Page 13 of Valour

“And whyever not?” Hester winked at Charlotte.

“Look at you!” Septimus raged. “You are without doubt the most unscrupulous, disrespectful, arrogant cur I’ve ever had the displeasure to know.”

Hester hooted a laugh and slapped her thigh, clearly delighted by the insults. Outside, the rain stopped, sunlight bursting between the clouds and casting shadows across the room. “I am also the most skilled sailor in Havenport, have the most sea-worthy vessel and the hardiest crew, and I had planned this expedition with Ernest before he passed—my heartfelt condolences, Mrs Bailey.”

Charlotte bowed her head. Then wrinkled her nose. The wafts of vomit and whiskey coming from Septimus turned her stomach. She handed him a cloth from the desk drawer.

“Regardless, you have never sailed to the Southern Continent.” Septimus swiped the cloth and cleaned his breeches of Hester’s vomit, a look of utter disgust on his face.

Hester stuck her hands to her hips. “I have sailed to the Arctic, and some of my crew have travelled south. I am confident that navigating to Antarctica would pose us no problem. Ernest believed in my skills.”

Charlotte’s mind was whirring. Yes, she believed that Captain Orn would have no problem doing just about anything she set her mind to. She was the brightest, boldest thing Charlotte had ever laid eyes upon. It was like gazing upon flames. Flames that would either dance merrily or combust everything in their vicinity. And she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“See, Mrs Bailey? Arrogant. She has never been south, and I have. Many times. The choice is clear.”

It was very clear to Charlotte. Very clear indeed. She had no desire to spend time with a man who hurt women. Her thoughts flashed to a dark alleyway two years earlier, to another dark-haired man.

“It is cowardly to harm someone weaker than yourself,” Charlotte said, her voice quiet, a quaver in it.

Hester’s eyes widened, and Septimus stiffened.

“Captain Orn can hold her own in a fight, let me assure you,” Septimus said. He pointed a finger to a jagged scar that ran along his cheekbone and addressed Hester. “Do you want to tell her how I got this scar, or shall I?”

Hester smirked. “It further improves your rugged good looks, my lord.”

Septimus folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “She attacked me with a bar stool, and when it bounced off my face, it hit her squarely in hers, knocking her own tooth out.”

Hester hooted a laugh, a gold tooth glinting. “Now that was a good night. And in my defence, it wasn’t a totally unprovoked attack, was it?”

Charlotte’s neck hurt as she looked from one to the other of them. She could barely keep up. What an odd pair they were.

“It was a year ago. I’m not getting into this,” Septimus said.

Hester threw her hands in the air. “You started this conversation!”

Charlotte cleared her throat. “My decision is made. It was Ernest’s wish that Captain Orn should lead this expedition, and so I am offering the position to her,” Charlotte said, her eyes meeting the sparking green of Hester’s.

“An excellent choice, ma’am. You won’t be disappointed. Now, Septimus, I believe that is the end of your interview.” Hester’s face was a mask of triumph as she pointed to the door. “Good day to you.”

Septimus’s entire body seemed to clench, and he shot Hester such a glare that Charlotte feared for the captain’s life.

“Lord Septimus, thank you for your time, but you may leave now,” she said, and emboldened in Hester’s presence, added, “and if I hear of any foul play towards Captain Orn because of my decision, I shall involve the constabulary.”

“Neither of you have a clue what you’re doing,” he said, his voice raised, a slight quaver in it. “This will end in disaster, mark my words.” And with that, he swept from the room.

Charlotte hardly knew what to say next. In the silence, Hester’s stomach growled, and she clutched the back of the chair, holding her hand to her forehead, her skin growing paler by the second.

Goodness. She looked as if she might faint. “Are you quite well, Captain Orn?”

“Not really, ma’am. I haven’t had a thing to eat since yesterday, not after Septimus locked me in his cellar last night.”

Charlotte’s jaw hung loose. She surely had not heard correctly. “He did what?”

“I did something which…mightily displeased him,” Hester said, the corners of her mouth turning up.

Charlotte found herself desperately keen to know what Hester had done to elicit being locked in a cellar. She rang the bell for Alma. “Let me call for refreshments.”

Hester sagged, still holding onto the back of the chair. “Thank you, ma’am.”