The Other Miss Bridgerton (Rokesbys #3)(27)

He looked mildly disappointed that she did not ask him to elaborate, but knowing him, he probably assumed she’d beg for that story later too. “I’ll be on my way, then,” he said. “The ship won’t steer itself.”

“But surely Mr. Jenkins or Mr. Carroway can do so.”

“Indeed they can,” he allowed. “But I do like to keep an eye on things. I rarely spend much time in my cabin during the day.”

“Why did you come down?”

He looked at her blankly for a moment, then said, “Oh yes, the book.” He picked it up, made a little emphasizing motion with it in the air, and said, “Must give this to Mr. Carroway.”

“I would tell you to give him my regards, but of course I do not know him.”

He gave her a wry half smile. “Your greatest pleasure.”

“For now, at least.”

He acknowledged her quip with an approving nod. “Well done, Miss Bridgerton.”

Out the door he went, leaving her alone with her breakfast and her thoughts, which unfortunately consisted of one part pleasure at his compliment and twelve parts annoyance with herself for feeling that way.

She supposed she’d better get used to such inner conflict. She had a hunch it would be with her the rest of the voyage.





Chapter 8




The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Poppy found a novel she hadn’t noticed on the shelf the night before and gave it a try, moving—as boredom dictated—from the bed to a chair, to a different chair, and then back to the bed. When the sky began to dim, she went to the window, but they must have been facing east, because the sky went from blue to dark blue to black without even a speck of orange or pink.

There might have been a moment of indigo in there somewhere, but that was probably just wishful thinking.

It stood to reason, though, that if she was facing east on the way to Portugal, she’d be facing west on the way back. She consoled herself with the knowledge that there would be sunsets galore as she voyaged home. She supposed she could rouse herself early to watch the sun rise, but she knew her habits well enough to know that was not going to happen.

Billy’s timid knock sounded at the door a bit after eight, and even though Poppy knew he had a key, she got up to greet him. It seemed only polite, as she assumed he was carrying a heavy tray.

“Good evening, miss,” he said when he saw her.

Poppy moved aside to let him pass. “Come in. Dinner smells delicious.”

“Chicken in sauce, miss. I had some earlier. ’Twas good, it was.”

“What kind of sauce?”

Billy set the tray on the table and frowned. “I don’t right know. It’s kind of a brown, I think.”

“Brown sauce,” she said with a friendly smile. “It is one of my favorites.”

Billy grinned back, and she suspected he’d be calling whatever this dish was Chicken in Brown Sauce for the rest of his life.

“Will the captain be dining here tonight?” she asked.

“I don’t know, miss. I brought enough food for two, but he’s very busy above deck.”

“Busy? I hope nothing is wrong.”

“Oh no,” he said reassuringly. “He’s always got a lot to do. We just thought you’d be getting hungry.”

“We?”

“Me an’ Brown an’ Green,” Billy said. He took an empty plate from the tray and began to set her a place. “We’ve been talking about you.”

“Do I want to know what you’ve been saying?”

“Well, I’ve had only nice things.”

Poppy winced. “Brown and Green and I did not get off to the best of beginnings.”

“Well, you can’t be blamed for being angry,” Billy said loyally.

“That’s very ki—”

“And they was just doing their jobs.”

Poppy decided not to push the issue. “So they were.”

“The captain said they’re allowed to come see you. If I’m busy, that is.” Billy gave her a sympathetic look. “He said no one else, though. But he said it in an awful strange way.”

“What do you mean?”

“He said—” Billy made a scrunched-up grimace. “I’m probably going t’get this wrong. He speaks right fancy sometimes.”

“What did he say , Billy?”

“He said . . .” Billy paused again, his heading bobbing up and down as he mouthed the words before actually saying them. “He said ’twould be his greatest pleasure if you did not have occasion t’meet any of the other men.”

Poppy clapped a hand over her mouth, but she couldn’t quite stifle her bubble of laughter.

“I think it might mean he fancies you,” Billy said.

“Oh no,” she said with great alacrity. “I assure you it does not.”

Billy shrugged. “He’s never talked about any other lady before.”

“Quite possibly because I’m the only one who has ever had cause to be aboard,” Poppy replied, with no great lack of irony.

“Well, that’s true,” Billy confirmed, “at least as far as I know.” He went back to setting her place, then did the same for the captain. “In case he comes for supper. That is t’say he will come and dine. He has to eat, and he always takes his meal in his cabin. It just might not be at the same time you do.” He stepped back, then motioned to the covered dish at the center of the table. “It’s one of his favorite meals. Chicken in brown sauce. He loves it.”