Page 14 of Valour

“Do have a seat, and please, call me Charlotte.”

Hester slid into the chair. “As you wish, Charlotte.”

This woman was wholly fascinating. Everything about her seemed larger than life. Dazzlingly vivid. Eyes—green as the sea—sparkled with mischief, smudged red lips, golden-brown hair cut just above her shoulders, countless gold hoops in her ears, tattoos all over her hands, arms, chest. A chest which was very much on show within a ripped red dress. Her skin was bronzed by the sun, a smattering of freckles across her cheeks.

Alma appeared at the door. “Yes, mistress?” The housekeeper did her best to hide her shock at the draggletailed appearance of Hester, but her face was still a picture.

Charlotte dragged her eyes from Hester. “Could you fetch tea and some of those excellent cheese scones you made earlier, Alma?”

Alma nodded and hurried off.

Charlotte had a thousand questions burning in her mind. “Now, while we wait, I’m dying to hear more about you, Captain Orn. How did you come to own the Valour at such a young age?”

“It’s a fine story and no mistake,” Hester said with a grin, crossing her ankle over her knee and settling back into the chair, just as Septimus had done earlier. “But it’s much better told over ale. It involves cards, whores and unfathomably stupid men.”

“Goodness,” Charlotte whispered, transfixed with the woman opposite her. She’d never met anyone quite like Hester before. She had no doubt that she might learn a thing or two from her about being bold, about standing up for herself.

Later that night, Hester dragged Fliss through the door of The Black Harpoon, her coin purse heavy with the seventy-five gold coins she owed Septimus, taken from the funds Charlotte had signed over that afternoon.

A hand grabbed Hester’s upper arm as she entered the tavern, spinning her around. She found herself nose to nose with Victor.

“He’s in the worst temper I’ve ever seen. I wouldn’t go near him,” Victor said, moving his body to shield Hester from view.

“I have the money I owe him,” Hester said with a shrug.

“Let me deliver it then.”

“That’s ever so chivalrous, but I insist on paying back my debts myself.”

There was a crash from the back of the room, followed by a guttural scream. Victor stiffened. “Seriously, Hester. You’d be a fool to go near him right now.”

Was she a fool? Hester weighed up her options. But oh, she really did want to see the look on his face when she gave him the coins.

Fliss laid a hand on her shoulder, brown eyes pleading. “Listen to him, Hess. Please.”

“But—”

Victor took the coin purse and when she reached out for it, Fliss grabbed for her wrists.

Hester ground her teeth. “Outrageous! Give that back⁠—”

“Come now, this way is safer,” Victor said. “Trust me. You haven’t spent weeks at sea with him like I have. I know him. It’s safer if I do it.”

Safer.

Hester struggled free of Fliss’s hold on her, snatching the coin purse back from Victor. Doing the safest thing was no fun at all.

She dodged around Victor, pushing through the crowd, keeping ahead of Fliss. As Hester neared the back of the room, she caught a glimpse of Septimus, sitting at his usual table, head in his hands, black hair unbound and hanging down. He looked undone.

Poor privileged man, thwarted in his plans for glory. She rolled her eyes, strode over and dropped the coin purse on the table in front of him. “The coin I owe you, my lord.”

He looked up slowly.

She couldn’t help it. A smile crept over her face. “And commiserations on losing to me. I suppose the best person for the job was chosen after all.”

Fliss groaned from behind her.

Septimus stood quickly, a snarl on his face.