The Other Miss Bridgerton (Rokesbys #3)(16)

“Thank you,” she said, perhaps a little too loudly.

Billy flushed and gave a jerky nod.

“This is Miss Poppy,” the captain said, laying a hand on Billy’s shoulder before he could flee. “Aside from me, you will be the only person allowed in this cabin to tend to her. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Billy said, still not looking at her. He looked downright miserable. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No, that will be all. You may return in three quarters of an hour to clear the tray.”

Billy nodded and practically sprinted from the room.

“He’s at that age,” the captain said with a wry lift of his brows, “when there is nothing so scary as an attractive female.”

“It’s nice to know I scare someone,” Poppy half muttered.

The captain let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, you need not worry on that score. Brown and Green are thoroughly terrified.”

“And you?” Poppy asked as she took her seat. “Do I scare you?”

She held her breath as she waited for his answer. She wasn’t sure what foolish devil had compelled her to ask such a question, but now that she had, her skin prickled with anticipation.

He took his time in answering, but Poppy didn’t think it was with the intent to draw out her unease. His expression grew thoughtful as he lifted the lid on the main dish. “Rabbit in wine,” he murmured, “and no, you don’t scare me.” He looked up, his eyes meeting hers in a startling blaze of azure.

She waited for him to elaborate, but he did not, instead ladling the fragrant stew into their bowls.

“What does scare you?” she finally asked.

He chewed. Swallowed. “Well, I don’t much like spiders.”

His answer was so unexpected she gave a little snort. “Does anyone?”

“Must be someone, I imagine,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug. “Don’t people study such things at university? Naturalists and the like?”

“But if you were a naturalist, wouldn’t you rather study something sweet and fluffy?”

He glanced down at his bowl. “Like a rabbit?”

She tried not to smile. “Point taken.”

“I’ll be honest,” he said, uncovering a small serving dish filled with parsleyed potatoes. “I don’t think either of us had a point.”

This time, she couldn’t help it. She did smile. But she also rolled her eyes.

“See,” he said, “I’m not so dreadful.”

“Neither am I,” she shot back.

He sighed.

“What does that mean?” she asked, instantly suspicious.

“What?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You sighed.”

“Am I not allowed to?”

“Captain James .”

“Very well,” he said, sighing again, and for the first time his face looked almost weary. “I was not dissembling. You don’t scare me. But I’ll tell you what does.”

He paused, and she wondered if it was for dramatic effect or simply so he might consider his words.

“I am petrified,” he said with slow deliberation, “by everything you represent.”

For a moment, Poppy could do nothing but stare. “What does that mean?” she asked, and she didn’t think she sounded defensive. She didn’t think she was defensive. But she was curious. After a statement like that, how could she be otherwise?

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as his hands formed a steeple. “You, Miss Bridgerton, are a lady of gentle birth. I suspect you’re already aware that I have some experience with this particular species.”

She nodded. It was clear that Captain James had been born a gentleman. It was right there in everything he did, everything he said. She saw it in the way he moved and spoke, and she wondered if a person could ever truly throw off the customs with which he was raised.

She wondered if the captain had wanted to.

“Simply put, Miss Bridgerton,” he continued, “creatures such as yourself have no place on a ship.”

Poppy gave him an arch look. “I believe I have already concurred on this point.”

“So you did. But much to our joint dismay, there are forces at work which precluded my being able to redeposit you ashore.”

“Forces such as what?”

He gave her a practiced smile. “Nothing you need worry your pretty head about.”

This time she was quite sure he was trying to rankle her. But his condescending statement didn’t bother her nearly so much as the fact that he’d known it would.

She did not like being so easily read.

She especially did not like that he was the one to do so.

So she smiled prettily and thanked him when he spooned potatoes onto her plate. And when she caught him regarding her with a curious expression, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her nonreaction, she allowed herself some small satisfaction. But just a tiny bit, because frankly, she didn’t think she would be able to keep it off her face if she allowed herself to truly savor her triumph.

She did not want to think about what it meant that this was what now passed for a triumph.

“Wine?” The captain inquired.

“Please.”