Page 23 of Barbarous

“Lucien and Richard have inspected my ship to their satisfaction and are starving, having not eaten for almost three hours. If it is all right with you, my lady, Kemal will escort you to the Pig and Whistle while I exchange a few words with my first mate, Mr. Delacroix.”

Daphne was ridiculously relieved to leave Hugh’s cabin, where all she could think about was the book she’d stolen and what Hugh did in the large bed that took up half the room.

* * *

Hugh watched as Kemal led Daphne and the children toward the old inn. She had certainly seemed flustered about something. He pushed the thought aside and turned to the grizzled Frenchman, the only other man still alive to have escaped Babba Hassan’s prison.

“We’ll be ready to leave on the next tide, Captain. Or should I call you ‘my lord’ or is it ‘Your Grace’?” Delacroix’s weather-beaten face was as unreadable as ever but his dark eyes glinted with amusement.

Hugh scowled. No doubt his crew was greatly entertained to learn their captain was actually an English aristocrat. “Very droll. You know who you will be collecting, my friend, and I beg you to be very cautious. She is not without enemies, as you are well aware.”

“Aye, Captain,” Delacroix said with no change of expression to indicate his true feelings on the matter, which were, most likely, that Hugh was an insane man to risk his ship for one of Sultan Babba Hassan’s wives.

“Do not risk your lives. No heroics—do you understand?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“I am sorry to send you off after so little shore leave.”

Delacroix shrugged. “It is better that the crew—myself included—do not linger in this sleepy English town. There are no whores, no decent wine or food, and no amusing entertainments. The citizenry is hostile and too many days spent here would result in one of us doing something foolish and ending up dangling from a gibbet.”

“I daresay you are correct.” Hugh knew there was no point reminding Delacroix of the danger involved in venturing so close to Oran. They’d been together since both of them were breaking boulders on the outskirts of the sultan’s palace, each believing that was how they’d end their days. Instead he said, “I want you to take Martín with you. God knows I don’t need him running amok here.”

Delacroix gave him a lazy smile. “I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

Hugh did not doubt that for a minute. Delacroix was one of the few men able to control the young, arrogant New Orleanian.

Hugh extended his hand and Delacroix grasped his forearm. “Until you return, my friend.”

“Aye, Captain.” Delacroix smiled sardonically up at his captain before shooting a meaningful glance toward the Pig and Whistle. “I wish you fair winds and calm waters, Captain.” His knowing look gave Hugh a moment of surprised embarrassment.

“You rogue,” Hugh said, chuckling as he turned away. He could only hope Delacroix recognized the signs of Hugh’s obsession because the two men knew each other so well. He hated to think his interest in Daphne was so obvious to everyone around him.

* * *

Daphne had just finished ordering tea when Hugh entered the private parlor at the Pig and Whistle. He took a seat across from her, a boy on each side, and submitted with patience to their relentless grilling: Where was the Batavia’s Ghost bound? When was it leaving? What was it doing?

He responded to their questions, but Daphne couldn’t help thinking some of his answers were rather vague.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Daphne saw her chance.

“I, too, have a trip in mind—although not as exotic as Mr. Delacroix’s. I’ve decided it is past time we went to London.”

“London?” Lucien and Richard exclaimed together.

“London?” Hugh echoed, sounding remarkably like his putative cousins.

“But, Mama, why are we leaving just when Cousin Hugh has come home?”

Hugh’s honey-blond brows arched like silent echoes of Lucien’s question, and Daphne had the urge to throttle her eldest son.

“Cannot Cousin Hugh come with us, Mama?” Richard asked.

Daphne stared at her usually reticent son, a boy who often went entire days without speaking, until Daphne had to tease information out of him, just to make sure his voice still worked.

“Lord Ramsay likely has many important matters to see to now that he’s come back from—” She paused, but he just looked at her, expectant. “Well, now that he is back.”

The boys appeared to be struggling to absorb this new development and Daphne couldn’t blame them. She sounded like a dunce.