Amanda Scott (9 page)

“You there!” she shrieked. “Stop that at once.” She could not see clearly enough to make out the man’s features or even his shape, but she could see that he had bent over Sir Antony and had turned him onto his back. Sir Antony, unconscious or—God forbid—dead, lay like a stone. She had no weapon at all, and although the attacker had glanced up when she shrieked at him, he appeared to believe that she represented no danger for him, for he continued with what he was doing.

His seeming lack of concern infuriated her more. “Help!” she shouted again, hoping some crew member might hear her. But she was near enough now to see that the man was searching Sir Antony’s pockets. “Robber!” she cried. “Thief! Oh, help me!” She was nearly upon him now, and could see that the man was masked. He raised his hand then, and she saw that he meant to hit Sir Antony again. “No, you shan’t!” she screamed, launching herself at him without a second thought and feeling his taut body move back just as she hit him and fell to the deck. She grabbed for his feet, hoping somehow to keep him from getting away, but he eluded her, and the ship’s movement pitched her toward the railing instead. Terrified lest she be flung overboard, she began scrabbling for a handhold, any handhold, when a foot crunched bruisingly into her side, and she realized the robber had not fled after all. He was trying to push her into the sea.

Sir Antony groaned, and hard upon that welcome sound came the piercing note of a boatswain’s whistle. She could hear men shouting now, behind her, and the pressure of the foot against her side eased at once. Meriel could hear the attacker’s running footsteps fading toward the bow as several men came toward her from the afterdeck. Breathless now, she tried to shout a warning that he was getting away, but she could not make the words come. A moment later, a rough hand gripped her upper arm and pulled her to a sitting position. Feeling dizzy and holding her free hand to her aching side, she looked up into an anxious young seaman’s grizzled face.

“W
HAT’S THIS, THEN?” THE
sailor demanded.

“Never mind me,” Meriel said, looking toward the shadows of the bulwark, where Sir Antony was groaning more audibly now and beginning to move. “See to Sir Antony. I fear he has been grievously injured.”

“Injured, is he?” The sailor helped her to her feet as he spoke over his shoulder to one of his mates. “See to ’im, lad. These landlubbers. Tripped over ’is own shiny boots, no doubt.”

“He did nothing of the kind,” Meriel snapped indignantly. “He was assaulted. Someone was waiting for him in the shadows there and hit him over the head as he emerged from the great cabin. I should think you would have a better care for your passengers.”

The sailor looked perplexed. “Hit? Now, who would do a thing like that?”

“What’s going on here?” A stout man wearing a jacket with a gold braid at the shoulders appeared out of the shadows. “What the devil’s the meaning of this, Brand?”

The sailor straightened abruptly, saluting. “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but the gennelmun done tripped ’n’ ’it ’is ’ead, I’m thinkin’.”

“You haven’t thought at all,” declared Meriel, standing easily now, her indignation making her forget her bruises. “That is Sir Antony Davies, Captain, if you are indeed the captain of this vessel. He was attacked by someone who hit him over the head and attempted to steal his purse. Indeed, he may well have stolen it, for he was certainly searching his pockets when I stopped him.”

“When
you
stopped him?” The captain stared at her, but even in the dim light cast by the moon and stars, her authoritative demeanor caused him to change his tone to a more respectful one as he continued, “Begging your pardon, ma’am. Jeremiah Baggett at your command. I am certainly the captain of this vessel and must apologize for any inconvenience you have suffered. As you see, my men are this minute attending to Sir Antony, and I will see if there be a doctor aboard, thought I daresay there ain’t. In my experience there never is when one is needed. I’ve told m’ superiors time and again that we ought to provide a sawbones for every sailing, but they turn a deaf ear. Howsomever, did you indeed say that you stopped the assailant?”

“Of course I did,” Meriel said, watching with a disapproving eye as two sailors attempted to lift Sir Antony and carry him into the great cabin. “’Twould be better to take him into the ladies’ saloon, would it not? I daresay there are fewer if any persons in there, and he may be made more comfortable.”

The captain didn’t argue but rapped out the necessary orders to his men. The saloon, when they reached it, was dark and quite empty, and Sir Antony was laid gently upon a banquette. “Fetch a blanket,” ordered the captain, moving to examine the victim as several lanterns were lit. Meriel moved quickly to his side, drawing off her cloak.

“Here, sir, cover him with this until they bring blankets. He must not take a chill.” As the light brightened above Sir Antony, she discovered a disconcerting fact. “Gracious me, his head is bleeding.”

“Aye, so it is,” agreed the captain, peering with matter-of-fact interest at the sluggish flow of blood from the side of Sir Antony’s skull. He felt the area surrounding the wound and gave it as his opinion that Sir Antony’s head weren’t broke, merely dented. “He’ll do, ma’am. See, he be coming round right enough.”

Sir Antony did indeed choose that moment to open his eyes. For a moment it seemed that he had difficulty making them focus properly, for he peered at Meriel as though he were certain his senses must be deceiving him. Then his gaze shifted to the captain and beyond to the sailor, Brand, who had remained behind when the others departed.

“What’s toward?” he inquired.

“You are supposed to say, ‘Where am I?’” Meriel told him with a teasing smile. “That is what persons hit upon the head are said always to say when they come to their senses.”

“Have I been hit on the head?” He reached up curiously, and winced when his fingers made contact with the wound. Looking at those fingers a moment later, he said in an offended tone, “Dear me, Captain, will you oblige me with a handkerchief before I get this stuff all over my coat.” The captain, with a wry grimace, obliged him, and sir Antony’s gaze shifted once again to Meriel. “My lady, what brings you here? I am persuaded you ought to be tucked up in your own cabin by now.”

“Don’t scold her, sir,” the captain said, chuckling. “Like as not, she saved your hide, and at considerable risk to her own, I might add.”

“Did she?” He glanced enigmatically at Meriel. “Might one inquire as to what transpired? I fear I have no memory of the incident.”

“Not likely you would,” the captain told him, “since your attacker came from behind. M’lady here saw the fella try to bash your brains out, and by what I can make of what she and my men have told me, she flung herself straight at him without a thought for the consequences. No doubt her methods were a bit rough and ready, but they answered well enough till ’e tried sendin’ ’er t’ Davy Jones’s locker. Fortunately, my men arrived on the scene, having heard her cry out for help. She’s afeard the feller took your purse, howsomever.”

Returning the captain’s handkerchief, Sir Antony reached awkwardly into his coat pocket and extracted his purse. “Doesn’t seem to have taken a thing,” he said, frowning. “Not a very efficient thief.”

Captain Baggett shook his head, perplexed. “Can’t think who it was attacked you, sir. Wouldn’t have thought we had any ruffians aboard, this trip.”

Sir Antony’s eyes, once again fixed upon Meriel, narrowed ominously, and she felt a surge of apprehension before she saw that he had relaxed again, and was able to tell herself that he had merely felt a quite reasonable annoyance with his assailant. There was no cause to think he was angry with her.

“His head must be bandaged at once, Captain,” she said quietly when Sir Antony made no further comment.

“My men will be along shortly, ma’am, with the wherewithal. If I might make so bold, I’d suggest you go below before they return. Brand will accompany you to be certain you arrive safely. But before you go, perhaps you might tell me if you can identify Sir Antony’s attacker.”

“No,” she said. “I cannot. He was larger than I am and I believe some few inches shorter than Sir Antony, but even that may have been a trick of posture or poor lighting. His face was masked.” Brand stirred behind her, and she glanced at him, then turned firmly back to the captain. “I appreciate your concern for me, sir, but I prefer to see Sir Antony settled before I go.”

“You’d be wise to go below at once, however,” Sir Antony said gently.

Encountering an implacable glint in his eyes that she had never seen there before, she forbore to argue, telling herself it would do him no good to exert himself in unnecessary conversation. With a reluctant smile she said to the captain, “You will see that he has every care, sir?”

“We will, m’lady. We’ll have him tucked up and in the care of his own man in the twinkling of a bedpost.” He helped her don her cloak. “You go along with Brand there, and don’t concern yourself further with this nasty business. I’ll post a guard to be sure Sir Antony reaches the French coast safe and sound.”

She thanked him and allowed young Brand to escort her below, where she discovered that Gladys Peat had awakened and was determined to read her a sound scold for her foolishness in leaving the cabin. Meriel listened only until her patience wore thin. Then, coolly reminding her protectress that she was well enough able to look after herself, she said good night and prepared for bed.

The following morning she learned that Sir Antony had passed a comfortable night and was much recovered, and by late afternoon when he finally emerged from his cabin, she was able to see for herself that he was quite restored to his customary good health. The wind was still high, so the crossing was taking less time than usual, but it was tedious because the high winds made for rough passage, and once again Meriel found herself with little companionship. Thus it was with unmixed delight that she greeted Sir Antony’s invitation to take supper with him in the dining cabin that evening.

His invitation included Gladys Peat, and that lady would no doubt have accompanied them even had it meant her death to do so, but Meriel would not allow it. The unremittent heaving of the vessel had kept Mrs. Peat tied to her bunk, and her mistress could not believe that rising from it for no other purpose than to look after herself would do Gladys any good.

“There is no need,” she repeated firmly when her abigail protested. “I am persuaded that I shall be as safe in Sir Antony’s charge as in your own.”

“But it will look so particular, m’lady—you dining privately with a gentleman. None of ’em—not even that Sir Antony—may be trusted to keep the line. You mark my words.”

“No doubt, but I am no green girl, you know, and while I should not dream of dining privately with him in London or even Barmouth, there can be no good reason to refuse his invitation here. No one knows me, for one thing, and the dining cabin is quite a public place, for another. ’Tis not as though I will be dining
tête-à-tête
with him in his stateroom, after all.”

Gladys clutched at her ample breast with a gasp. “I should hope not, indeed, Miss Meriel. The very idea!”

Meriel grinned at her. “There now, you see, things might be worse. Rest well, Gladys.”

“I’ll not rest till you return, Miss Meri, as you ought to know, and I’ll thank you not to go jauntering about on deck tonight, either, miss.”

“Oh, no,” Meriel replied with a laugh. “I daresay Sir Antony will be as opposed to such a course as you are and will see me safely restored to you directly we have finished our repast.”

A few moments later she found herself greeting the gentleman much as she would have greeted an old friend. During the course of the past days she had discovered him to be a man of great personal warmth despite that occasional languidness of manner that made her wish to stir him up, and she enjoyed talking with him, for he made no secret of the fact that he liked her. Indeed, she did not think she would be enlarging upon the truth to believe his feelings toward her were deepening rather quickly. Being a gentleman, of course, he kept his emotions under firm control, never allowing himself more than a warm look or a teasing smile by way of flirtation. And she enjoyed flirting with him, though she hoped her feelings went no further than that. More than once she had reminded herself that she was a good deal too old for romance and too busy in the general way of things for more than a mild dalliance. It was pleasant, nonetheless, to have someone to chat with during the tedious voyage.

That evening, when Sir Antony guided her to a private table with room for just the two of them against the dining-cabin bulkhead, she said nothing, merely casting a glance at the long table in the center of the room, where three women with their husbands and three other, unattached gentlemen were seated. No doubt, she decided, the rest of the passengers were laid up like Gladys Peat with the dreadful seasickness.

She took her seat, smoothing the slim skirt of her gray silk low-cut evening dress and handing him her lavender wool shawl.

“This room is warmer than I had anticipated,” she said, smiling up at him.

“Whenever one has several bodies in a small space, the temperature rises, I believe,” he replied, draping the shawl carefully across the back of her chair and taking his seat opposite her. “One must hope, however, that the heat will not wilt this shirt of mine.”

He wore a coat of dark green superfine, a scarlet brocade waistcoat, and cream-colored pantaloons, and looked much cooler, she thought, than she felt. “Your man must have starched your shirt very well, sir, for you look as crisp as a lettuce leaf.”

“But not as damp, surely?”

She chuckled at his plaintive tone. “I must tell you, Sir Antony, that Gladys disapproves strongly of my coming here alone, but I see by your seating arrangement that you did not expect her to accompany me.”

He grinned. “I heard that she was still indisposed and was convinced that you would not allow her to overexert herself on your behalf.”

“I took a chance, however, for you must know she rang a rare peal over me for leaving our cabin last night, and I had no wish for another scold.”