Indeed? Emeline suddenly found herself curious about the man. Though she could not fathom why. He’d done naught but cause her harm. “I perceive that he wounded you. I am sorry.”
Delphine’s gaze snapped to Emeline, both shock and agony pooling within her striking blue eyes. “How…?” She swallowed, then flicked her hand through the air. “Be back by supper or you won’t get a meal.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Outside, Emeline drew a deep breath of sea air, feeling sorry for Delphine. She’d always been critical of women like her, looking down at them for their sin and wickedness. But this woman had suffered greatly at the hands of men, that she knew. She dove her hand into her skirt pocket where she’d hidden the Ring. Perhaps ’twas this strange artifact that gave her such knowledge? Nay, impossible. Its powers hailed only from dark places.
Which is why she intended to throw it into the bay the first chance she got.
First, she must post a missive to Kingston, Jamaica. Even if her father was not there, surely one of her relatives would be at the Hyde Estate and would come to her rescue. She could not trust Captain Keene to have actually sent word.
The port city ofBasseterre was just as busy as yesterday. Bells clanged, ships sailed into the bay with holds full of cargo, and citizens and slaves bustled about. After inquiring of an elderly couple where she might post a letter, she dove between a wagon and a carriage rumbling down the street and entered the postmasters.
With that task completed, she emerged to a sun high in the sky and a sweltering heat that nearly sent her back inside. The scent of roasted pig, sweat, salt, and a hint of rain filled her nose. To her right, the twang of a fiddle joined the cacophony of sounds that all together created the unique symphony of the city.
A few men tipped their hats at her as they passed. More than one’s gaze lingered with interest above a suggestive smile. Despite the heat, she drew her shawl tighter, not wanting to give them a hint that she was not a chaste lady.
Turning right, she wandered past shops and warehouses—a butcher, ship chandler, tailor, sugar warehouse, and blacksmith—back to the home she’d seen Charlie enter. The master gunner was no doubt back on theSummonsand far away, but Emeline didn’t wish to return to Delphine’s yet. She preferred not to return to the brothel at all, but she had nowhere else to go as she waited for her father. And since she’d spent her last three pence on postage, she could not even barter passage on a ship heading to Jamaica.
More than once, she noticed a man in asuit of black camlet embellished with gold braid glancing her way. His posh attire suggested he was a gentleman and not a pirate, sailor, or one of the other miscreants who inhabited most port towns.
Regardless, she hurried along. Perhaps whoever befriended Charlie at the house she had entered would have a room to rent and would accept Emeline’s promise of a generous reward when her father arrived.
So, up the hill she went, then over to the door into which Charlie had disappeared. She raised her hand to knock, hesitating. What was she thinking? Perhaps the people on the other side of this door were no better than Delphine. Mayhap even worse. She turned to leave when the door flung open.
An elderly woman in a modest cotton gown with an apron tied about her waist and a mob cap on her head stared at Emeline quizzically. “May I ’elp you, Miss?”
The kindness in her voice and the twinkle in her eyes immediately set Emeline at ease.
“Forgive my intrusion, Madam. I…I…do you know Charlie…I mean a woman named Charlotte?” It only then occurred to Emeline she did not know Charlie’s surname.
The friendly gleam faded from the woman’s eyes, replaced by suspicion. “Who is asking?”
A child’s voice drifted from inside.
“I befriended her on the shipSummons. Her captain set me ashore here to wait for my father’s arrival and I—”
A young child, no older than three, with a shock of brown curly hair darted over to the woman, gripped her skirts, and stared up at Emeline. Innocence not yet tainted by the evil in the world shone from the lad’s wide eyes.
The woman swept him up in her arms. “I cannot help you, Miss. It’s just me and my son ’ere. We ’aven’t got any extra to give you.”
Her son? The woman was far too old to have a child so young. “Perhaps you have a room to rent? My father will more than compensate you. Charlie can vouch for me.”
The woman studied her a minute. A salty breeze fluttered the gray hair springing from her cap. “Charlotte is gone, and I ’ave no rooms, Miss. Now if you don’t mind.”
The lad reached a chubby hand toward Emeline and grinned. She grabbed it and shook it in greeting. “Nice to meet you, kind sir.”
“He likes you.” The woman smiled. “But I still cannot ’elp you.” Something caught her eye over Emeline’s shoulder and her posture stiffened. “Good day to you, Miss.” With that, the door slammed in Emeline’s face.
Drawing a deep breath, she turned to see the same posh gentleman in black attire strolling across the dirt street. Was he following her or was she being overly fearful?
Nay. He was most definitely following her.
To what purpose? She was no one of import. She had no money.
Clutching her shawl to her throat, she lowered her gaze and hurried down the street past him. One glance over her shoulder told her he had pivoted and was fast approaching from behind.
Lord?
