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Melina followed him inside and the big man gave another bow.
Warrington spoke to the man. ‘See to having us fed soon, but you’re not to do the cooking.’
Broomer laughed. ‘Can’t blame you. But you can see Mrs Fountain’s still working here.’ He patted his stomach. ‘I tell her she could make a dead rat taste good and she says she’ll try it some day to see if I notice.’ He laughed again. ‘If she wasn’t so scared of them little creatures, I’d be worried.’
‘Does your sister still live in the area?’ Warrington asked.
‘She’s doing work for that sewing lady you told me about,’ Broomer said. ‘My sister says everybody thinks that woman sews faster than anybody else. They never suspect two women are doing the fancy work.’
‘Can you bring her here to meet Melina and fashion several dresses as quickly as possible, and find fripperies to match?’ The corners of his eyes creased. ‘Tell her we do not want Melina to draw attention.’ He gave Melina a quick smile, and then turned back to Broomer. ‘Garments suitable for a governess, I suppose.’
‘She’ll be happy from ear to ear to be putting together something for your woman.’ Broomer gave another small bow to Melina. ‘She will be honoured.’
Melina saw Warrington’s face the moment Broomer called her Warrington’s woman. His jaw had tensed first, then he had looked at her and the light behind his eyes changed. He’d not obviously perused her body, but he’d watched her face in such a way she’d known he was remembering her touch, then the side of his lips lifted in the smallest amount before he turned back to Broomer.
‘I will pay your sister double if she can have something here by morning.’
With that the large man left and Warrington took Melina to the upstairs. He paused at the top. ‘Sitting room.’ He indicated to the right with his head.
He opened the door and she stepped inside. The walls were blue. A painting hung above the fireplace. Mermaids.
‘You can surmise who commissioned the art.’ His brows rose and he seemed to be saying something other than his words. ‘He’s a collector—of a sort.’
A fish candle holder sat on top of a bookcase and a ship replica with what appeared to be silver masts graced the mantel. The staff leaning in the corner was the serious end of a harpoon. Two sofas sat angled to catch the warmth of the fireplace. A writing desk with good-sized seating for it sat near the window to catch the light. One overstuffed chair was in another corner with the table beside it holding an ivory-coloured object mounted on a stand.
Warrington followed her eyes. ‘Tooth. Some kind of fish. My brother strangled it with his bare hands or something. Claims it wanted to drown a friend of his or swallow them both whole. Took it as a sign the day he caught it and said his luck changed.’
She nodded, even more certain she wasn’t fond of Warrington’s brother.
He shrugged. ‘I suppose having a passion for the sea is no different than any other. Ben didn’t choose it. I believe our passions choose us—unfortunately.’ His look lost emotion. ‘Horses. Gambling. Beautiful women. The trick is not to let them become too strong in your life, I suppose.’
He turned away, speaking. ‘I’ll show you the bedchamber. We have two sleeping rooms on this floor. One is empty and the other is Dane’s, on occasion. Two are on the upper floor—one I use and the other one, which has more of the watery mementos, Ben prefers. I believe he even has part of an old sail stored there. The room smells of stagnant water, in my opinion—though Ben says I imagine it.’
He turned to leave the room, then reversed his movements, facing her. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll go to the British Museum.’
‘What of you seeing your children?’
He looked at her. ‘I’ll have them brought here or I will go there. Soon. I have not fully decided yet.’
She paused, measuring her words carefully. ‘I would like to go to Somerset House. That is the place I sent letters to my father.’
‘It will be no bother.’ He gave the words no inflection, no importance, and turned. Taking her to a bedchamber, he paused at the door. ‘We’ve had to move some of Ben’s collection here. Dane and I keep moving them around to whichever room is unoccupied.’
When she walked inside, Melina saw what she assumed, and hoped, was the most extensive collection of mermaid paintings in the world. The captain did like his mermaids. Or what passed for them.
