Chapter Thirty-Three
Thirty-Three
You’re certain you want to go through with this, Your Highness?” Thomas asks me some hours later as I stare at the newest addition to my ears in the mirror. The physician tried to refuse; in the end I had to sweeten the pot with a small pile of coin.
I’ve also attempted to use my mother’s eye charcoal, or whatever it is.
I haven’t figured out how to use it properly, so it’s a bit of a mess…
but I’m enjoying the striking, defiant quality it adds to my features.
It makes me look more Turkish than English, and I am proud to display this side of myself.
I like seeing my mother in my own reflection.
I like feeling like me.
“It’s a little too late to turn back now, don’t you think?” I ask, touching one earring with a wince.
“That’s not what I mean,” Thomas snaps at me.
I turn to him with my most charming smile, knowing very well that it won’t work. “What do you think?”
He sighs and tilts his head to admire the pearls as they hang from my ears. “Do they hurt?”
“Very much,” I say cheerfully.
“Good.”
I snort and stand back to let him help me into my jacket.
I’ve dressed in dark colors to make it easier to sneak around unseen: black breeches and jacket, with an emerald-green waistcoat.
My hair is freshly cut, courtesy of Thomas, to better show off my mother’s earrings—and to prevent them from getting caught in my curls as I sleep.
He left it a little longer on the top than I used to keep it, and it makes me look very dashing and very disreputable. He knows me so well already.
“All right… Go on to your room for the night. They’ll think you’ve left me to sleep, and you can come back in the morning as usual to wake me.”
I turn to the trunk in front of my bed and move to lift one side of it, grunting softly. Is it me, or is it heavier than it was a few hours ago? I frown and reach for the handle, but Thomas approaches and touches my shoulder.
“Allow me to help you.”
“No, you have to be seen leaving my rooms.”
“Let me worry about that later. The two of us can carry it.”
I want to say no; I’d rather he was not involved in what I am about to do. But I can’t carry this thing on my own—and really, I don’t want to be alone in this moment. I press my lips together and nod. “Thank you, Thomas.”
I nod to the trunk and we step to either side of it, lifting it easily with our combined strength. Nine-months-ago Christopher-Henry could never.
“What are you smiling about?” Thomas asks me.
I look up at him and my grin widens a little. “Just thinking about someone I used to know.”
“This is madness, Your Highness,” Thomas whispers to me frantically in the moonless dark of the London docks.
“Stop calling me that,” I hiss back at him. “You didn’t have to come with me.”
“I couldn’t let you do this alone! And besides, you are a paragon of poor decision-making, and it’s my responsibility to keep you in check.”
I give a breathy laugh and look at him. I appreciate his coming this far with me, but I would hate for him to take the blame for what I am about to do.
When we left Kensington Palace, it was nearly one in the morning.
I have no idea what time it is now, but the blue hour has yet to come upon us, so I think it is still before three o’clock.
The stars, and the occasional gas lamp, were our only light as we made our way into the streets of lower London, booked a buggy to the docks, and finally walked down, lugging the trunk between us, to the slumbering ships as they rocked in the quiet predawn waves.
“Are you sure this man is going to show up, Your Hi—Christopher-Henry?”
“For Christ’s sake, Thomas. Call me Kit.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You’re going to get us caught.”
He sets his mouth into a line and stops short, causing me to nearly drop the trunk. I grunt and glare at him. “What are you doing?”
He isn’t looking at me, though. Instead he’s staring at something just over my shoulder.
“You lot don’t belong down here,” a gruff voice says from behind me.
I do drop the trunk then, spinning towards the shadowy form that caught Thomas’s attention. My eyes widen, and I give a laugh as I step forward and grab Mr. Tydes by the shoulders.
“Tydes, you old bastard,” I blurt.
“From one bastard to another,” Mr. Tydes says, swatting my hands away from him.
“How I missed you, Mr. Tydes,” I muse.
He gives a whistle, and two more figures come running down the dock towards us. I gasp when I see them, my heart swelling as I open my arms, and Tristan launches himself into me, knocking me back until I fall onto the trunk with a grunt.
He buries his face in my neck and squeezes me so hard, I’m sure a rib cracks. Before I can beg him to let go, Trevor has him by the collar. He yanks Tristan off me, then pulls me up and into a less violent embrace, slapping his hands on my back.
“Tristan said ye wouldn’t abandon us,” he says into my ear, then steps back to look at me. “I told him he was placin’ a losin’ bet on ye.”
I grin at Trevor and pat his cheek affectionately. “You always hold me in such high regard,” I say.
“I’m just being pragmatic,” he says, mocking my posh accent. I snort and shove him back a step, but he holds me firm. “What have ye gone ’n’ done to yer head?” he asks.
Tristan taps one of the earrings, and I swat his hand away. “They’re tender,” I whine.
“They’re ridiculous,” Trevor says.
“I like them,” Tristan chimes in. “They’re just ridiculous enough for our Kit. Like the black stuff on his eyes!”
“I’m touched, Tris. Help me with this trunk,” I say as I search for the one face I hoped to see.
“He’s not here,” Mr. Tydes says.
I turn to face him. “Where is he?”
Mr. Tydes grimaces and shrugs, as if that answers anything. My stomach drops. Is he not coming? I think back to the argument we had, the way I told him to get out or I’d call the guard on him. I threatened his life because his honesty hurt my feelings.
Oh, I’m such a coward.
I swallow hard and turn to Thomas, who is trying his best not to look out of place. I step up to him and reach into my jacket pocket to pull out three envelopes. “Take these back to the palace with you,” I say, pushing them into his hand.
Each of them is sealed with the royal seal, which I still wear.
One for Katherine Stuart, one for Viscount Falmouth, and the last for my father: Henry IX, King of England.
I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye to any of them in person, even after everything.
Not even Kitty—that’s how much of a coward I am.
“I’ve recommended you to Francis’s service,” I explain as Thomas stares down at the envelopes. “He’ll take good care of you. Francis is almost as boring as my father when he dresses… but I’m sure you and Kitty can bully him into a nice shade of chartreuse.”
Thomas gives a quiet laugh. “Chartreuse?” he asks, incredulous.
“Mm-hmm,” I say with a nod. “With seafoam trimmings.”
He laughs again and shakes his head. “The man you asked me to find… he isn’t here?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. I… I betrayed his trust. He tried to make me see reason, and I cast him off.”
“This man… the one who owns the blue silk ribbon I left at the inn,” Thomas whispers. “He’s the one who broke your curse?”
My eyes widen. I hadn’t realized he had been listening when I told Kitty and Francis about the curse the viscount had burdened me with.
But of course he was listening. He has ears, and he was in the room.
I’m just as foolish as every other member of the gentry, who treat their servants like furniture when they aren’t interacting with them.
I still have a lot to learn.
I swallow hard and lower my eyes. “I thought so.”
“He’ll be here,” Thomas insists.
I force a brief smile, but I’m not sure I agree. I look back at the dock, where Tristan and Trevor are carrying my trunk up the gangplank of our new ship. “I’ll be all right with them. They’re my brothers. They always have my back.”
“You could still come home.”
I draw in a slow breath as I watch the silhouette of Trevor, Tristan, and the trunk disappear onto the deck of the ship.
“This is my home,” I whisper. “I belong to the sea.” It feels like the most honest thing I’ve ever said, and though my heart aches at Sharpe’s absence, I know without a single doubt that I’ve made the right choice.
“You, lad,” Thomas says, and I turn to see whom he’s talking to.
A passing dockhand stops with a blink. “Aye, sir?”
Thomas approaches the boy and hands him my letters. “Take these letters to Kensington Palace.” He pulls out the purse I gave him earlier and drop a few coins into the boy’s hand. “Tell no one how you came to have them.”
The boy squints down at the coins in the dark, then gasps and looks up at Thomas with a grin. “Yes, sir,” he says.
He hurries off before I can stop him. “Thomas,” I say. “What are you—”
“I’m your valet, Your Highness,” he says stubbornly, straightening his back. “I can’t have you growing a beard and forgoing your jackets like some commoner.”
I laugh breathlessly and shake my head. “Thomas, you don’t want to come with me. It’s not exactly going to be a leisure trip. This… this is life at sea.”
“If you can handle it, Your Highness, I’m quite sure I can. Besides, I did decide which vessel to invest in.”
The dig at my survival skills does not go unnoticed, but I am too charmed by his devotion to say anything. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“It’s too late to back out now. My things are already on the ship.”
My brows shoot up and I gasp. “Your…?” I look up at the rail of the ship, and then back at Thomas. “That’s why the bloody trunk was so bloody heavy!”
He smiles and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll prepare your stateroom, Your Highness,” he says as he starts up the gangplank.
I watch him board the ship in silent awe. How did someone like me inspire such loyalty from someone as pure and good as Thomas Lancaster? Either he’s mad, or I am even more charming than I realize. I follow him onto the ship.
It’s a fine ship. I sent Thomas with enough money to buy a man-of-war if I had wanted, but my instructions to Thomas requested a luxury merchant vessel. Something fine but still useful. My gaze falls to the open door leading into the captain’s cabin, and my chest tightens.
I thought to share this cabin with Captain Sharpe, as we had on the Deliverance. But I suppose I’ll have to learn to captain on my own. I wonder if I can inspire even half the devotion from the crew that Captain Sharpe did. Somehow I doubt it.
I step into the cabin, which is lit with sconces on the walls and a few candles.
It’s similar to the cabin on the Deliverance, but with newer fixtures, and it lacks the abundance of weaponry and the filth of longtime use on the walls.
I wonder who owned this ship just yesterday?
I wonder if he had to be bullied into selling it, or if he’s happy now to retire to a life of leisure with his profits.
Thomas has already started sifting through the trunk to unpack my things. He’s taken my mother’s memory box out and set it on the sofa, and I can see the trunk I brought from Falmouth sitting at the foot of the bed. They must have brought it for me from the Deliverance. I smile and step towards it.
“This is a mighty fine ship,” murmurs a familiar, melodious voice from behind me.
I freeze and my eyes widen. My heart does a giddy little leap, even as my eyes prick from the sting of tears. I have to remind myself to inhale as I turn to face him.