Wilful Impropriety (24 page)

I realized by the faltering smiles of the ladies that I had let myself fall into too long of a silence. To Miss Fanning, I said, “My felicitations to you both. If Harry is half so attentive to his duties in marriage as he is in the Navy, you will be well situated indeed.”

Even as I said the words, I winced inwardly; that was not the most graceful compliment I had ever offered. It seemed I was doomed to spend my evening shifting from one awkwardness to another.

I should have trusted that thought. It would not have saved me, but it would at least have prevented me from feeling such misplaced relief when Granger drew me away. “There is someone you should meet,” the captain said, leading me across the room. His next words put a leaden weight in my stomach. “You and Byrom both.”

He collected the second lieutenant and guided us to another group of women, four in number. One older, and three younger; they looked familiar, though I had not met them before. As soon as Granger introduced them, I understood why. It took no dissembling at all to show the pain I felt as I said, “Ma’am, my sincere condolences on the loss of your son.”

Mrs. Warrington gave my hand the tiniest squeeze as I released hers. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance at last, Lieutenant Ravenswood. Percy wrote often of you in his letters. He considered you his greatest friend aboard the
Persephone
.”

He had his eyes from his mother, I saw, a warm and trusting brown. All his sisters shared them, too. To face his family en masse, with Byrom standing rigid at my side . . . I wondered what Percy Warrington had written of
him
.

Byrom was too canny to show that side of himself so publicly, though. With smooth courtesy, he said, “It was an honor to serve with your son, Mrs. Warrington. One of many fine men lost that day.”

His platitude made me grit my teeth. These ladies deserved better than such empty words. “I don’t know if you were aware, ma’am,” I said, “but Captain Monmouth intended that he should stand for lieutenant at the next opportunity. I have no doubt he would have passed.”

The possibility of tears glimmered at the corners of her eyes, but she held her sorrow in. “Thank you, Lieutenant Ravenswood; it is very kind of you to say so. We desired nothing more than that he should serve with valor.”

Nothing more than that he should serve, and return home safely. I tried to block out the memory of his face, and failed.

The eldest Miss Warrington twisted her fan in her fingers and said hesitantly, “If—if I may—”

You may not
, I wanted to say, for I could read in her expression the words that were coming. And would have rather faced a French broadside, armed with nothing but a knife.

“Could we beg you to tell us what happened? To the
Persephone
, I mean.”

My gut clenched. “The account of it was published in the
Gazette
.”

An account I knew by heart, for it was a digest of my own words to the Admiralty. I kept a copy next to my heart, the paper much battered with folding, and even now it seemed to burn a hole through my ribs. The mother laid one hand on her daughter’s arm—not to quell her, but to take up her cause. “The
Gazette
says so little, though, only the barest outline—”

“That is a kindness to the families,” I said, my fingers curling tight. “The details are not something ladies should hear.”

“Please, Lieutenant,” she said with quiet dignity. “He was my only son. No insult intended to Lieutenant Byrom, whose conduct was so gallant—but you were such a friend to Percy; I had rather hear it from you.”

I had no need of suicide to place me in hell. I was there already. But worse than this would be to allow the unsuspecting Mrs. Warrington to hear the tale from
him
.

Byrom stood at my side, a grenade ready to go off if I made the slightest error.

Fixing my gaze in the distance, and hoping they would credit the tension in my voice to the unpleasantness of the memory, I opened my mouth and lied.

•   •   •

I fled as soon as I could afterward, out of that elegant hall where I did not belong in the slightest. How I found my way to the gardens, I could not say, for no one had shown me the path, but the next thing I was aware of was the fresh evening air. It cleared my head, though my stomach still roiled with sick shame and fury.

Oh God, the lies stuck in my throat, clawing it bloody. I had thought myself at my deepest nadir when I stood before an Admiralty board and gave my word of honor that the demise of the
Persephone
had gone as I said, leaving myself and the heroic Lieutenant Byrom as its only survivors. But that was nothing,
nothing
compared to this: lying to the face of a grieving mother.

Cold comfort that Percy had behaved with every bit of valor and honor I imputed. Far more than
I
showed now. And yet, what other choice did I have?

None. Byrom had me trapped, as effectively as if he held a pistol to my head. He could make me crawl, make me relinquish the name of gentleman—everything I had built up for myself, he could and did strip away from me, leaving me a despicable, dishonorable
thing
.

“Victoria!”

The name, hissed just over the rush of the breeze, snapped me back to alertness like a gunshot. Someone else had come into the gardens.

I had not survived so long in the Navy, however, without developing strong nerves. I startled, but no more than anyone might upon being surprised, and turned where I stood on the path, boots crunching in the gravel. As if I did not know who I would see.

Kate hurried to join me, tugging her pelisse up to cover her bare arms. “Don’t worry,” she said as she drew near. “No one else is out here. I am not such a fool as to say anything where another might hear. Oh, Victoria, it
is
you!”

My heart skipped a beat every time she said the name—a name I had scarcely heard in ages, scarcely even dared
think
, lest thought lead to action, and action betray. If Byrom’s gaze threatened my carefully constructed facade, Kate’s voice stripped it away, revealing the truth that lay behind: not Simon Ravenswood, but Victoria.

Kate’s eyes danced in merriment as she halted before me. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you, that you would have the cheek to show up in such a fashion—oh, you must tell me what is going on! Where is Simon?”

There was no possibility of lying. Kate would never believe me if I pretended she was mistaken, and would be insulted if I tried. My mouth was as dry as bone. I heard my own voice as if it were a stranger’s: habitually at the lower edge of my range, low enough to pass for a man’s light tenor. “Dead.”

The merriment in her eyes staggered, faded, died. “What? But why haven’t you—” Understanding dawned, as she remembered why my twin had entered the Navy to begin with. “The inheritance.”

I nodded.

“But Victoria, to pretend to be Simon—I know we played at it when we were young, masquerading as boys, but he’s a lieutenant; they will catch you out—” Again the flow of words stuttered to a halt. Her lips parted in amazement, or perhaps horror, as she realized her own error. “How—how long have you been doing this?”

The number startled even me, when I spoke it. “Six years. He died during his first leave.”

I saw her look at me again, this time seeing not Victoria, but Lieutenant Ravenswood. My weathered skin, my sinewy hands, my hair in its rough tail, the dark strands glinting reddish-brown where the sun and wind had bleached them. The heavy wool of the coat hid the rest: the scars of battle, the whipcord strength where feminine softness should have been. I made a spare man, but so would my twin have done. Taking after our father as we did, I had little that needed concealing.

“Heavens, Victoria,” Kate whispered, staring frankly. “How have you
done
it?”

Wryness twisted my mouth into an unfamiliar smile. “With difficulty.”

She covered a giggle with her hand, and waved for me to go on.

The wind tugged strands of hair into my face. “It’s possible to get privacy on board a ship, though far from easy. And you can even piss standing up, if you know the trick—” I broke off, wincing. “I’m sorry.”

“Not at all,” Kate managed, despite her ladylike blanch. “Though now I
do
believe you’ve been six years in the Navy.”

I looked away in embarrassment. No need to tell her the other graphic details. I was fortunate that my nature, or perhaps the physical strain of my life, made my blood come rarely. “Officers rarely strip down, not like the men. And I have done my d—my best to avoid any error that might lead to corporal punishment. They would know me quickly enough, if I removed my shirt.”

“But to attempt such a masquerade in the first place . . .” She wrapped her pelisse more tightly.

“I panicked,” I admitted, barely loud enough to hear. “Without Simon, I had nothing. No future, nor any hope of one. Our uncle’s terms were quite clear: we received our stipends only so long as Simon was in the Navy, and the rest of the money would come only when he made post. Absurd, to think I could take his place—and yet it was the only thing I could think of.”

Kate sank down onto a bench, still dazed. “Hannah Snell did it; why not you? Though she was a Marine, which I suppose is different. And a woman grown, not a twelve-year-old child.” She shuddered, likely at the thought of my youth. “However did you manage?”

“What choice did I have? When I came back I told them I had fallen from my horse and struck my head; it can damage the memory. I had bought those books before Simon went away, to learn what he would be doing—”

“Sailing manuals,” Kate said, nodding. “I remember.”

Manuals I had studied obsessively—far more obsessively than my twin did. “I knew names from his letters, and put them to faces when I reported back; it was enough—though hard going at first.”

“And so you’ve been trapped all this time,” she murmured, touching my wrist in sympathy.

“Trapped?” The word felt odd on my tongue. “I suppose that, in the early days, I saw it that way. I made a rash decision, and had no way out of it; I could not desert, they would not release me from the service, and to admit the truth would be worse than continuing to lie. Had it not been for Harry—Lieutenant Wycliffe—I don’t know if I could have endured it.”

Her gaze sharpened at the name. “Does he know?” I shook my head, perhaps a touch too vehemently. “He is my dearest friend, but no. I could never tell him.”

Kate raised one eyebrow, as if she heard something in my tone. I was not about to admit, even to her, the incident that occurred—or rather,
nearly
occurred—the night I was made lieutenant. Harry and I had both been drunk, which was both cause and cover; I did not think he remembered how close we came to kissing.

She allowed the issue to rest, but her next question was nearly as awkward. “What will you do when you are made post? Will you stay? I imagine it would be easier for a captain to keep secrets.”

It would. But I could not tell Kate the true answer: that I had no hope of success. Even if I escaped disgrace, there were hordes of lieutenants in the Navy, all competing for a far smaller number of commands. I lacked the political connections that could aid me, and without them, I might never get my step.

Movement caught my attention. We were no longer alone in the gardens; several figures had come out onto the terrace. What excuses Kate had made to follow me I did not know, but we could not go on like this, talking so privately. Her husband would begin to wonder, if he did not already. Feeling both relieved and reluctant, I said, “We should go.”

Kate caught my sleeve as I stepped away. “Victoria—”

My face hardened. “You must not call me that.”

“Simon, then—Lieutenant Ravenswood.” Her lips quirked on the name, but only in passing. “Quickly—does
anyone
here know?”

I offered my arm again, and she took it smoothly, as if I were any gentleman. How much should I admit to? “Granger,” I said under my breath.

“Your
captain
?”

“I was wounded—a shot to the thigh.” All of this sotto voce, as we crossed toward the house. “I didn’t witness the scene myself, being unconscious, but at that range the ship’s surgeon could hardly miss the truth. He told Granger.”

Kate pinked again. She didn’t used to be this easily embarrassed; all that schooling in Italy had wrought changes. “What did he do?”

“Told the surgeon to dig the bloody thing out before I took an infection, and he would address the matter when I woke. By the time I did, Granger had decided to let me stay.”

An oversimplification, but we were too close to the other guests for me to relate the rest of it. In actuality, Granger had listened to my story, while I quaked in my skin. Then he told me, in deceptively level tones, that I would be testing for lieutenant at the next opportunity. After I failed, he would have me out of the service on terms that would save him the awkwardness of explaining how a young woman had got past him all that time.

But I had not failed. And I wondered sometimes whether Granger had ever expected me to.

•   •   •

“You tell the tale so prettily,” Byrom murmured in my ear a little later, knowing it would stick under my skin like a barb. I turned my back on him and walked away, but it did no good; I could feel the pressure of his satisfaction on me like a weight. With the Warringtons giving me tearful smiles whenever I passed, by the time Harry drew me aside, I was more than ready to play the bear.