Addicted to the Duke (Imperfect Lords #1)(21)
Since leaving London he’d been distant. She’d put his silence down to worry over setting sail so quickly and perhaps her safety. Yet his mood had not altered even when she’d tried to engage his attention. She did not want him to think she was the same silly young girl who had followed him around like a shadow.
Now they were to leave at daybreak, on the early morning tide, and still she had no idea of what he was feeling. Resentment at being put in this position? Genuine worry for her father? For her? Or was he excited to be facing his demons?
He was an enigma. However, all she cared about tonight was rest. And soon the world dimmed as sleep took her.
—
Hestia had no idea how long she slept, but the sun was shining through the porthole window above her bunk. The ship was also pitching more and she suspected they were on the open seas. Her stomach let out a loud grumble. Time to get up.
She spotted her trunks in the far corner of the cabin and a jug and water bowl filled with fresh water. She stopped in front of the trunks and counted them. The two trunks Alex had sent to Great Yarmouth the night she’d told him about Fredrick’s plans were here, but a third one had joined them.
She dropped to her knees in front of the well-worn trunk and reached to open the lid. She lifted it slowly, and when she spied its contents, her heart bloomed and danced like a leaf blowing in the wind. Here were all the men’s clothes she’d made for herself when she’d sailed home with Alex over four years ago.
He’d kept them.
They were all clean and pressed and in immaculate condition. Her eyes welled with tears as she spotted the scarlet sash she’d worn around her waist to help hold the pants up. It was lying on top of the clothes and folded carefully in two. Alex had made the sash from the lining of one of his waistcoats. He’d said the bright color should be worn to signify how brave she was and that she had faced down her attacker.
She ran her hand over the worn silk and remembered how the sash made the revolting memories of the sultan’s treatment of her slide away. She’d worn it every day on the trip home. She’d been sad to leave it behind when she reached England.
After a quick wash in the basin she braided her hair and decided to try on her old clothes.
The pants were the right length, it would seem she had not grown taller since the age of sixteen; however her waist had filled out slightly and she would no longer need the scarlet sash to hold the breeches up. She slipped a shortened shift over her head, tucking it into the already tight waistband of her trousers. She lifted a shirt and struggled to get it on. The garment was a tad too tight across her breasts. She pulled it back over her head and decided there was enough seam to let it out. She’d have to wear one of the shirts she brought with her.
Completing her dress was the old jacket Jacob had made for her out of one of his army jackets. It came almost to her knees and hid much of the exposure her new garments displayed. With her long jacket to hide her feminine shape within, she felt more confident about venturing up on deck. It would be impossible to tell she was a woman through a spyglass if a passing ship were interested.
Once out of her cabin, Hestia decided to make her way to the stateroom. The Angelica was a different ship from the one she’d sailed on before. After feeding her hunger she would go exploring.
Upon opening the door she simply followed her nose until she found the stateroom. The smell of coffee filled the passageway. Fresh scones and jam were on the table, and if someone could bring her a cup of tea she’d be in heaven. She hesitated at the door until a male voice welcomed her.
“Good afternoon, Lady Hestia. Let me introduce myself, I’m Mr. Foxhall, the ship’s surgeon.” He bade her take a seat. “His Grace is up on deck with Jacob, and I’ve been tasked with ensuring your comfort.”
Words deserted her as she looked at the handsome man beaming a smile at her.
His smile faltered as he misinterpreted her stare. “Forgive my informality, it’s just we very rarely have a lady on board.” He turned toward the table. “His Grace suggested you might like to eat and then I should escort you up on deck.”
“No need to apologize. I’m sorry for missing breakfast. I slept through.” Her breathless voice almost echoed in the large cabin.
His smile was back as if she was an indulgent child but she didn’t care. “You’ve slept through two breakfasts.” At her obvious embarrassment he added, “Perfectly acceptable for a young lady after such a heroic four-day ride. Shall I call for some tea, or are you feeling a tad delicate? It often takes a while for one to find one’s sea legs.”
Two days? That must mean they were well under way. She hoped no one was following them. “Thank you, Mr. Foxhall, tea would be lovely. I’ve sailed with my father on occasion and luckily I never get sick on ships. I have sturdy sea legs, I’ve been told. I must take after my father in that way. My mother was always as sick as a dog whenever on board a ship, even when it was at dock.”
Mr. Foxhall looked greatly relieved.
She’d known Alex always sailed with a surgeon on board. His previous trips had taught him the value of having someone with such skills among his crew, but she never imagined a surgeon who rivaled Alex in looks.
“Do you know if the Angelica is being followed? Did we slip away without arousing suspicion?”
“I’m sure His Grace will answer all your questions once you have eaten. Please make yourself at home and I’ll be right back,” he said, and left her to her refreshments.