by Liz Tyner
Melina might not care a halfpenny for him, but the darkness of her eyes and her hair called to him. And her body.
He’d watched her when he was on the rigging and his imagination had replaced the feel of the ropes in his hands with the strands of her hair across his fingertips. Immediately he’d thrust the thoughts aside—knowing that to let her invade his mind while he was perched in the air could be fatal.
She’d only walked on deck a few times. If she’d slipped or leaned against the mast, every seaman on deck would have been able to describe exactly where she stood when it happened. And unlike Cassandra, he didn’t think Melina would have been able to describe each watching male and where he was standing while he viewed her.
Cassandra had been gently bred a lady and had the heart of a dockside whore. Melina, the dockside whore he’d purchased, hadn’t yet learned the things she could buy with her body.
And he wanted to be with her. Over and over and over again—with only his body involved. No wondering who she talked about when she whispered with her maid and planned for her day of social calls—with detours.
‘Andrew.’ Ben spoke the word quietly.
Instantly, Warrington’s thoughts returned to the room. Ben had called War by his Christian name. His brother watched him, lips pressed together, but the smile on his face had a rueful curve.
‘You know—’ Ben gave a soft shake of his head. ‘The woman…’
‘Yes, I do.’ Warrington nodded. ‘And she’ll help me forget.’
‘I agree. But when you clean out one trunk, don’t fill it back up. Leave it neat and tidy.’
Warrington forced himself quiet while he heard the unasked-for advice.
‘I don’t—’ Ben spoke softly.
Irritation jabbed Warrington, but he also understood his brother’s concern. ‘Ben. I know. I remember. Never. Again. In fact, I want you to plan a return trip to Melos for Melina. She and I have discussed it. She agrees.’
His brother’s eyes widened. ‘I can. Not immediately, but soon. The repairs we made earlier were only temporary. I have to get Ascalon ready to sail for the East India Company.’
Warrington knew his brother had contracted to carry goods for the company and he would be gone at least two years, perhaps as long as three. ‘You’ve enough time. I already asked Gid how long the repairs would take and that gives you time to get to Melos and back again. Melina can return to her sisters.’
‘The way you look at her…’ Resignation showed in Ben’s face. ‘I will find the time to return her. Ships are a good thing, War. You get on one. You sail. A new horizon. A new woman.’ Ben smiled and flexed his leg. ‘Maybe some day you’ll be tough enough to handle a true voyage.’
‘Once my boots hit land, they’ll not be back to sail. I’m not getting over any water deeper than a bath.’
Ben expelled a breath. ‘Don’t trip over your petticoats when you leave.’
Warrington pushed himself from the door. ‘Wasn’t me pretending injury so I could lay abed drinking and sending a woman on false errands.’ He opened the door and gave a wave to his brother. ‘I’ll be at either the town house or Whitegate. See me before you leave, infant.’
‘Goodbye, old woman.’
Warrington walked out, knowing his trunk had already been taken to his room and letting the sunshine caress his face. Even the sun felt better when not reflected from below by water and not filtered from above by sea air.
Then he thought of the concern he faced. Rage caused his steps to increase. Cassandra had not merely been happy to tangle his life while she lived. She mangled afterwards, as well. He slapped a palm against the outside cabin door so hard his elbow tingled.
His past ate at him, only it wasn’t even his past. And it wasn’t even in the past, but at his country estate.
Chapter Ten
Melina crouched on the oak-planked bunk in the cabin. The mattress had been replaced on the bed. The pallet gone. Now Warrington’s trunk sat in the room, open. He stood in front of it, staring at the silk waistcoat and buff breeches, complaining that he had not brought someone named Broomer along so he could have cared for the clothing. Warrington had already taken out a gentleman’s beaver hat totally unsuitable for the ship or Melos.
Warrington was not of her world. She’d seen silk before and touched it. Her father had worn it. She lived in the world of scratchy wool and rough linen.
‘I do not like sailing.’ She spoke low, knowing her words wouldn’t carry though the wall.
‘Makes two of us and I own half of the ship.’ He gave her a half smile. ‘But my infant brother could talk me into buying a bag of bees.’
She shrugged. ‘He reminds me of Stephanos. Stephanos has a schooner and sometimes wears nearly the same clothes as the captain.’ She gauged Warrington’s face to see if he took offence at her dislike of his brother.
Warrington’s chest moved as if he laughed, but she heard no sound. ‘Ben doesn’t take well to being on his back, alone. And he’s superstitious. Though he’ll never say so to you, he thinks you brought bad luck to the ship.’
‘The only person I brought misfortune for was me and my statue.
Warrington turned from the trunk, preparing his razor, putting soap on his face and scowling into the small mirror. ‘I’m pleased you forgave Stubby.’
‘I’ve not—but he doesn’t need to know that. He meant no harm.’
‘Ben will stay on board a few more days, until he is walking better. Gid will see he has all he needs brought to him.’ Warrington shaved as he talked. ‘We three brothers have a town house in London. Ben will have to stay on Ascalon, making sure she is readied. Dane is at my country house, working with my man of affairs—taking care of the estates.’
He looked out of the window, as the ship sailed past warehouses for unloaded goods. ‘I can’t yet return to the country house. Whitegate is my ancestral home. My real home—though I’ve lived in the town house since Cass died. Now that I’m to be in London again, I have to settle a few things for myself. Things I couldn’t face before, but now it’s time.’
When he finished, he stored his shaving supplies and prepared to depart.
She kept her eyes to the window while he changed clothing. Each rustle of fabric echoed in her ears. He stood so close, she could see his arm when he donned the shirt. She bit down on her lip, trying to keep her awareness of him from changing her breathing or showing in the colour of her face. She wondered what he would do if she turned and watched. Probably continue exactly as he had been the moment before. But she could not let him see her interest and she could not give in to it. She swallowed, and tried to think of the sights she saw outside the window. But nothing beyond the glass had any appeal for her at this moment.
‘You can turn now, Melina.’ His roughened voice whispered at her ears, jarring her. She jumped forward, but couldn’t move much or she’d have her face against the panes. ‘I’m all tucked away.’
‘The sights of the town are neos, fresh, for me.’
He gave a teasing grunt and she could tell he backed away from her. But she was also aware from his response that he remembered well it wasn’t only the view in front of her that was new to her.
The clothing he’d worn while he sailed was tossed on to the floor.
‘You are not taking those?’ she asked, looking at the heap.
He shook his head. ‘Gid’ll see use is made of the scraps. I will never wear them again.’
She forced herself not to pick them up. Surely they could be sold for a few pence, but they weren’t hers to sell. She would have to find her father and hope she was wrong about him. She’d planned to rail at him for leaving her mother. Now she would have to be kind.
She’d not wanted Warrington to know she had a father in London because she felt ashamed he had deserted them. But she’d told him anyway.
‘Remember, Ben chose the town house fripperies and hired servants.’ Warrington opened the door. ‘It’ll not be much different than the ship. But when t
he ship is repaired, you’ll be here and able to go back to Melos, and care for your sisters.’
She took the satchel she’d brought, slipping the strap over her shoulder, and wrapped the shawl tight around her, then followed Warrington to the deck. She watched the port come into view. Already she could see the buildings and the people. The ship floated up the waterway, into England.
On deck, the shouts of orders and replies faded in her mind as she saw the city taking life in front of her. The people on the docks appraised the ship as if it were of no more significance than a mug of ale being put before them.
Waves sloshed, and somewhere in the distance, tar burned—from the odour, enough to coat Melos. The city stank.
Gidley waited, watching everything. His legs were braced for the ship’s nudge against the dock. The quartermaster steered and Stubby coiled rope. One adjustment to a sail always meant another loosening or tightening would be needed somewhere else.
Gidley had already placed the huge rolls of rope on the outside of the ship, which kept the sides from knocking constantly against the dock while in port. He stood, brow furrowed and showing no pleasant emotion about the chance to leave Ascalon.
Preparing herself to be jolted, Melina was surprised when the ship eased in with little more than a brush.
Melina wished she could slip into this new world as easily as the ship had. She’d have to find her father. She put her hopes in a man who’d left her to starve the past few years. But surely he wouldn’t feel the same if she stood in front of him.
Until she found her father, she was at the mercy of a man who cursed his wife’s name and when he looked at her after he said the words, he glared.
*
Warrington had sent Stubby for a hackney as soon as the ship docked and ushered her inside the carriage before she had a chance to look around.
Melina used a fingertip to edge back the carriage window shade so she could peer outside. Warrington insisted she not make a spectacle of herself and keep concealed. Never mind she’d just shared a vessel with over thirty able-bodied seamen—now he told her she would have to go about with a chaperon. An odd world.
She would have hated waiting to begin her search, but the sights in London amazed her. Melina had never imagined such wealth and such vibrancy. She could hardly believe what she saw. No city could be more alive. With so much activity, she wondered if the city ever slowed, even at night.
Melina didn’t know how the size of the city compared to Melos, but she imagined the whole of her island wouldn’t hold London. And she felt smaller and smaller.
*
The front of Warrington’s town house wasn’t grand compared to many others she’d peeked at during the carriage ride, but a sturdy shape, and beyond any dreams she might have imagined while on Melos. Curtains billowed outside, through the open windows, and she saw a young boy, pail in hand, trotting from the back of the house on some errand.
She could imagine telling her sisters about the city and not being able to convince them of the size. No one could create such a picture with words. More horses and carriages than she knew existed in the whole of the world. And people shouting out, and sometimes the drifting smell of baked goods pleasantly covering the more usual odours caused by so many people so tightly packed together.
When the carriage stopped, Warrington helped her to the paving stones.
‘If you think of this as Ben’s home,’ he said, standing at the door, ‘it will make more sense. Dane and I have lived in it at one time or another—and we all move in and out of it. But Ben stores his collections here.’ He looked to the house. ‘Dane and I refer to it as Seascrape.’
The house was set among other similar dwellings, close to the street, and three levels of windows, with a front that looked as fresh as if it had been completed the day before.
When the door opened, a man stood there, looking down. This giant of a man well outstripped any person she’d ever seen and he would have been frightening if not for the humour in his face. His upturned lips looked to stay in place at all moments of the day and if he were ever moved to tears, he’d still be smiling.
‘Ah, my lord,’ he said, giving a proper bow. He wore breeches, one leg of the clothing hanging a hand width too low as it appeared to have lost the securing button just below the knee. His yellow vest had a shine to it and his cravat was of the same colour. His brown woollen coat kept his clothes from overpowering the sun, but not by much.
‘Step inside. Step inside.’ He moved back. ‘We’ve made the house up pretty for when you and Captain Ben arrived.’
‘He’ll be staying on Ascalon a little longer than expected, Broomer.’ Warrington stepped inside the door and gave his hat to the man. ‘The ship needs repairs—and so does he. He’s limping around, grumbling and groaning because a wave tossed him into a spar.’
Broomer frowned.
War nodded. ‘It was close, but he’s tough. And he looks to be mending good as ever.’
Melina followed him inside and the big man gave another bow.
Warrington spoke to the man. ‘See to having us fed soon, but you’re not to do the cooking.’
Broomer laughed. ‘Can’t blame you. But you can see Mrs Fountain’s still working here.’ He patted his stomach. ‘I tell her she could make a dead rat taste good and she says she’ll try it some day to see if I notice.’ He laughed again. ‘If she wasn’t so scared of them little creatures, I’d be worried.’
‘Does your sister still live in the area?’ Warrington asked.
‘She’s doing work for that sewing lady you told me about,’ Broomer said. ‘My sister says everybody thinks that woman sews faster than anybody else. They never suspect two women are doing the fancy work.’
‘Can you bring her here to meet Melina and fashion several dresses as quickly as possible, and find fripperies to match?’ The corners of his eyes creased. ‘Tell her we do not want Melina to draw attention.’ He gave Melina a quick smile, and then turned back to Broomer. ‘Garments suitable for a governess, I suppose.’
‘She’ll be happy from ear to ear to be putting together something for your woman.’ Broomer gave another small bow to Melina. ‘She will be honoured.’
Melina saw Warrington’s face the moment Broomer called her Warrington’s woman. His jaw had tensed first, then he had looked at her and the light behind his eyes changed. He’d not obviously perused her body, but he’d watched her face in such a way she’d known he was remembering her touch, then the side of his lips lifted in the smallest amount before he turned back to Broomer.
‘I will pay your sister double if she can have something here by morning.’
With that the large man left and Warrington took Melina to the upstairs. He paused at the top. ‘Sitting room.’ He indicated to the right with his head.
He opened the door and she stepped inside. The walls were blue. A painting hung above the fireplace. Mermaids.
‘You can surmise who commissioned the art.’ His brows rose and he seemed to be saying something other than his words. ‘He’s a collector—of a sort.’
A fish candle holder sat on top of a bookcase and a ship replica with what appeared to be silver masts graced the mantel. The staff leaning in the corner was the serious end of a harpoon. Two sofas sat angled to catch the warmth of the fireplace. A writing desk with good-sized seating for it sat near the window to catch the light. One overstuffed chair was in another corner with the table beside it holding an ivory-coloured object mounted on a stand.
Warrington followed her eyes. ‘Tooth. Some kind of fish. My brother strangled it with his bare hands or something. Claims it wanted to drown a friend of his or swallow them both whole. Took it as a sign the day he caught it and said his luck changed.’
She nodded, even more certain she wasn’t fond of Warrington’s brother.
He shrugged. ‘I suppose having a passion for the sea is no different than any other. Ben didn’t choose it. I believe our passions choose us—unfortunately.’ His look lost e
motion. ‘Horses. Gambling. Beautiful women. The trick is not to let them become too strong in your life, I suppose.’
He turned away, speaking. ‘I’ll show you the bedchamber. We have two sleeping rooms on this floor. One is empty and the other is Dane’s, on occasion. Two are on the upper floor—one I use and the other one, which has more of the watery mementos, Ben prefers. I believe he even has part of an old sail stored there. The room smells of stagnant water, in my opinion—though Ben says I imagine it.’
He turned to leave the room, then reversed his movements, facing her. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll go to the British Museum.’
‘What of you seeing your children?’
He looked at her. ‘I’ll have them brought here or I will go there. Soon. I have not fully decided yet.’
She paused, measuring her words carefully. ‘I would like to go to Somerset House. That is the place I sent letters to my father.’
‘It will be no bother.’ He gave the words no inflection, no importance, and turned. Taking her to a bedchamber, he paused at the door. ‘We’ve had to move some of Ben’s collection here. Dane and I keep moving them around to whichever room is unoccupied.’
When she walked inside, Melina saw what she assumed, and hoped, was the most extensive collection of mermaid paintings in the world. The captain did like his mermaids. Or what passed for them.
These were not virtuous sea creatures if one judged by the looks in their faces and the poses they chose. Each mermaid had long flowing hair, which didn’t always fall in a modest covering, but more in an accentuating frame.
She kept her composure. ‘I suppose they are beautiful.’
‘That is not my first thought when I see them.’ He looked at her. ‘I’ll turn them to the wall if you wish.’
‘I am fine with them.’
‘I do not have a single mermaid painting in my room. Not one. I have sensible art. Not rabid females.’ His mouth was so close to her ear, she could feel his breath. ‘I would like to show you.’
