Chapter Four
D escending the mast was much harder for Declan. Before, his attention had been on climbing, climbing, climbing...but now his thoughts were on her . They ought to be centred on not plummeting to his death, but his mind returned to thinking about how different she was from any other women in his life.
He slipped twice. His toes didn’t catch properly, his legs were wobbly from the unaccustomed work. Thankfully his arms held him upright and he was able to refocus his attention. But, damnation, it was impossible not to think about her.
She was a female sailor. That alone was startling. She had the physical strength for the work and the bravery, too, if her account was true. He shouldn’t be surprised that a bold woman could become a valuable member of a ship’s crew.
What shocked him was her sudden modesty. He hadn’t climbed up here to become intimate with her, but there was no denying that once they’d been in the crow’s nest her body had held a great deal of appeal. He loved the dark silk of her hair and the smooth sweetness of her face. She was exotic, and that had a special lure. She’d also looked him directly in the eyes when she’d spoken, she had listened to what he said, and when the tight quarters had pressed their bodies together he’d been shocked by the force of lust that gripped him.
But he was not a man to be ruled by his lust, so he’d kept his tone polite, he’d given her what little space had been available, and then he’d begun to see if she were amenable to his attention. A touch here, a whispered word there. All subtle, all respectful, and all received as she’d sunk back against him. He’d felt her heat, he’d felt her curves, and he’d started to think of ways to further their association.
Then it had all changed.
One moment he was leaning in for a kiss, and the very next moment she was jumping onto the ropes as if he were a rabid dog. So abrupt had been her movement that he’d looked for some sort of vermin at their feet. No rats except himself. And she’d looked pale enough that he’d feared she’d faint and fall to her death.
She had recovered, thank God, but she’d wasted no time escaping him. If they hadn’t been tied together, she’d probably have leaped to the deck minutes ago.
That was not the reaction of a seasoned courtesan or a rough sailor. What had happened there resembled the response of a frightened virgin, and he could not reconcile Grace’s appearance in coarse sailor’s clothing with her modest reaction.
The dichotomy had him replaying their entire acquaintance in his head to see if he’d missed clues. And the puzzle had him missing his footing.
‘Easy now, guv,’ said the captain from only a few feet below. ‘That’s a long, hard haul ye did there. I’m right impressed.’
Declan righted himself and dropped heavily to the deck. The shock of the impact reverberated through his heels up to his spine, and he was appalled by the weakness in his legs from the exertion. He was even more startled to discover that he couldn’t see Miss Richards anywhere. Nor did he see his cousin, though that was less surprising.
‘Lord Domac left about fifteen minutes ago,’ the captain said. ‘Said he wasn’t going to loiter here waiting.’
Of course not.
‘And Miss Richards?’
‘Gone below to change into her fancy dress. She can’t go back to her father’s house looking like a sailor, now, can she?’
Somehow she’d been fast enough to make it to the deck, untie herself from him, and then dash away—all before he’d made it fully down.
‘She’s a quick one, isn’t she?’ he asked.
‘Has to be as a woman on a ship. Quick with a knife, too, and a well-placed kick.’
‘Really?’ Declan leaned back against the mainmast as he pulled on his stockings and shoes. ‘What do you know about her? How long has she been sailing?’
‘I only know what her father told me. She’s his daughter from the first time he went to China as a young man. Didn’t know he’d fathered her until a year ago. Then he spent months finding her.’
‘And she was aboard a ship?’
The captain grunted. ‘That’s not where he found her. She’s a good navigator—best I’ve seen—but she got into some trouble. I don’t know exactly what. She told me the captain who’d protected her had died and... Well, sailors can be an unruly lot. I’ve got a good crew, but she still had to kick some sense into a few. My guess is, once her protector died she was hard pressed by the crew, and not in a good way. She ran back to the temple where she was raised. That’s where her father found her an’ talked her into coming here with him.’
That was an extraordinary tale. So extraordinary that Declan wasn’t sure he believed it. But then again, he didn’t know any women who could climb a mainmast either.
‘She can really navigate a ship?’
‘Reads a map like you an’ me sees colours. Just looks and knows. Sees the stars and does the mathematics in her head.’
‘Did you let her navigate for you?’
‘She’s a curious creature, always poking her head into everything, wanting to know what and why. She started playing a game with my man, seeing who could chart a course faster or better. It was her. Always her. When he got a fever she took over, easy as you please.’
Declan doubted anything for this woman had been easy, but he liked the notion of someone who constantly wanted to learn more about the world. He often suffered from an excess of curiosity, needing to explore beyond what his mother said a duke ought to know. Sometimes he defied her. Other times he gave in for the peace. And even though he knew his mother would damn him for his interest in Miss Grace Richards, he refused to be cowed.
He wanted to know everything about her. Most important, he wanted to know details that he could verify because she sounded more like someone in a tall tale of exaggeration than the flesh-and-blood girl who’d just run away from him in the crow’s nest.
He was interrupted by her reappearance.
He’d been watching for her to emerge from below deck and should not have been surprised by what he saw. She wore a modest gown, walking boots, and her hair was arranged in a short, but respectable style. All very proper.
But he hadn’t been thinking of her as a proper girl. She was the acrobatic sailor who had turned out to be female. Except now he was staring at a woman dressed as any lady of the ton. She walked in small, demure steps, her gaze was downcast, and her face appeared flushed with health. If it hadn’t been for the straight, dark hair and the exotic cast to her features, he would have thought her someone else entirely.
She said nothing as she approached, and he stood there staring, dumbstruck by the change in her appearance. She pressed her lips tightly together as she waited and waited...for something.
‘Miss Richards?’ he said, her name both a question and a statement.
‘Yes,’ she answered.
Then she glanced awkwardly to the side, where her maid stood in polite silence. He caught the woman’s encouraging nod before she spoke.
‘Lord Domac has left,’ she said bluntly. ‘I need a way back to my father’s house—’
‘But of course. I will escort you,’ he said, mentally kicking himself for being so stupid.
Hadn’t he already offered to do that before? But he couldn’t stop staring at her. Such a change from sailor to debutante, and yet she was beautiful in both outfits.
‘Um...are you ready, then?’
‘Do you have room for my sister as well? If not, we can take a hansom cab. I believe I have enough coins.’
‘No need. There is plenty of room in my carriage.’
‘Thank you, Your Grace.’
Then she turned to the hatch, where a young woman was slowly climbing up to the main deck. Her head was cast down, her hair was in an elaborate coif, and...
He blinked in surprise.
She was perhaps the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen.
‘May I introduce my sister, Lucy Richards? Lucy, this is Lord Domac’s cousin, His Grace the Duke of Byrning.’
‘An honour to meet you,’ the girl said as she dropped into a deep curtsey.
It was done beautifully, with fluidity and a coy glance upward in the way a courtesan might. She was undeniably lovely, and yet he found the mystery of her older sister much more intriguing.
‘A pleasure to meet you, Miss Richards,’ he said as he bowed over her hand. ‘Are you ready to go?’
‘Whatever you wish,’ she said, her voice husky.
He frowned at the seductive note to her words, but her expression was demure as she straightened. Had he imagined it? He looked to the much more intriguing sister and saw a frown marring her otherwise smooth face. She, too, was wondering what the younger girl was doing and looked disturbed by the thought.
Excellent. He hoped that there would be some good guidance from her in the future—assuming the younger girl would listen. Meanwhile, he offered his arms to both ladies to escort them off the gangplank.
The elder Miss Richards stayed long enough to give her thanks to the captain, who returned her smile in full measure, and then all three began the awkward process of returning to the docks and finding his carriage.
He watched the older sister closely during all this, trying to mentally connect the woman in the crow’s nest to this uncertain society woman. He caught flashes. Moments like when she forgot to keep her steps small and leaped over a mud puddle rather than sidestep it. Other times he saw the maid surreptitiously correcting her and watched as she obeyed with alacrity—though twice he caught sight of her pursed lips as she no doubt silently cursed the restriction.
And then—finally—they were in his carriage and headed towards her father’s home. Now he could ask some of the questions that had been burning on his tongue. While all three women sat with folded hands, and their gazes trained through the window to the London streets, he could begin to indulge his curiosity. He counted himself fortunate that the older sister sat across from him, so he could see the open play of emotions across her face. It was less fortunate that the younger sister sat beside him, pressed too close against him.
‘Is it common to educate women in China?’ he asked.
The elder Miss Richards shrugged. It was an indelicate movement, and it earned her a sharp look from her maid. She stilled as she answered.
‘I cannot answer that except to say I had tutors at the temple. The monks taught me very young to be respectful in my questions and to listen to the answers. That it was the only way to survive.’
He noted that she said ‘survive’ not learn , but he could not think of a polite way to press into that. Meanwhile, she turned the questions on him.
‘What did you learn as a boy? What can you do?’
How to answer that? It was akin to asking him how he breathed. ‘I attended boarding school, where I learned reading and writing. Mathematics, of course, and science.’
She waited for him to continue, her attention fixed upon him. When he spoke no more, she tilted her head. ‘Languages? Just English, or—?’
‘Latin, Greek, French... A smattering of others.’
Her eyes brightened. ‘Can you teach me?’
‘What?’
‘I have heard about those countries—Greece and France.’ She paused. ‘Who speaks Latin?’
‘No one,’ he said with a laugh.
He tried to explain about Rome and the history of that civilisation. It was a complicated thing to discuss, especially as he quickly found holes in her understanding of English. But she remained animated in her interest. She listened carefully and asked questions, and he found delight in explaining what he could.
‘There has been a great deal of conquering in this part of the world,’ she said. ‘Rome has come and gone while we have remained China. Always.’
That was an interesting idea, and he wanted to learn more, but there was no time. They had arrived at the small London home rented by her father.
Declan stepped out, reluctant to lose the intimacy of the carriage, but happy to extend his hand to her and her sister. The older woman grasped it with a strength that shouldn’t surprise him. He knew how physically capable she was. But her demure dress continued to confuse him. He kept expecting her to act as a normal society woman when he knew differently.
Being with her was like unwrapping surprise after surprise, and he was intrigued in a way that had not happened with a woman in such a long time.
He escorted them both up the steps, then enquired if Lord Wenshire were at home. Sadly, the man was out, so Declan had no excuse to further his investigation into the pair. Instead, he lingered on the front step while both sisters curtsied to him.
‘I should like to call on you again, if I may,’ he said.
The older sister wrinkled her nose as she glanced at the maid. ‘Is that allowed?’
He answered himself, rather than wait for the maid’s response. ‘It is,’ he said, ‘but I shall obtain permission from your father as well. Perhaps I will see you at tea?’
She nodded. ‘This afternoon? You’ll be there?’
‘Nothing could keep me away.’
But first he had to have a very serious discussion with his banker. He was not a man to give in to blackmail, but he was already determined to keep this woman out of his cousin’s clutches.
First of all, she didn’t deserve to be abused by his cousin in this way. She was far more intriguing a person than his mother had suggested. Capable, attractive, and so different from anyone he’d ever met. She definitely deserved a better match than Cedric.
Sadly, it was the second concern that tipped the scales. As intriguing as she was, she was not capable of handling the life of a countess. He cast no aspersions on her. It was the simple truth that Cedric’s wife would need to manage the haut ton . That required a knowledge of the English aristocracy which obviously she did not have.
Some things could be learned. But, as a foreigner, she would never be accepted and would constantly have to fight for the smallest amount of respect. It would be a terrible life, and Cedric was not one to retire quietly into the countryside, where his foreign wife might find some peace.
All in all, Miss Richards was exactly what his mother claimed: unacceptable.
The knowledge depressed him. He longed for a world where ‘different’ was celebrated. Everywhere he turned he heard the same ideas, the same sentiments repeated over and over again. Where were the fresh ideas? Where were the new perspectives?
Nowhere in his circle. People like his own mother made sure of that.
So that was the way of things and he would be a fool to disregard it. But the question of how to separate her from Cedric remained.
What exactly would Declan do to prevent the marriage? Would he pay the ransom? That would be extraordinarily distasteful. Would he court the lady herself? Perhaps string her along long enough for her to realise Cedric’s true nature? That, too, would be repugnant.
He would be no better than Cedric, pretending to court her without planning to wed her. Because he couldn’t marry her either. If it was terrible to imagine her as a countess, how much worse would her life become if she were his duchess? She would be harassed and disparaged at every turn and, like Cedric, he could not leave London. He had responsibilities and political ambitions here.
Damn Cedric’s irresponsible behaviour. And damn Declan’s mother for dropping this disaster into his lap. There had to be a solution other than giving in to blackmail, and until he found it he would explore every option—even the most distasteful ones.