Mr. Belvedere laughed again. “Visiting a proper barber shall be my first order of business when we stop in Lisbon, I assure you. That’s our first stop, is it not?”
Richard looked dubious. “That’s a bamming story if ever I heard it. If you’re mixed up in something—gambling debt or legal trouble—fleeing the country will only make things worse.”
“Do I look like I’m fleeing a moneylender? No such thing, sir!”
“I’ve half a mind to tell the Packet Commander to put you out. You’ll be doing yourself a mischief.”
“No need to play me such a mean trick, on my honor! I’ll show you my father’s letters of introduction, if you wish.”
“I think I do wish.”
Lady Marston, perhaps annoyed at not being the center of attention, raised her voice. “Weare not travelling to Istanbul; we will leave the ship at Lisbon.” She offered no further details, but her husband was not so circumspect.
“Aye, that’s right. I’ve an old uncle in Lisbon who croaked—er, expired this spring, and I’ll be needed to settle his affairs. I’m his heir, you see.”
“But in war time?” Caroline asked. “Surely that is a matter that could be managed by solicitors and not expose you both to such danger.”
Sir Mark removed his snuff box and flicked it open with his thumb. “Ah, well, the French have been subdued lately with Napoleon obsessed with Russia; a packet boat hasn’t been lost in the last two years.”
“Is that so?” said Mr. Belvedere, pleasantly surprised. “I’m glad to hear that. Don’t fancy a French prison myself.”
“None of us do,” Richard agreed dryly.
They all watched as Sir Mark took a large pinch of snuff, snorting a little as he finished. “I don’t scruple to say there’s an odd smell here—but no Falmouth Stench is equal to my own blend of snuff.” Sir Mark held it out with great affability. “I’m willing to share, if anyone likes. Desperate times and desperate measures, you know.”
Caroline was scandalized that he would offer it to the women as well, but Mr. Belvedere only laughed and took a pinch. “Thank you, sir.”
His laugh began to grate on Caroline. Sir Mark had barely got the snuff back into his inner pocket when the ship rocked with sudden violence.
Caroline felt her stomach roll. “Oh, dear. Are we off? But Anne and Captain Wentworth are not here yet.”
“No, that was just a good swell. I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”
Caroline was nervous about the nauseous turn of her stomach. “I hope so. I think I had better lie down for just a little.”
“Of course, my dear.”
Mrs. Scott and the Marstons also excused themselves, and Mr. Belvedere bounded back up the ladder.
Richard shook his head as he accompanied Caroline into their cabin. “I hope that young man doesn’t mean trouble. I shall ask Wentworth if we ought to intervene.”
“Whatever you think. Only—do pass me that bowl. I may be sick.”
2
Captain Frederick Wentworth handed Anne aboard ship with a rueful smile. “I confess I am out of reason cross that your first voyage should not be on my own ship. Is that not petty? You would think I had outgrown such flights of boyish pride.”
“I would have enjoyed that greatly. And I daresay a captain never outgrows the wish tobecaptain. Will it chafe you terribly to act as passenger?”
He eyed the packet ship dubiously. TheLady Maryhad a good reputation among the ships that sailed set routes out of Cornwall—he would not let Anne sail on any ship that did not!—but it was hardly a ship of the line.
It was tiny, for one thing. A small dinghy—the requisite rowboat for a sailing ship—barely fit on the port bow. The rest of the deck was a riot of packages, barrels, crates, and animals. Most of it would be packed below before they sailed. The master must be busy packing it in like a fitted puzzle even now. But even when the decks were semi-cleared, they would be far from the trim cleanliness of theLaconia, which had been Frederick’sfavorite ship. There was a military rigor adhered to by most captains of the British Royal Navy, which was lacking here.
He’d known it would be so, and he’d mentally resigned himself. “It will chafe, of course, but I shall bear it with a good will. It cannot be worse than the dreadful winter crossing I had in the year ‘09. That poor vessel nearly?—”
He braced Anne against his side as a large pig barreled by, nearly bowling her over. She righted herself, only to stumble again as the deck tilted under them.
“Pardon! I cannot seem to keep my feet.”
