The Duke of Morewether’s Secret (24 page)

“In this house? I guess so. I’ve wandered around all over and seen most of it. Your room was the only place I haven’t been to. My father’s study is my favorite because of all the books. I’m going to start at the As and read all the way through to the Zs.”

“That’s ambitious. How long do you think that will take you?” The lady stirred her tea.

Lucy thought of the large room with the massive book case stretched all the way to the ceiling. She shrugged. “A year maybe.”

The lady nodded thoughtfully. “You know the library in the country estate is much, much bigger. I don’t know if a person could read all the books there in a lifetime.”

Lucy couldn’t imagine a room filled with so many books she would never be able to read them all. The thought was exciting. “I’d like to give it a try.”

They sat in silence for a while longer. The clink of a spoon against china and Ferdinand purring, a call of a far away bird from out the window, maids speaking softly in the next room — none of these noises or the silence were uncomfortable. They simply were.

Finally, Lucy broke the quiet. “I’ve never had a cat. There was one or two strays that made the theater home, but I never had one of my own.”

Her grandmother nodded and smiled again, and the stillness stretched a while longer.

Then, “What should I call you?” Lucy asked.

The woman inhaled deeply then let out the breath before answering. “I don’t know. What do you call your Mother’s mother?”

“Nothing. She’s dead.”

“Ah. Well then. My grandson calls me Grandmama, but he’s only two. You can call me Grandmother I guess, unless you have something else to suggest.”

Lucy tried out the word in her mouth, then said it out loud. “It’s sort of long. How about just Grand?”

This time Grand’s smile was wide, and her whole face lit up. “That sounds fine.”

“What do you think I should call my father?”

“Well.” Grand wrinkled her forehead and looked worried. “What did he tell you to call him?”

“He didn’t. We’ve never talked about it.”

“This is something you need to talk to him about. It’s his decision about how all of this will end.” Grand paused and her worried expression deepened. “It seems to me my son is going to recognize you, officially, so you will be a part of our lives, although I’m not sure how much exactly.”

“He’s sending me to school.”

“Yes, I know.”

“He wants me to go to the country with Miss Honeysett while he’s gone to fetch his wife.”

Grand nodded. “We’ll see. I have some thoughts on that myself.”

“I thought maybe Papa. Do you think he’d let me call him Papa?”

Her grandmother reached across the expanse from her sofa to the chair Lucy shared with Ferdinand and patted her arm tenderly. “I think you should try it out and see what happens.”

“Grand.” She tested the word, liking the feel of it and the way it made her a little fuzzy inside. “Will you teach me how to slide down the banister?”

A great peel of laughter made Ferdinand lift his head and glance at Grand before he went back to sleep. “No, dear. I’m much too old to slide on the banister.”

Later that day, when she discovered her father emerging from his study she called him Papa. He smiled at her and looked a bit surprised, but he didn’t correct her. Lucy wanted to hug him and have him hug her, but that hadn’t happened yet. She would have to be patient. After all, her father hadn’t been wanting a daughter for as long as she’d been wanting a papa. She’d give him time.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Christian was anxious to leave the loud, smelly harbor. As he’d boarded the
Starlight Seeker
, he’d talked to the captain again and offered him a ridiculous amount of money to put aside safety reservations and bound across the sea towards Greece. Thea had a week on him already, but, despite its outward appearance, this ship was sleek and designed for running fast. Fast ships made for more money in trade. Christian only crossed his fingers and prayed for good sea and high winds.

He’d stowed his bags in the captain’s quarters. He hadn’t demanded the better berth, but the man was English and must have taken Christian’s rank into consideration. The captain’s things were moved into the first mate’s and everyone had moved downward according to rank. An entire ship had been displaced because of him.

The tiny cabin wasn’t awful. There was a skinny bunk and a chest to store his things. Christian pushed his trunk in the only space available, clearing a five foot square area available to move about. He peeked out the porthole — at least there was that — and noticed with satisfaction that the sailors appeared to be preparing to cast off. The noise on deck rose as everyone above seemed to be shouting instructions of some kind.

As anxious as he was to be on his way, he felt an odd sadness at leaving home. Beyond his expectation, he was growing quite fond of his daughter, and he was certain he was going to miss her. Odd, really, since he’d only known her for such a short time. Amazing how fast a bond could form.

There had been tears when he’d gone to her room the night before to say his farewells. She’d made an excellent case for staying in London instead of going to the country with Miss Honeysett, but Christian had not been swayed. Even his mother had suggested leaving the child with her instead. But he didn’t want Lucy in London without him. Eventually people would learn who she was, and he wanted to be with her to offer support. Still, Christian’s sense of responsibility to his daughter was too great now that it had been awakened from its dormant state, and he insisted he would be there for any introduction.

He had promised to write as often as he was able, and his mother had agreed to spend time with Lucy in the country, and that had appeased his daughter somewhat. He was pleased with how well she and his mother were getting along. Miss Honeysett was diligent. He was confident she would be able to handle his daughter if the woman could ever keep track of the girl. He hoped the country would hold less fascinating things to distract her. His females would be fine while he was gone. He was certain of it.

Now, the female who’d gotten away was another thing entirely. With Anna’s wise counsel, Christian understood what needed to be done. He hoped.

As absurd as it was, he leaned into the wind in an effort to encourage the ship to travel fast. Greece was a very, very long way away and his wife had already had too much time to think.

After a serviceable meal in the dining room — or whatever it was called on board a ship — Christian retired to his bunk. The captain and his mates were genial and, based on the conversation during the repast, this would be a tolerable trip. Exhausted both physically and mentally, he made his way along the steep steps and pushed open the door. Even if he chose not to sleep, he could read for a bit until his head quieted.

The room was as dark as could be when the only space allowing light to come in came from the tiny round hole in the wall. Not even a sliver of moon shown in. Fortunately, the cabin was quite small and there wasn’t much in the way of furniture to bark a shin on. He made his way to his trunk where he’d left the candle, shuffling carefully until he found it with the toe of his boot. A flare of light illuminated the depressing little room, including the small bunk that would be torture for a man of his height.

It also illuminated the form of a sleeping child. One with blonde hair and the face of a pixie.

“Lucy!”

The child jolted awake. “Papa.”

“What in the hell are you doing here?”

“I thought you might be lonely on your trip.”

“Where is Miss Honeysett?”

“Still sleeping in London, I imagine.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do not play games with me, little girl.”

She seemed so small on his bunk, her knobby knees pulled to her chest and her thin arms wrapped tightly around her legs. Her voice was equally small and pitiful. “I didn’t want to be left all alone again.” Then she made him feel absolutely awful by breaking into heartfelt, blubbering sobs.

“You’re not going to make me feel bad by crying. You are supposed to be at the house in Yorkshire. Can you even imagine how frantic your governess must be? What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” She sputtered the words and wiped her nose with her sleeve.

“Why can’t you ever do what you’re told?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough. You realize you’re stuck on this ship until Greece and back?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

He yelled the words at her, then he realized that was precisely what she wanted. He peered at her as she sat there snuffling pitifully, and his heart softened. Pulling her into his arms, he stroked her hair and made shushing noises until she calmed.

“I’m sorry, Papa.”

“What are we ever going to do about poor Miss Honeysett?”

“Don’t worry. I left her a note. And one for Grand. I wanted to make sure she gave Ferdinand the treats he likes in the special way I do it.”

“I’m not happy with you. Not. Do you understand? You cannot continue to disregard my instructions and, in my stead, Miss Honeysett’s. Unacceptable, Lucy.”

She hiccupped and looked pathetic. Somehow, he knew she wasn’t authentically repentant. He suspected as soon as she encountered another situation that displeased her, she’d do whatever she needed to alter it to her liking.

His father would have noted, were he still alive to meet his granddaughter, the fruit hadn’t fallen very far from the tree. If Christian weren’t so angry at her for being so defiant, he would be proud of her. He was fairly certain that was an inappropriate response. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for fatherhood.

“What am I going to do with you now?”

“I’ll be quiet and do what I’m told and —”

“When are you going to start doing that? Now, all of a sudden? Somehow I find that impossible to believe.”

She looked dangerously close to tears again. “I promise, Papa.”

Christian let his head drop backwards and sighed. There was nothing he could do about it anyway. The
Starlight Seeker
was already a full day away from London and had been traveling fast on a good wind. He was stuck with her for the duration. The idea wasn’t wholly distasteful. “How did you get aboard undetected?”

A self-satisfied smile brightened her face and she turned towards him, sitting tailor style on the bunk. “I pretended to be Viola.”

“It’s late, Luce, and I’m tired.”

“
Twelfth Night
. Shakespeare. You know.” She looked at him expectantly.

Christian had to think back. Which one was
Twelfth Night
again?

“I wore some trousers and a cap. They all thought I was a boy. A cabin boy, maybe, like Viola.”

Ah yes, the shipwrecked lady who pretended to be a boy to attend court. He’d seen the play done last year at Covent Garden. “You’re saying you just walked onboard and no one said anything to you?”

She nodded, proud of herself. “Mother said I’d make a good actress someday.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, I played a good role today.” Was it possible she was miffed he didn’t appreciate her performance?

He levered himself from the bed. “You stay here. I’m going to go find the captain and clear you with him. I’m serious about this. You stay here.”

“I will.”

The captain didn’t find it any more believable than he that a little girl had boarded his ship and no one had bothered to inquire about her. “There’s no more cabins. I’ll have one of the hands bring a hammock. That’s the best I can do.”

Christian pumped his hand in gratitude. “Thank you very much. I appreciate your understanding.”

“I have children of my own,” the captain explained. “Who knows why they do what they do, especially the girl children? They’ll make you old before your time, you can be assured.” Then the two of them laughed heartily, although Christian wasn’t exactly sure what was so funny.

While he and the captain where sharing a companionable drink, a pimply-faced lad appeared with a hammock slung over his shoulder. He helped Christian string it up in the cabin, diagonally across the expanse of the room. Christian pulled his shirt loose from his trousers and yanked off his boots, placing them at the end of the bunk which held his sleeping daughter.

He considered the luxurious bed his wife was surely climbing into in their deluxe accommodations aboard the Persephone. Then he climbed into the swaying rope trap of misery.

Chapter Twenty-four

Hammocks were not designed for men over six feet. If he ever stood straight again it’d be a miracle. Christian had no idea when he actually went to sleep — sometime in the early morning he guessed — because if it had been possible to toss and turn in that wretched hanging contraption, he would have been doing it. Still he must have slept for a bit because when he woke, Lucy was not in the cabin. Not that he was actually surprised. It seemed his daughter was never where she was supposed to be. He rolled clear of the rope torture device and disconnected it from the wall so he could walk around in the room without strangling himself.

Lucy was on deck with the boatswain. Christian observed the gruff young man teaching her how to run the giant needle through some old canvas to repair a sail. In exchange, she spun him a pirate story complete with voices and a mock sword fight.

If he’d thought the crew wouldn’t appreciate a female on board, he’d been wrong. The crew took to her like the lonely seamen they were. She was welcomed in every area aboard ship. She helped the cook in the mornings, assisted the boatswain in any manner possible, and even cheerfully aided the cooper in the disassembly of barrels as they were emptied. It got to the point her father was certain that, by the end of the voyage, she could be hired onto any ship in any position, something he hoped she never discovered about herself since she seemed destined to follow any whim that struck her.

She wasn’t old enough to cause jealousy among the men on board, so there were never fisticuffs or worse for her attention. In fact, the only person who seemed even remotely irritated by her antics on board was Christian himself. It was childish, but he was feeling excessively put out as of late. It wasn’t that he pouted necessarily, but he was feeling sorry for himself, and a long sea voyage did give one an inordinate amount of time to dwell in one’s miseries.