Of Noble Birth (14 page)

Turning back, she allowed
herself a small sigh. What was she to do throughout the day? The
cabin was barely twelve feet wide and only slightly deeper, and
contained few items with which to amuse oneself.

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.”