“Runs in your family, does it?”
Her eyes turned wary. “What?”
“The height, lad. What the devil did you think I meant? Certainly not your looks, since you and your brother don’t take after each other a’tall.” And then he laughed suddenly, a deeply resounding sound.
“I don’t see what you find amusing in that. We merely have different mothers.”
“Oh, I gathered something was different, all right. Mothers, is it? And would that explain your lack of a Scottish burr?”
“I didn’t realize I had to give my life’s history for this job.”
“Why so defensive, squirt?”
“Give over, Connie.” Another deep voice was heard with very clear warning in it. “We don’t want to scare the lad off, now do we?”
“Off to where?” The first mate chuckled.
Georgina’s eyes narrowed. Had she thought she didn’t like this redheaded Englishman on principle alone?
“This food is getting cold, Mr. Sharpe,” she said pointedly, her tone stiffly indignant.
“Then by all means take it in, though I seriously doubt it’s food he’s in a mood for.”
Back came the nervousness, in spades. It had been thecaptain’svoice that had interrupted. How had she been able to forget, even for a minute, that he was waiting inside? Worse, he had likely heard everything just said, including her impertinence with his first officer—provoked, but still inexcusable. She was a lowly cabin boy, for God’s sake, yet she’d answered Conrad Sharpe as if she were his equal…as if she were Georgina Anderson rather than Georgie MacDonell. Any more mistakes like that and she might as well take off her cap and unbind her breasts.
After those last cryptic words, the first mate waved her inside and then left the cabin. It took a concerted effort to get her feet to move, but when they did, she nearly flew through the door to the dining table of Tudor oak in the center of the room, a heavy piece of furniture long enough to accommodate more than a half dozen officers comfortably.
Georgina’s eyes fixed on the tray of food and stayed there, even after she set it down. There was a large shape beyond the table, standing in front of the wall of mullioned windows that were beautifully framed in stained glass and filled the room with light. She was just barely aware of the large shape blocking some of the light, but it told her where the captain was.
She had admired the windows yesterday when she had been allowed to familiarize herself with the cabin and make certain it was ready for occupancy. It was that, and fit for a king. She’d never seen anything quite like it, certainly not on any Skylark ship.
The furnishings were all extravagant pieces. At the long dining table sat a single armchair in the newest French Empire style, with bronze mounts on mahogany, and bouquets of colorful flowers embroidered on an ivory background on the thickly cushioned seat, back, and sides. Five more of these chairs were about the cabin, two before the windows, two in front on a desk, one other behind it. The desk was another heavy piece of finery, with large oval pedestals rather than legs, painted in classical scrollwork. The bed, however, was truly a piece of art, an antique of the Italian Renaissance, with tall, deeply carved posts and an even taller headboard in an arched column effect, the mattress covered in white quilted silk.
Instead of a sea chest there was a tall teakwood Chinese cabinet similar to the one her father had given her mother on his first return from the Far East after their marriage, this one decorated with jade, mother-of-pearl, and lapis lazuli. There was also a Queen Anne highboy in burl walnut. Between them and standing just as tall was an ebony and brass clock in the modern style.
Instead of shelves built on the wall, there was an actual mahogany bookcase with gilded and carved decorations and glass doors revealing eight shelves completely filled with books. She recognized the Riesener style in the commode, with marquety, floral decorations, and ormolu moldings. And behind the folding screen, with its painted English countryside on supple leather, that concealed one corner of the room was a porcelain tub that had to be special-made, it was so long and wide, but thankfully not very deep, since she would probably be lugging water to it.
The clutter, what there was of it, consisted of nautical instruments mostly, scattered on or near the desk; a two-foot-tall nude statue in bronze sitting on the floor; and a copper kettle near the washstand behind the screen. Lamps, no two alike, were permanently affixed to the furniture or hung from hooks on the walls and ceilings.
With large and small paintings, thick carpeting from wall to wall, it was a room you might find in a governor’s palace, but certainly not on a ship. And it had told her nothing about Captain Malory except that he might be eccentric, or that he liked fine things around him, even if in a hodgepodge order.
Georgina didn’t know if the captain was facing her or looking out the windows. She hadn’t looked yet, still didn’t want to, but the silence was lengthening and stretching her nerves to the breaking point. She wished she could just leave without drawing his attention to her—if his attention wasn’t already on her. Why didn’thesay something? He had to know she was still there, waiting to serve him in whatever capacity he required.
“Your food, Captain…sir.”
“Why are you whispering?” The voice came to her in a whisper as soft as her own.
“I was told you…that is, there was mention that you might be suffering the effects of overindul—” She cleared her throat and raised her pitch to amend briskly, “A headache, sir. My brother Drew always complains about loud noises whenever he…has headaches.”
“I thought your brother’s name was Ian.”
“I have other brothers.”
“Don’t we all, more’s the pity,” he remarked dryly. “One of mine tried to drink me under the table last night. Thought it would be amusing if I wasn’t fit to sail.”
Georgina almost smiled. How many times had her brothers done the same thing—not to her, but to each other. And she did get her fair share of pranks, rum in her hot chocolate, bonnet strings tied in knots, her drawers flying from the weather vane, or, worse, strung up the mainmast of another brother’s ship, so the guilty one wouldn’t get blamed. Obviously, rascally brothers were universal, not confined to Connecticut.
“I sympathize, Captain,” she thought to offer. “They can be quite tedious.”
