Ramage & the Renegades (44 page)

“Nicholas's is very small,” he said and ploughed on. “That uniform—whose is it?”

She blinked and then her eyes were wide open with surprise. “What uniform?”

“The military uniform you lent me the day …”

“Oh yes! The day you were using a stock as a loincloth! Most dashing you looked, but you needed something, well, more substantial, before you met people like Mrs Donaldson!”

“You haven't answered my question,” he reminded her.

“But Nicholas, it's such a silly question! What on earth does it matter?”

“It matters to me,” he said stubbornly.

As soon as she realized he was serious she said quietly: “Does it
really
matter to you all that much? It was just a uniform which fitted you.”

“Yes, it matters. I must know.”

Suddenly she began to go pale and instinctively she touched his arm. “You think it is my husband's?”

“Yes. What else can I think?”

She shook her head slowly, as though trying to make herself understand something.

“You are jealous of him?”

“Of course.” The
Calypso
looked a fine sight over on the starboard quarter but seemed remote from him.

“Why? Why should you be jealous of him?”

He sighed and was just about to turn away and return to the other people: it was the husband's uniform, she loved the man, and she had not the faintest idea that she was loved by the Captain of the
Calypso
frigate.

“It is of no consequence now, ma'am,” he said stiffly, and then forced a smile. “We must rejoin the others.”

“No, wait. It is of consequence why you should be jealous of him.”

“Flattering for you, ma'am, but hardly of consequence to a married woman.”

“Answer me!” Her voice was low and her fingers grasped his arm.

There was nothing to lose: a few minutes' embarrassment and he could leave the ship and return to the
Calypso
after taking a bowl of soup, claiming his arm was paining him.

“I have fallen in love with you. So naturally I am jealous of your husband.”

She held his eyes. “Listen carefully, Nicholas,” she said softly. “My father went out to India three years ago as the Governor General of Bengal, and he took his family with him. He found he disagreed with much the Honourable East India Company is doing, so he resigned, and we are all returning to England. All but one of us.”

Now it was his turn to be puzzled. “All but one? Your husband?” Yes, of course, he had died out there.

“All but the owner of the uniforms. He has resigned his commission with the Company—he was my father's ADC—because he wants to remain out there for another year or two. His uniforms are in the trunks, although for the life of me I don't know why they were not burned before we sailed.”

“Let's join the others,” Ramage said miserably.

“But you still don't know who owns the uniforms!”

“I can guess, though why you didn't stay with him, I don't know.”

“My brother is a pompous bore,” she said.

“Let's join the—
your brother?
”

She was laughing as she nodded. “Why are you in such a rush to join the others?” she asked innocently. “Does my company bore
you?
”

 

D
UDLEY
P
OPE
is well known both as the creator of the Ramage novels and as a distinguished naval historian. Pope falsified his age in order to enlist in the British Merchant Navy during World War II. In action, his ship was torpedoed and he spent 14 days at sea in an open lifeboat. After being discharged due to the injuries he received, he worked as the naval and defense correspondent at the
London Daily News,
and turned to writing fiction at the urging of C. S. Forester. Pope, the author of ten nonfiction works as well as the 18 books in the Ramage series, died in 1997.