She went to the washstand where she spied a hairbrush. Next to it lay tooth powder and a new toothbrush. Evidently Nathaniel had anticipated her needs.
Using the small, diamond-shaped mirror hanging above, Alexandra tarried over her hair, brushing the long tresses until they shone. After she washed her face and hands and cleaned her teeth, she felt enormously better, except that the rest of the afternoon yawned before her with absolutely nothing in store. And she was hungry.
She moved restlessly about, examining the maps and papers on Nathaniel’s desk, straightening the covers on the bed. It was her first day at sea, and she was already bored. She wished she could go topside and see, firsthand, a sailor’s world. But the thought of the unsavory men who worked for Nathaniel made her reject that possibility, just as it made her reluctant to search out the galley, as Nathaniel had suggested earlier.
Alexandra’s eyes lighted on Nathaniel’s trunk. What would a man such as he treasure? Gold or silver? Objects stolen from the duke? She crossed the room and knelt down next to his chest.
Surprised to find it unlocked, Alexandra sent a glance toward the door. There was no lock to bar Nathaniel’s entry. She would have little warning if he returned. Still, the pirate captain was so different from other men that she wondered what drove him—beyond an unhealthy hatred for his father.
Despite a prick of conscience, she lifted the lid. It was Nathaniel, after all, who had brought her here, he who was to blame for her boredom. The least he could do was to share what little entertainment the cabin afforded.
A beautiful sword, possibly an antique, rested atop a suit of clothes any man could wear to court and not be found wanting. Alexandra fingered the rich fabric, noting the precise stitches. Whoever had constructed the expensive clothing was a talented seamstress. But then, Nathaniel would look good in anything. He was a tailor’s dream, with a physique that easily lent itself to rich garb.
If only his character were as flawless.
Below the formal clothing, Alexandra was delighted to find several books ranging in subject matter from the philosophy of Marcus Aurelius to herbal medicine. She scanned the titles, hoping for something to interest her, and was pleased to discover a compilation of Lord Byron’s poems. She thumbed through the well-worn pages, then set the volume on the bed.
Digging deeper, Alexandra pulled out other articles of men’s clothing similar to those she had seen Nathaniel wear, along with a length of white cotton fabric. Her fingers itched to sew, something she never dreamed they’d do after the long hours she’d put in since her mother’s death. Still, there had been a time when she had loved her needle.
She pulled the fabric out to ascertain its size, and as she did so, a small miniature of a woman fell to the floor.
Who is this?
Alexandra wondered as she retrieved the picture.
Nathaniel’s sweetheart?
The woman’s thick, long hair began at a widow’s peak and was pulled back and piled on top of her head. Her wide eyes gazed unblinkingly back at Alexandra, holding a touch of… what? Sorrow? Tenderness? Alexandra couldn’t say. But she had to admit that the woman was exceptionally beautiful.
A knock at the door startled Alexandra. Dropping the miniature back into the chest, she quickly folded the fabric on top of it and replaced the other articles, including the poetry.
“Who is it?” she called when all appeared as it should.
“M’lady? Don’t be frightened. ‘Tis only me, Tiny.”
Alexandra breathed a sigh of relief. Of all the pirates, Tiny seemed the most kind.
“I brought ye somethin’ to eat,” he said.
Alexandra opened the door. “I’m starving. Thank you.”
He ducked into the room. The low ceiling made it impossible for him, like Nathaniel, to stand at his full height. “The cap’n sent me.”
“I see. I thank you anyway.” Alexandra took the tray from Tiny’s huge hands.
“Is there anythin’ else ye be needin’?”
She shook her head, eager to start on the meal, then called the big man back when he turned to go. “Tiny, do you think it’s safe for me to go topside?”
He appeared surprised. “‘Course it is, m’lady. Ain’t a man ‘ere that wouldn’t rather die than find ‘imself on the cap’n’s bad side. No one will ‘arm ye. If they even look like they might, I’ll give ‘em a good thump myself.”
Alexandra couldn’t resist a smile. “Thank you, Tiny. You’re very kind.”
“‘Tis the least I can do.” He looked uncomfortable as he added, “Under the circumstances.”
After Tiny left, Alexandra ate with relish, surprised that the meal, which consisted of boiled mutton, suet pudding, and steamed rice and vegetables, was as tasty as it was. Evidently Nathaniel didn’t lack for much now, she thought bitterly, remembering the expensive clothes and the sword in his trunk—not to mention the cost of his books.
Setting her dishes aside, Alexandra retrieved the volume of poetry and settled herself to read. But it wasn’t long before she was bored again, and the lure of the upper deck finally overcame any hesitancy she felt about going there. She had never been on a ship, though she had heard much about sailing from some of the old tars with whom Willy drank. Even they waxed eloquent when speaking of the beauty of the open sea, and she longed to view it for herself.
Banking on Tiny’s words and the loyalty of Nathaniel’s crew to their captain, Alexandra left the cabin and made her way forward until she stood beneath the open hatch. A patch of clear blue sky could be seen beyond, nothing more, though Alexandra could hear the movement of men above her, their voices rising and falling with the wind.
She gathered her nerve and climbed the ladder, unprepared for the boisterous gale that hit her full in the face as she emerged. It snatched her breath away and nearly blew her back down the hatch.
Alexandra gasped and steadied herself with one of the cables that moored the main mast to the deck. The ship was a world of rope and canvas and wood. Rope raised and lowered the sails, created ladders and footholds for the men, even caulked between the planks to keep the ship watertight. The white of the sails was the only relief from the brown of everything else, except for the small spot of color at the stern where the British flag waved.
The air was colder than Alexandra had expected, but her heart thrilled to the feel of the ship heaving beneath her feet. Saltwater sprayed her face as they plowed through the waves, the sails above cracking as loudly as guns.
“M’lady, ye should ‘ave a cloak or somethin’.” Tiny had spotted her and lumbered toward her as he spoke. “‘Ere, take my coat.”
Shrugging out of his massive, well-worn coat, Tiny generously offered it, and Alexandra gratefully accepted. She wanted to spend more time above decks and knew she’d be chilled through within minutes if she didn’t put something on.
“Thank you,” she called above the wind, smiling. “What a spectacular view.”
Tiny grunted, glancing around him. Then something, or someone, caught his eye, and he turned to go, mumbling, “Best get back to work—”
Alexandra stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Your tailor isn’t quite as gifted as your fierce captain’s, I’m afraid.” She indicated a tear in his sleeve that had been hastily mended, most likely by Tiny himself. “Why don’t you bring your shirt to me tonight and let me do that justice? I’m rather handy with a needle.”
Tiny flushed, looking as embarrassed as he was surprised. “I wouldn’t want to trouble ye none.”
“It will only take a moment. Surely your captain wouldn’t mind if I put myself to some good task.”
Alexandra turned to look behind her, searching for Nathaniel. He wasn’t hard to find. He stood at the wheel, the wind flowing through his hair, his legs planted firmly apart on the rolling deck. He watched the two of them with a speculative eye, and Alexandra guessed it was he who caused Tiny’s discomfiture.
“I’d better get back,” the big man said, and hurried away.
Alexandra smiled as she watched him go. She’d told Nathaniel that she was a seamstress by trade, but there was hardly a lady in England who couldn’t sew. Mending Tiny’s shirt certainly wouldn’t give her away. And she could use a few friends in her strange new world.
She turned to make her way over to the side, but Rat intercepted her before she reached it.
“Ye look fresh an’ lovely, m’lady. Even a bit flushed.” His foul breath washed over Alexandra, making her take a step back. “Seems last night agreed with ye.”
“I slept well,” Alexandra replied, unable to miss his more subtle meaning. “Too bad your daring captain didn’t rest as easily. The floor of his cabin makes a rather unsatisfactory bed, I’m afraid.”
Rat snickered. “If ‘e spent the night on the floor, than ‘e’s a bigger fool than most men.”
“Or you are.” Alexandra stood ramrod straight. “Regardless of where Mr. Kent and I stand in each other’s esteem, we are related. If I remember the sharpness of your captain’s sword with any degree of accuracy, you’d be wise to remember that.”
“What? Ye think ‘e’d test the point of ‘is sword for ye?” Rat scoffed. “‘E ‘as no love nor loyalty in ‘im. An’ you can remember this: when ‘e’s done with ye, I’ll be waitin’—”
Unwilling to hear more, Alexandra whirled and stalked over to the railing. Below, the waves fanned out in neat furrows, but she barely noticed. Her hands were shaking, her knees weak. How could she protect herself from Rat? If—
when
, Alexandra corrected herself—the pirates found out she wasn’t Lady Anne, Nathaniel might no longer provide the buffer between herself and his men that he did now.
Nathaniel’s voice at her elbow made her turn. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “The smell of a servant too repulsive for your refined senses?”
Alexandra gave him as scornful a look as she could muster under the circumstances. “Indeed. And it seems the air is not about to clear. I think I shall go below.” With that, she stumbled back to the hatch, feeling more than ever that she must find some way to escape.
* * *
Nathaniel watched Anne go, wondering what Rat said to upset her. She’d looked happy, almost exuberant one minute, and the next, her entire countenance had changed. But he was in no mood to coax anything out of a spoiled young woman. She had provided them little protection from the duke thus far, and he feared for Richard. Was Anne enough to keep his friend safe? How could he swing the odds back into his favor?
His half sister had finally quit denying her identity, but Nathaniel could only wonder at her story. The calluses on her hands were a mystery. Though Trenton adamantly denied the possibility, if Anne was indeed Alexandra, a seamstress, then Richard was as good as dead. The duke was the kind of man to mete out his own justice, quickly and efficiently. Nathaniel doubted Greystone would bother to give him a fair trial first.
“Captain?”
Nathaniel glanced up to see Trenton standing beside him.
“How’s our little charge?”
“She’s not the docile lady I expected her to be.”
Trenton chuckled. “No. The duke is probably grateful we’ve taken her off his hands.”
Nathaniel scowled, succumbing to the foulness of his mood. “I don’t know what he’s up to.”
“You want to tell me why we’re going to the Crimea?”
“Rat says that three ships will be leaving Bristol on Wednesday. Two are headed for China, no doubt opium runs, but the
Eastern Horizon
will be sailing for Russia.”
Trenton rubbed his chin. “Haven’t we intercepted the
Eastern Horizon
once already?”
“She was the second ship we took.”
“Why Russia?”
“That’s what I want to know. Maybe it’s a decoy, the message a plant, and my father’s trying to protect the other two. Or he’s hoping we’ll get ourselves killed over there.” Nathaniel chuckled without mirth. “It could even be something else.”
Trenton’s eyebrows shot up. “Such as?”
Nathaniel shook his head. “I don’t know. But it can’t bode well that a ship of my father’s would be sailing to a port he’s never sailed to before—”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Trenton interrupted.
“Well, he hasn’t sailed there in recent years, anyway. So why now? I’m sure you’ve heard about the Ultimatissimum. England has officially given Russia until April thirtieth to vacate the Baltic states, or we go to war. You don’t really expect the czar to lose face with his own people by complying with our demands, do you? War is inevitable.”
“But the Crown is giving great latitude to merchants. The Queen is intent upon keeping the effects of the coming war at a minimum. Maybe your father has decided to trade in timber or hemp.”
“I can’t imagine that. My father has specialized in opium, textiles, sugar, and tobacco for so long, trading with either the United States or China, that it seems out of character.”
“So we’re going to intercept the
Eastern Horizon
and find out what’s going on?”
“Exactly.”
Trenton spat over the railing. “The
Horizon’s
captain’s not going to like a second go-round. He was furious the last time.”
“Frenchmen are always passionate about something.”
“What about the ships destined for China?”
“They won’t be carrying much until they stop at Calcutta. Which reminds me, what about the opium from last week’s take? Did you make sure that every last crate was dumped into the sea?”
Trenton nodded. “Aye, but I hated to do it. Opium is worth quadruple the value of any other cargo we’ve taken.”
“Just remember the war, my friend. You agreed with me then.”
“I still do. The opium habit is a cursed thing. I’m just getting greedy in my old age.” He waved a hand. “It all seems so futile. Even if we dump it, there’s tons more reaching the shores of China every day.”
“I don’t want any part of it, regardless,” Nathaniel insisted. “England may have won the right through brute strength to import opium into China, and I may have helped her do it. But I’m out of service now, and I refuse to make money from the trade.” He grinned. “Raiding my father’s ships is definitely more to my liking. That way, only he gets hurt, not thousands who live each day for another pipe.”