She didn’t need to know that he had quietly reserved a copy of both the soon-to-be-published novels with Hatchards book shop in town. The order had been placed under the name of Lady Adelaide Saunders, but his mother would never know anything about it. Nor would she ever see the books.
Poppy sighed. “That’s a pity. I enjoyed her books. I bought Pride and Prejudice when I was in London three years ago. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I have read it during the long nights at sea.”
Imagine being able to sit beside her and talk about the books. Of the stories and the wonderful characters. Having someone who understands the joy that they bring me.
How could he even suggest such a thing? He pushed the thought away. He’d obviously banged his head harder than he had realized.
“Would you like to come below deck and have a look at the rest of the ship?” said Poppy.
Francis nodded, grateful for the change in subject. As he followed Poppy along the deck and toward the steps which led from the weather deck to the lower decks, he silently berated himself. When it came to this young woman, his skills of conversation failed him. His silver tongue became a lump of wood in his mouth.
Talking to the female sex wasn’t normally an issue for him. He was self-confident, if not outright cocky most of the time. But Poppy Basden had him stumbling around like a foolish schoolboy desperate to impress and appease the headmaster.
He wasn’t certain which was worse. Him battling her over the barrels and ropes or doing his utmost not to behave like a blathering buffoon.
Get your head together. It was just the sunlight on her hair and the gentle sway of her hips.
The sea air was playing tricks with his mind. A temporary madness had seized him, and he would shortly return to a state of sanity.
I hope so. If not, I am in serious trouble.
He followed Poppy as she climbed down the short, narrow set of steps which led to the lower deck. While her fingers barely brushed the handrails, Francis found himself having to hold on tight.
There were few portals or windows below deck, and it took a few moments for him to become accustomed to the dim light. He peered into the semi darkness, unsure of where to place his feet. Poppy, meanwhile, moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where everything was.
Using her pale hair as his guide, Francis tracked behind Poppy as she made her way along the lower deck. When she came to a sudden halt, he stumbled into her.
“Sorry. My eyes are not yet adjusted to the lack of light,” he said.
She turned and took a hold of his arm. “It’s a challenge all sailors face—being able to come out of the brightness of the ocean and safely move around below deck. Nuts are good for eyesight; so are oysters. I brought several large barrels of cashews with me for the voyage from Ceylon. I might have some left if the crew haven’t already eaten them all.”
She was practical as well as pretty.
Ruddy hell, this woman has me all at sea.
Her grip on his arm firmed. “We are about to pass through the galley kitchen. There is a stove on the starboard side. From the warm air, I would say some of the crew stoked the fire this morning in order to make themselves a hot meal. Just be careful where you put your hands, Francis. You don’t want to get yourself burned.”
He had been down into the lower decks of enough ships to know that small vessels such as the Empress Catherine were equipped with sheet-iron stoves, which could be used to bake food in. They usually also had a cooktop for pots and pans.
“It must be nice to have use of a proper fireplace, now that you are settled in the warehouse,” he said, as they continued into the kitchen.
Poppy bent and picked up a flat baking dish. “I might take this back to the warehouse. I would like to be able to cook a roast, so I could use this as a lid over the other pan I have. Things are slowly coming together. I must say, I am happy with the flower pots. Now that the area around the front door is clear, I would like to put some small, boxed garden beds in for herbs.”
Francis took the subtle rebuke over the barrel war with good grace.
He could see clearly now that his eyes had become accustomed to the dull light. “Here, let me take that,” he offered. Poppy handed him the heavy baking dish.
Mama would be proud of me, offering to carry kitchen dishes.
Actually, no, she wouldn’t.
Adelaide would have taken him to task for his boorish behavior. Then she would have started in on him. Made clear her firm opinion that this sort of incident would never have happened if he was a happy married man. She would impress upon him her further thoughts that marriage would solve much of his frustrations. If he had a sweet wife waiting for him when he returned home at night, he would be calm and not feel the need to go off causing a rumpus.
Rumpus was Adelaide’s favorite expression when she wished to give any of her children a lecture on their mood or poor conduct. If you weren’t paying attention before, you certainly were as soon as that word reached your ears.
Poppy opened a small wooden cupboard and rummaged around in it. “Ah, another handy little item.” A large metal pail appeared in her hand. “I need a bucket to cart water, and this might just do the job.”
The main water station for this end of the docks was situated near the gate at the entrance to the docks, but there was a handpump in the laneway which ran between the end of their block of warehouses and the next one. Who was to say that Poppy hadn’t been made aware of the other water pump much closer to home?
