Anabelle Bryant - Return to the House of Sin

‘Lady Beasley.’ Her voice was barely a whisper. ‘You may call me Amanda, if you’d like.’

It was more information than he’d expected and he would have preferred she hadn’t offered her Christian name. Their alliance would be brief and inconsequential. At the most three weeks in length, though he doubted even that time span would pass before discovery and subsequent consequence took Amanda down a different path.

‘Well then, Amanda. I’m Crispin Daventry, Lord Hastings. Crispin, if you prefer.’ Her expression eased and he eyed the door, wondering if he should fasten the latch. If Ferris interrupted, all hell would break loose. Hadn’t his friend protested of no winsome companionship only an hour earlier? This young woman would catch a blind man’s eye.

‘Thank you.’ A cheerful note filled her words.

He waited, his mind still mulling the matter of her urgent return to England. ‘What will you do?’

‘I’ll find a way to stay out of sight. I’ll be fine, Crispin.’ She sounded much more like a mouse now, her voice high and thready, most likely due to the impossibility of her suggestion.

And was that a glimmer of tears?

His eyes rose to hers at the sound of his name in her voice. Peculiar that, for some reason, he wished to hear her say it again.

Discarding the inanity, he pushed on to more important matters. ‘You won’t be fine. A woman alone on a ship full of randy sailors and lonely crew is far from safe. Until you determine otherwise, you may stay here.’ The suggestion, outrageous in its nature, surprised him as it tumbled from his mouth. What was he doing? How would he endure three hours, never mind three weeks, at sea with a young woman in his quarters?

He couldn’t. And the surreptitious show of chivalry left him baffled, though the next conclusion was a punch in the face. Bloody hell, he would have to bunk with Ferris. The man’s snoring rivalled a roomful of tormented animals, the heavy breathing, droning snorts and unexpected gasps identical to the sounds he remembered from his childhood visit to the National Zoology Museum during mating season.

‘I’ll find other accommodations.’ Resigned to his magnanimous gesture, he sunk into the only chair in the room, refusing to surrender his seat despite she remained standing. Let her sit on his bed. He’d already sacrificed enough. ‘You can’t leave these quarters. Not only are you aboard without a purchased fare, but I didn’t exaggerate the concern for your safety.’

‘I understand.’ She nodded, a question already tumbling from her lips. ‘How will I eat?’

He threw his head back and laughed, the situation ripe with irony. Perhaps this was his punishment for shirking due responsibility overlong. Again, images of Sophie’s harebrained plots and escapades rose to mind. ‘I’ll bring you food.’

‘And a bath occasionally?’

‘Amanda.’ Her eyes shot to his in much the same way he’d received her bid for attention, but now a flicker of annoyance challenged his patience. ‘Why should I be inconvenienced, whether by sleeping on the floor or finding somewhere else to lay my head? Keep in mind that I’ll become an accomplice to your deceit and the captain could very well malign my name and report my actions if I’m discovered, having us both hauled to a magistrate as soon as we’re docked. Why would anyone take that risk for a stranger?’

‘Because you’re a good man,’ she replied with sincere importance.

‘Incredible notion, capital mistake. You’ve wandered into the wrong quarters if you’re expecting goodness. I’m the worst rogue: selfish, arrogant and obscenely indulgent.’ He stood, straightened his shoulders and approached her with what he hoped was a menacing expression.

‘No. You’re a good man. You may wish for the world to see otherwise, but beneath that portrayal lies a soul composed of kindness.’

He was unnerved by her description. ‘For all your flummery, I can only consent to this foolhardy plan because I easily envision my sister in a likewise situation.’

‘Thank you.’ She rushed forward, hands extended, and he wasn’t quite sure what she meant to do.

‘You’re welcome.’ He caught her wrists, circling each one with his finger and thumb as if to touch her skin would be the death of him, and, by stalling her pursuit, released her just as quickly. ‘You have Sophie’s buffoonery to credit for this acquiesce.’ Then, fearing he might do something that proved the trait ran in the family, he turned and left the quarters in search of a clarifying jaunt on deck.

Amanda stared at the closed door in awe of her good fortune. She’d managed to skirt below deck undetected, and gain safety in an open room, as well as find a responsible gentleman aboard who would vacate his quarters in a generous act of chivalry. Thank heavens for Lord Hastings and his automatic assumption she was a stowaway. She had boarded the wrong ship despite her purchased passage on the other galleon. Truly, she saw no reason to correct him. It would be downright rude, wouldn’t it? He was a lord. Pity she hadn’t thought to ask more about his family. Father and Raelyn would indeed approve of her association and wish to thank him properly when they were all reunited in London.

Enid, her maid since the nursery, would assuredly recommend him for his fair hair, as rich and golden as a chest full of treasure despite the unconventional length. His lovely blue eyes glittered like sunlight on the water. Crispin was strikingly handsome, if one preferred the sort, all uncompromised masculinity and strong stature. Although there was a moment when she glimpsed a different man beneath the exterior, almost in kind to vulnerability. She shook her head with the wayward thought. None of that mattered, really. She would bide her time, keep to the room, and return to England.

England. She had anticipated her return through a different lens, but she’d be forced to make the best of circumstances now. If only she could somehow contact her father and sister. She worried over their wellbeing. Would they continue to France without her? Search for her in Italy? The predicament was wretched and all due to her befuddled mistake. Perhaps confessing this to the captain proved the wisest choice. Still, there was no way to remedy the problem or forward word to her father. Her one small decision had immense consequences.

She sat down at the table to contemplate how she would spend her time and her stomach growled. She placed a hand against her abdomen. Hopefully Crispin would return soon. She needed to think of some way to repay his generosity. A plentitude of unanswered questions bothered her brain. She stalled, restlessness causing ill ease.

How nice it would be to have a book or deck of cards to pass the time. She wondered if Crispin packed any such distractions in his trunks? She could never go through them. But when he returned with food, she must remember to ask. Stopping in front of the mirror, she pulled the pins from her hair and dropped them into the bowl on the desk. As she threaded her fingers through the lengths she fanned out the tangles before setting to work on weaving a large braid as tightly put together as her plans for the future.

Unexpectedly, the ship pitched to the left and she swayed with the motion. During her trip to Italy, the ocean allowed smooth travel and the ship made excellent time into port. She hoped this voyage proved as peaceful. Taking a turn around the interior to occupy her time, she counted how many footsteps composed the circumference of the room. Then she counted each pace across the diagonal until, with a huff of boredom, she plopped down on the bed to try the mattress. It was thin and somewhat lumpy, though she had no right to complain.

Rising from the bed, she walked to the tiny window above the table. If the table weren’t nailed to the floorboards, she would have had a clearer view of the outside world, but as it was, she couldn’t stretch nearly as far as necessary to see anything worthwhile, her line of sight composed of the wooden wall adjacent to the door.