Another pensive silence, which lasted until the carriage turned into the King’s Dockyard.
“Welcome, Lord Saybrook.” As promised, one of Grentham’s military adjutants was waiting for them, along with a contingent of sailors and carts to transfer their trunks to the waiting ship.
The earl quickly descended and followed them back to the baggage carriages to help supervise the transfer.
“I had better accompany Sandro,” murmured Sophia. “There are several of my valises that I wish to ensure are put in my cabin rather than stowed in the ship’s hold.”
Arianna glanced at the flurry of servants and sailors surrounding the coaches. “I shall only be in the way, so I’ll meet the two of you at the gangplank.”
She turned and walked toward the near wharf, where a sleek post ship was tied up and seething with last-minute activity as the crew readied it for departure. The sight of the masts and furled sails stirred sudden memories of her years in the West Indies. Following the murder of her disgraced father—he had fled England to escape a financial scandal—she had drifted from island to island, supporting herself through a number of less-than-legal activities—including work as an actress in a theatrical company, whose proprietor had made an excellent living fleecing unwary investors and theater owners.
A wry smile briefly touched her lips as she recalled the many midnight escapes they had made by the skin of their teeth. It had been a dark interlude in her life, but there had been good times, too. She had learned resilience and self-reliance.
The best part of that vagabond life had been sailing. The sense of unfettered freedom had always appealed to her nature, so she found herself looking forward to the upcoming voyage.The wind in her hair, the salt spray stinging her cheeks, the horizon ever beckoning.
A shout from a lieutenant to a sailor high on the foretop yardarm brought her back to the moment. Arianna ventured closer to the ship, her gaze moving from the bow to the stern where the quarterdeck rose up from the main deck. A cloaked figure was standing by the rail, his back half-turned to her. Perhaps it was the sudden thoughts of her former life that had his stance and the slope of his shoulders looking familiar.
She shook off the absurd notion . . . and then he shifted.
No. Impossible.
But as he turned in profile there was no denying the truth.
“Bloody, bloody hell,” she whispered as the man looked up to watch the gulls circling high in the cloud-dotted sky.
It was, she thought grimly, a good thing Grentham hadn’t come to see them off.
Otherwise, she would have been sorely tempted to punch him in the nose.
Chapter9
A glanceover her shoulder showed that Saybrook and Sophia were still sorting out the baggage. Deciding to take the bull by the horns, Arianna marched to the gangplank.
“I’m sorry, Madam, but you can’t—”
Ignoring the marine guard, she hastened up the steep incline and stepped onto the main deck.
“H-Halt! L-Ladies aren’t permitted aboard a Royal Navy warship,” stammered a spotty-faced midshipman.
“The captain will assure you that I have all the proper credentials to be here,” said Arianna as she breezed past him.
The poor lad appeared too shocked to react.
Quickening her steps, she darted around the helmsman’s station and the mizzenmast. Up ahead was the short ladder leading up to the quarterdeck. Fisting her skirts, she climbed it in a flash.
With all the thumps and shouts from aloft, the man didn’t hear her approach. She stopped short and sucked in a breath, trying to keep her temper in check.
“Ye gods, Wolffy—didn’t you learn your lesson last time?”
James Wolff turned to face her, a smile blossoming on his craggy face.
Arianna had last encountered Wolff—the erstwhile owner of the Wolff and Lamb Theatrical Company, and her former employer—on a mission to Elba a little over six months ago. Grentham had given her old friend a choice—go to the gallows for his latest swindle or undertake a clandestine mission for the Crown, masquerading as a German count. The charade had nearly gotten Wolff killed, but in the end, he had fulfilled his end of the bargain and earned his freedom.
“How could you be so damnably,damnablystupid as to put yourself in a position to owe Grentham yet another lethal favor!” she exclaimed.
“Grentham had no hold over me this time around,” replied Wolffy calmly, and heaved a martyred sigh. “If you must know the truth, it’s allyourfault that I’m here, Annie.”
“Myfault?” She stared at him in open-mouthed shock.
