A Scandal to Remember (19 page)

But of any other preference for his company, she gave no sign—she was as buttoned up and battened down as a hatch cover, with her dress up to her neck, and her sleeves all the way down past her elbows. Although she was wearing a charming straw bonnet in place of her usual stout, wide-brimmed felt hat, everything about her was plainly wrought, without subterfuge or affectation. Unadorned.

The light in her clear blue eyes was adornment enough. And there she was, in his boat.

Or so he thought, until Mr. Denman reappeared at his shoulder. “Ready to embark?”

God’s balls. Dance cursed himself for an ass. Of course she could have been waiting for Denman. Of course. Dance jammed his hat down upon his head, and hoped he’d jammed some sense back into it as well. “After you.”

Dance saved the rest of his breath to cool his porridge, and said nothing more than was necessary for the length of time it took to row across to the central quay.

Once upon shore the parties separated to their allotted missions. But Miss Burke moved slowly, letting the groups disperse to their different designations around her.

“Miss Burke,” Sir Richard called. “Are you not accompanying us to Mr. Mawe’s garden? I’ve been given to understand that there is a magnificent collection of botanicals that can be grown in this mild climate.”

“Oh. Well, I hadn’t thought…” Miss Burke’s answer was uncharacteristically vague.

Sir Richard played his trump card. “Mr. Denman will be joining us. The garden contains an impressive collection of medicinal plants and herbs as well.”

“How very interesting.” She moved closer to Sir Richard, and laid a hand along his arm. “I hope you will forgive me, sir, but I have some shopping of a … personal nature to undertake. I hope you will not mind my absence.”

Sir Richard was so alarmed by the very idea of what
personal
might include that he drew away. “Oh, certainly.” Though he hesitated—clearly he did not like to have Miss Burke out of his oversight. “But will you not be alone in this strange place?”

Miss Burke was not so easily thwarted. “It is Recife, sir, and not a hostile South Pacific island. The steward, Punch, who has been here before, will accompany me. I feel quite safe.”

“A one-legged man is little protection, Miss Burke,” Sir Richard cautioned. “I would prefer—”

Before his mouth could consult his brain, Dance spoke. “I’ll spare another man, Sir Richard.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Miss Burke answered. “So there you have it, Sir Richard. I am well looked after.” It was only after the other naturalists had turned to walk off across the plaza that she turned and looked Dance in the eye. “And dare I hope that you will be that man, Lieutenant?”

The pleasure that shot through him was like a bolt to the back of the head, rendering him too stupid to think better of it. He felt a smile widen his mouth as he said, “If you like.”

The very beginnings of an answering smile brewed along her lips, though she tried very hard to subdue her enthusiasm by chewing on her bottom lip. But he had seen it. And the sight did marvelous things for his equanimity. “I believe I would like.”

“Yes.” Her unqualified enthusiasm brewed up a heady sensation deep in his gut just at the prospect of walking next to her much less taking her arm. He could not let himself do that. He held out his hand for her to proceed.

She turned toward the market square and began to walk slowly toward the stalls. “Well, that was easy enough. I had feared that you would offer a great deal more resistance.”

“Perhaps you have spent too much time with your stubborn barnacles, and think every creature will act in the same way.”

She laughed just as he hoped she would. “Goodness, you must have forgiven me, if you are willing to speak of barnacles.”

“Forgive you?”

“Yes. I know you were not happy with me for distracting you from your duty before the mast broke—but I have been assured by Mr. Denman that the injured man Flanaghan is going on better and better. And I had thought to try and make up for my mistake by assisting Mr. Denman in his surgery. I have some small skill with still-room work.”

He did not want to think about her helping Denman. “Miss Burke, I was not, and am not, angry with you.”

“Lieutenant, we have already established that neither of us are very good liars. I may not know much of the world, but I do know when a person is angry. Despite your rather heroic calm in directing the man’s rescue, your face was a rather livid shade of crimson, indicative of fury, and your mouth was screwed down into what could only be called a grim line. If I were to teach foreigners the English word for anger, I should show them a drawing of your face, and they would comprehend it instantly.”

“If I was angry, it was at myself, and not you. It is my job—my duty—to see to the ship and all the men in her. It is your job to be a conchologist, which you were endeavoring to do when we spoke. The error was mine and not yours.”

Miss Burke’s milky cheeks pinked in the warm sunlight. “It is very kind of you to say so, Lieutenant. If you are not careful I might discover that there is an actual charming gentleman hiding beneath your impressive naval scowl.”

Dance was too happy to think about the reasons for his impressive naval scowl. “Don’t tell anyone.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Just as I trust that you will not tell anyone that there is a frivolous woman hiding beneath my rather practical scientific exterior.”

“Frivolous?” There was nothing wrong with her exterior—it was as gracefully unadorned as its wearer. But he didn’t want to share any part of her—frivolous or not—with anyone.

And speaking of Denman— Dance cast a look over his shoulder. Behind him, a trail of men who had been directed to accompany him to the shipyard kept a respectful distance—so respectful, he wondered if Miss Burke was aware of their presence. But of Denman, there was no sign.

“How so frivolous?”

“I am sure everyone else in the world—including you occasionally—must think it entirely frivolous, and mad even, to want to be left alone on a South Seas island so I may draw pictures of shells, if only for the pleasure it will bring me.”

Dance nearly stopped walking. He had not thought of leaving her alone on a South Seas island, only of getting her there in one piece. And he didn’t like the feeling of powerlessness that came with the thought. If she were alone on an island, she would have nothing and no one to protect her. He didn’t like it at all.

And all this talk of pleasure was dangerous. It made him think of other things besides his job. It made him think of the warm blushing softness of her cheek, and the plush invitation of her lips.

Miss Burke continued her amble, oblivious to his less than gentlemanly thoughts. “You are very nice to be around when you are not swearing at me on the deck of your ship.”

There was nothing he could say or do, but apologize. “I am occasionally an ass, Miss Burke. For which I hope you will forgive me.”

“You were. And still occasionally are. But I do forgive you, for you appear to be doing a very fine job of making up for it.”

“Thank you. You are very generous with me.”

“You are the one who has been more than generous with us all.” She exhaled another long sigh. “And I am six and twenty, Lieutenant. I am too old, and we live in too close confines, to hold grudges for a few sharp words.”

Did her voice sound a little wistful? Surely not about him? “Come now. You are not too old. I am eight and twenty. We are of an age, you and I—both in the prime of our lives.”

“You may be in the prime of your life, Lieutenant, because you are a man. A woman’s age passes more quickly before she is put upon the shelf.”

“Nonsense. You are walking in the sunshine in Recife, Brazil, Miss Burke. You are not upon any shelf.”

“So I am.” Her smile became as broad and sunny as the market plaza, though she shook her head a little ruefully. “And I assure you, I am thanking my lucky stars that I am fortunate enough to be here. But it is not nonsense. It is conventional wisdom.”

The reluctant acceptance in her voice told him she was not merely fishing for compliments—she truly believed what she was saying. “Conventional wisdom is an ass. On this I will not be gainsaid.”

“And there is that fierce naval scowl.”

She was laughing at him, in the kindest way possible, and Dance could feel a smile edging the scowl out of the way. “My apologies.”

“Oh, don’t apologize. I see now that your scowl is part of who you are—a man with all the responsibility and none of the authority. A man who worries about every sail and spar, every line left in a tangled mess about the deck. Everything that no one else will take the time or energy to be worried about. They say rank has its privileges, but clearly it also has its cost.”

Again, she seemed to understand things no one else did. And it was more than a pleasure to feel so … understood. But the feeling was also too close to gratitude to be comfortable. “And speaking of cost, I must make for the shipyards. Now, where might I take you for your shopping?”

“Oh, I have no shopping to speak of, other than getting in some victuals to help the wardroom table. But I have given Punch my money, and put him to getting what is needed, as I thought it best to let him combine our funds to best effect.”

Arranging everything just so for others’ benefit, just as she had rearranged the sleeping quarters to his benefit. But he could not resist the opportunity to tease her. “So you lied to Sir Richard? Miss Burke, I am shocked.”

“No you are not.” She laughed. “I should think you are rather vindicated by this obvious show of perfidy in my character. But I have resolved to become a better liar, if only for your amusement.”

Oh, he liked her. Damn his eyes, but he did. “You must not reform yourself on my account, Miss Burke.”

“Why not? I cannot do so for my own.” She smiled as she said it, meaning for the words to be light and joking, but there was something else, an air of melancholy in her tone, that led him to think that she might not be joking.

He repeated her own question. “Why not?”

“Because,” she said as they walked along the market stalls in Punch’s wake. “I don’t know. I suppose I cannot decide if I like the truth.”

Here at last was
real
honesty. Dance all but held his breath. “Why not?”

“The truth will set you free, the Bible says. But I have found rather the opposite. Some truths are a cage that keep you in.”

“And what is the truth that would cage you?”

She stopped and turned toward him, her eyes sharp and searching as she looked at his face, trying to decide what she would tell him. And then she let it all out in a rush. “I am not really J. E. Burke, the conchologist. I mean, I
am
Jane Eliza Burke, and that makes me J. E. Burke. And I
am
a conchologist. I have studied shells for years and years. But I am not
the
J. E. Burke and
the
conchologist originally sought out by the Royal Philosophical Society.”

“I know.”

“What do you mean, you know?” After such a heartfelt confession, she was baffled and put out at his nonreaction. “How could you know?”

“Let me rephrase. I suspected.”

“Why?”

He gave her the simplest answer. “Because you are a woman.”

“You sound exactly like Sir Richard. Why is it so impossible for you to believe that I might actually be as accomplished a conchologist as I claim? That is the truth! I have done all of J. E. Burke’s work. I have made all of his drawings and I have arranged—”

“Pax, Miss Burke. Perhaps you will recall that I did not
act
like Sir Richard.”

That cooled her pique somewhat. “But if you suspected, why did you not say anything?”

“As I told Sir Richard, it was not my place to say. And as you said you
are
J. E. Burke, and you
are
a conchologist. And I liked you better than the other naturalists. None of them looked forward to being sorted out.”

The tease had his desired effect—she blushed a perfect apricot color, like jam smeared across her cheeks. Delicious. “It is ungentlemanly of you to remember that.”

“It is not. It is charming. Which is what I was attempting to be before you started in with all your insistence upon the truth.”

She looked up at him from the corner of those blue eyes. “Then you don’t care about the truth?”

Not today. Not with her. “The truth is a bore, Miss Burke. The truth is bad grub and no money to pay for dinners and a constantly leaking ship badly in need of repair. Let us spend at least this one afternoon as free as possible from the cage of the truth.”

“Agreed.”

She offered her hand to shake, and he took it, though he knew he was unprepared for the wash of sensation that engulfed him at the feel of her soft, slender fingers in his palm. Before he knew what he was doing, he bent his head and put his lips to the delicate skin on the back of her hand. Tasting her. Feeling the fragile beat of her pulse under his lips. And knowing then that it was a mistake.

That this one taste of her could never be enough.

But Miss Burke was an innocent. And he could not be kissing her in the public streets of Recife, no matter how prettily she blushed or how hopefully she looked up at him through those shining eyes.

“Forgive me,” he said. But he did not let go of her hand.

“Oh, you are forgiven.” She was still all honesty now—blushing and pleased and truthful. “If only for your charming conversation.”

He was making charming conversation, wasn’t he? Devil take him—this had to be a first.

A dangerous, pleasurable first.

Chapter Twelve

Who knew that the stony, sober lieutenant could be so lighthearted? That there was something of the charming scamp behind the worry in his beautiful green eyes?

But the worry was there for a reason—to keep them all safe.

Jane began to feel almost guilty at her own lightness of heart after having unburdened herself of the weight of her secret. The lieutenant was still carrying his. “But as charming as this conversation is and as much as I should like to eschew the truth, I fear I am keeping you from your appointed tasks in the shipyard.”