BACHELORS ON A BOAT
Meanwhile, on the Sun of Apollo
Leaning over the railing of the merchant ship, David Bennett-Jones squinted in an attempt to make out the distant shoreline.
“What do you see?” Ertugrul asked as he followed his friend’s line of sight. He spoke in precise English, accented with the lilting melodies of his native language.
“France, I think,” David replied, stepping back to aim his gaze up at the crewman who had climbed into the crow’s nest earlier that morning. The young Greek had a spyglass aimed in the same direction, his relaxed stance indicating all was well. “Won’t be long before we’re up to Southampton,” he added.
TheSon of Apollohad passed through the Straight of Gibraltar sometime in the middle of the night, the event marked by two crewmen who probably woke the entire ship’s contingent with whoops and shouts about sighting the Pillars of Heracles under a half-moon.
For David, who had still been awake, it had been a moment of shared joy. For Ertugrul, who had been sound asleep, it had been a startling and not so pleasant reminder that he was a passenger on a ship captained and crewed by Greeks. Despite the fact that Captain Popodopolis and his father had been friends since the Greek War for Independence, Ertugrul knew the crew harbored resentment against him and the Ottoman Empire. Some of their fathers had died in that war.
“Today do you think?” Ertugrul asked, hope in his voice.
“Tonight or early tomorrow,” David replied. He gave his friend a slight punch on his shoulder. “They don’t hate you,” he said in a quiet voice. “Despite what you think.”
Ertugrul shrugged. “What must I say to prove I hold no ill will against them?” he asked.
David winced. “Actions speak louder than words,” he replied. “Which I know doesn’t help now. But when you are the sultan...” He shrugged and allowed the sentence to trail off.
When—and if—Ertugrul became the sultan of the Ottoman Empire, it would mean Ziyaeddin I had either died or stepped aside to allow his choice of sultan to take over the position. Given how much his godmother, Charlotte, loved the sultan, and how much she was enjoying her second chance at being a mother of two young children, David rather hoped Ziyaeddin would live a very long life.
“...You’ll do what you must to prove it,” David finally added.
“By the time I inherit the empire, there might not be much left of it,” Ertugrul murmured.
“The less there is, the fewer problems you’ll have to solve,” David countered with an arched brow.
“The less there is, the fewer taxes there will be to collect to pay all the bills,” the sultan’s son reminded him.
“The less there is, the fewer bills there will be,” David countered with a chuckle.
Ertugrul gave him a quelling glance. “You say that now that the universities and the new palace are built,” he chided.
David angled his head to one side. “True,” he agreed. “Still... I should think you will appreciate even more what you’ve been able to accomplish in a few short years,” he commented. He clapped a palm against thesehzade’s back, which had the young man sighing in resignation.
“I will appreciate it only if I can share it with someone special,” the sultan’s son said on a sigh.
David furrowed a brow, understanding Ertugrul’s comment more than the young man could know.
It was time he begin courting. Time to find an English miss to take to wife. Time to populate a nursery and prepare for the eventuality of becoming Viscount Bostwick.
Prior to leaving on his Grand Tour, there had been three young ladies he was particularly interested in when it came to marriage. He had no idea if any of those three were still unwed, but even if the one for whom he felt the greatest affection was still available, would she even consider marrying him? A mere viscount’s son? With no hope of being more than a viscount?
As for Ertugrul, David wasn’t sure if the man realized what he was in for when it came to a Season in London. There were plenty of young ladies in search of husbands, but would any of them wish to marry a sultan’s son—even if it meant eventually becoming a sultana—and move to Constantinople?
He rather doubted it.
