Amanda Scott (23 page)

The sailor shook his head. “He’s still in his cabin, ma’am. Lost a wheel off that phaeton of his, and had the devil’s own time finding a wheelwright in Petersfield. Well nigh didn’t make it afore the morning tide. What with enjoyin’ the company o’ that pernickety Pettyjohn ’n the added weight of ’is groom up behind, ’tis no wonder ’e lost the wheel, or that he be in such a temper now.”

Diana knew now how she had passed Simon up without seeing the phaeton, but she asked no questions about the accident, for she had realized by then that the deck was moving beneath her feet. “We’ve sailed,” she said, not without satisfaction.

“Aye, that we have.” He released his hold on her arm and made a gesture toward the end of the companion-way, adding affably, “That way, ma’am. Door at the end.” She stumbled, catching herself against the bulkhead, and the sailor chuckled. “Not got yer sea legs yet, but they’ll come quick. Good thing we ain’t ’avin’ a true winter, though. Some winds I seen would toss this little craft about somethin’ fierce. Nobbut she’s a seaworthy lass. No need t’ fret. Only light winds these days, any gate. This ’as been the mildest winter since I can remember. Growin’ roses already, they are in Southampton. Saw it m’self, but it don’t seem natural. Usually, January ’n February, these waters ain’t fit fer fish, but if we make Le Havre afore sundown t’day, I’ll be that amazed. Here we be, ma’am. Ye’ll be needin’ a stiff upper, I’m thinkin’,” he added in a lower tone as he brushed dust from the shoulders of her habit. “Beg pardon fer the liberty, I’m sure, ma’am, but ’is lordship’s been in a fearsome temper. Best ye tread lightly, ma’am.” With these encouraging words he knocked on the door at the end of the companionway, and Diana’s knees began to tremble.

A gruff voice bade them enter, and the young seaman pulled open the door. “Party t’ see ye, me lord,” he said hastily. “Doubt ye’ll be wishin’ fer me t’ hang about. Be topside, an ye want me.” With that he fairly pushed Diana through the door, shutting it behind her.

The wood-paneled cabin was small, containing only a narrow bed under a porthole, two chairs, a small chart table, a brass fitted trunk, and the desk where Simon sat writing. He had not looked up until Diana’s somewhat precipitous entry, but just as the sailor shut off any hope of escape behind her, Simon turned. At first his expression was disbelieving, but no more than seconds passed before anger took over and, scraping his chair back, he leapt to his feet.

“By God, this time you’ve gone too far, Diana.” Two strides brought him to face her, his strong hands bruising her arms as he pulled her up onto her tiptoes and peered down into her face. “You look a mess. What the devil have you been doing to yourself?”

“I fell asleep in some sort of storage closet,” she said. “Please, Simon, you’re hurting me.”

“I intend to hurt you. I’ve warned you not to flaunt your defiance of my wishes before the world. I told you the next time would be your last, that I’d put you across my knee, and by God—” He broke off, bewildered, when she swayed in his arms. “What is it? Diana, are you all right?”

The deck persisted in rolling about under her feet, and even with Simon holding her, Diana still felt dizzy and a little sick. Fear of what he promised to do to her only augmented the other feelings. She swayed again, her face going white.

“Simon,” she whispered, “let me sit down.”

He half carried her to the nearest chair. “What’s wrong, Diana? Are you hurt? You look dreadful. Are you ill?” His questions shot at her one after the other, but his tone was anxious now rather than angry.

Her stomach was churning, and the walls of the little cabin seemed to be going up and down, up and down.

“Diana!”

She took a deep breath. “I’m all right, Simon, just tired. I rode so hard, and I’ve been so worried, and I’ve had nothing to eat since breakfast yesterday except for a bit of cold chicken last night.” The thought of food unsettled her stomach again, and she closed her eyes.

“Worried, why worried?”

She looked at him. “Because I didn’t tell you something you need to know. I went to the Comte de Vieillard yesterday and he told me why Rory went to France, and Rory means to marry Mademoiselle Beléchappé, and you made me so angry that I never told you, and I was afraid that awful Mr. Bonaparte would arrest you, too.”

Tears welled into her eyes as the words tumbled over themselves, and Simon gave her another small shake, though he spoke more gently. “Whoa, sweetheart. I think you’d better begin at the beginning. What the devil do you mean, you rode to visit the old Frenchman? Alone, too, I’ll wager.”

“Ned went with me. Not inside, of course, but I was quite safe, Simon.”

“No doubt. Tell me the whole, right up until Darby found you in that locker, and mind you don’t leave anything out,” he said sternly.

She told him everything, and the more she talked, the grimmer Simon looked. He interrupted with sharp questions more than once, and several times she thought he would shake her again. When she described her journey to Portsmouth his expression grew black.

“By God,” he muttered wrathfully when she had done, “I will beat you. Of all the totty-headed things to do! Why, anything might have happened to you, if not on the road, then certainly once you reached dockside. What had you planned to do if the
Sea Maiden
had sailed?”

Swallowing carefully, Diana willed her heaving stomach to calm itself. “I didn’t think about it,” she said in a small voice. “I was so worried about what might happen if you went after Rory without knowing what you ought to know that I just told myself the
Sea Maiden
must be here. I had to tell you. Oh, Simon, are you going to take me back now?”

“I can’t. There’s so little wind, it would take all day, assuming we could manage it at all. We’ve all we can do to get to Le Havre. But don’t get it into your head that you’ll go with me to Paris. You’ll stay right here aboard the
Maiden
, where I’ll know you’re safe.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but just then after a perfunctory knock, the cabin door swung open and the sailor she had met earlier entered, a tray balanced over one shoulder. “Beggin’ yer pardon, me lord, but I remembered ye’d ordered a bite afore the interruption, so t’ speak, and thinkin’ the lady would like a bit o’ refreshment, I took the liberty…”

As he talked, he lowered the tray, pushing charts aside to make room on the table near Diana’s chair. The smell of food reached her, and she glanced at the tray. The first thing that met her gaze was a pile of juicy, pink slivered ham. With a strangled yelp, she turned away, clapping one hand to her mouth, the other to her rebellious stomach. “Simon,” she gasped, “a basin!”

He stared at her in amazement but quickly recognized her predicament and snatched up a wash basin from under the table with little care for the empty pitcher inside it. The pitcher rolled back and forth on the floor as Simon pushed the basin into Diana’s hands. He glanced back over his shoulder.

“Get out, Darby.”

The sailor fled, snapping the door shut behind him.

Simon was grim but efficient. He held her head while she rid herself of what little remained in her stomach of the cold chicken, bread, and wine from the evening before, then handed her a towel and took the basin to the door. Since he didn’t shout for anyone or leave the cabin, she assumed that Darby had not gone far, but she was too weak to worry about embarrassment. She wiped her face, watching her husband. He spoke quietly to someone in the companionway, then turned back, shutting the door again.

“Are you wearing stays?” he asked.

She shook her head, surprised by the question.

He regarded her through narrowed eyes. “I think you’d better come out of that habit, anyway,” he said.

“Really, Simon,” she said, “I’m not ill. It is only—”

“I know you’ve merely succumbed to a case of
mal de mer
, my dear, but I think you can trust me to know more about what will help under the circumstances than you do. And I wish you to become well soon, so that I may deal with you as you deserve. Now, get out of those clothes. Here,” he added quickly when she swayed in her chair, “I’ll help.”

That made her smile. “Simon,” she said softly, “it was the motion of the ship that made me lose my balance just then, but I am not seasick. Furthermore, my lord, you cannot scold me one moment and then leap forward to help me the next. It quite ruins the image of the stern lord and master. You will have to learn to manage better before our son is born.”

He was unfastening her spencer, but her words stopped his fingers. For a moment he looked down at her, puzzled, but when she smiled at him again, he shook his head a little as though to clear it, and his hands tightened on the lapels of her jacket. “Our son? Are you trying to tell me—”

“That you cannot beat me, Simon. You might injure the baby.”

There was a moment of silence before Simon looked her straight in the eye and said, “If your mad journey on horseback and in a rented, probably poorly sprung, chaise did not harm the child, I doubt that my taking a strap to your backside right now would come at all amiss. He’d probably side with me if he were asked for an opinion in the matter after being bounced about like that.”

“My mother rode every day when she was carrying her children,” Diana said defensively.

“I doubt if she rode the way you must have today,” Simon retorted, applying his fingers once more to the fastenings of her jacket.

She could see that he was still angry, and she felt a surge of disappointment. She had thought to disarm him entirely by telling him of her condition. Instead, the news had merely made him angrier. He pulled her spencer off, then reached to unfasten her bodice and skirt.

“Surely, I needn’t take all my clothes off,” she protested. “What if that sailor comes back?”

“Don’t fret about Darby. I’m going to put you to bed. You can wear one of my shirts.”

He helped her to the side of the bed, then moved to take a soft white shirt from the brassbound trunk. It was too large for her, but its softness seemed to caress her skin. In the huge shirt and with Simon standing over her, she felt particularly small and vulnerable, so she did not attempt to speak until she was in the bed, but once she had the dark wool blanket over her, she said, “Simon, I’m not sick, truly I’m not. Aren’t…aren’t you glad about the baby?”

He bent over her, his lips just touching her forehead. “I’m glad, sweetheart,” he said softly, “but I’m also angry with you, and the emotions get a bit mixed. I’m going to leave you to rest for a while, then Darby will bring you a little food and some brandy to settle your stomach. No,” he said, putting a finger to her lips, “don’t argue with me. You put both yourself and our child in danger last night, and I don’t think I can trust my temper. We’ll talk later.”

When he was gone, Diana lay in the narrow bed staring at the cabin door until the tears came. Simon had never been too angry to talk to her before. Whenever he was angry he bellowed at her and shouted like he had earlier, scolding and threatening, but he had never simply walked away. His last three words had sent chills racing through her. Three words, spoken calmly, yet they had sounded more ominous than all that had gone before. She wanted to go after him, but she knew that to do so would be most unwise. Besides, he had taken her habit with him, no doubt hoping to shake the worst of the dust out of it. The more she thought about his anger, the faster the tears fell, until she had cried herself into exhaustion and sleep.

It was dark in the little cabin when she awoke, but someone was lighting candles on the chart table. She recognized the young sailor, Darby.

“What time is it, Darby?” she asked, stretching in the little bed.

“Just after six, my lady.”

“Gracious, have I slept all day, then?”

“Guess you was a mite tired.”

“Where is his lordship?”

“Gone ashore.”

Diana sat up, clutching the blanket about her. “Ashore! Have we landed in Le Havre? Has he gone on to Paris already?”

“No, no, my lady, not to Paris. He’s only gone to bespeak dinner at an inn. He thought you would be more comfortable dining on solid ground.”

With a sigh of relief, Diana sank back against the pillows. “Are you his only crew, Darby?”

“No, m’lady, there be three others topside, but I takes care of my lord when we sails, bein’ as that pernickety Pettyjohn prefers to go by the packet. Forsham, too. He’ll be gettin’ transportation all laid on fer ’is lordship, ’cause the packet landed only shortly after we did ourselves. I’ve no doubt Mr. Pettyjohn ’as arranged fer ’is lordship’s supper, but bein’ as ’ow he went straight into town and didn’t know you was meanin’ t’ accompany ’is lordship—”

“I see, Darby. Have I time for a wash?”

“Brung the water, meself, m’lady. In that pitcher, there. An’ yer clothes be on the hook yonder. Don’t be in a worry about wearin’ yer habit. Them Frenchies won’t know but that it’s the fashionable thing t’ do.”

He winked at her as he slipped out through the door again, and Diana knew she had found a friend. She wondered now if his interruption with the ham earlier had been intended to spare her further scolding. If it had, she ought to find some way to thank him, even if his efforts had been unsuccessful.

Her eyes were puffy from crying, but cold water helped, and her hair was easily dealt with. She simply stuffed it back into its net and tied the ribbon at the nape of her neck, deciding the strands and curls that escaped the net were becoming and kept the style from being too severe. She dressed slowly. It seemed odd to be donning her riding habit to have dinner with her husband at an inn. No doubt he had come prepared for anything, since he intended to mix socially in Paris, while she had nothing but the clothes on her back. He would probably have something to say about that, too, she decided. She wondered what else he would say to her when they talked.

Simon entered the cabin without ceremony fifteen minutes later. He was wearing buckskins and a dark jacket. He looked very handsome, but he would scarcely outshine her at the inn. She picked up her hat, facing him with her shoulders square.

He looked her over appraisingly. “Ready?”