“We ought to choose Mr. Townsend,” Miss Templeton-Rath told Libba in a loud whisper. “Since we are next, and he completes a trifecta of knowledge. No one here has seen all the boats he has.”
“Ah, but it is true,” Libba agreed, fluttering her lashes at Jasper. “Come, my hero, you are to join our little militia.”
He sighed, resisting the urge to either massage his temples or snag an entire bottle of port to nurse throughout this ordeal.
“I suppose that means Ayo and Mr. Lem are stuck with me,” Mr. Rath announced, a bit more tartly than Jasper thought strictly necessary, as he shot both of his teammates stern looks. “I’m certain that will only add to the dynamic.”
His daughter frowned but did not respond.
“Excellent!” said their hostess. “Everyone take three slips of paper each and jot down your ship names with the graphitepencils provided. Fold them once and put them in the top hat and we shall commence!”
“They must berealships, Uncle Paul,” Miss Templeton-Rath said suddenly, pointing across the room at the man. “No fanciful creations of your mind.”
“Oh, but how would you know, dear one?” he replied, grinning widely. “You did not accompany me to the far reaches of the globe.”
“Iwill know,” Mr. Templeton-Rath put in, chuckling. “And I agree with my daughter.”
“Fine,” said his brother, shrugging. “But you know I’ve a talent for it. I named both tugs, you know.”
“Yes, we know!” echoed the rest of the family, a final lingering note echoing in the room as everyone was drawn to their slips and forced to come up with something to write down.
Jasper, mercifully, did not struggle with this task. He could likely recitetwentyships with ridiculous names without pausing, should the occasion call for it. It was, perhaps, the one mercy the evening was deciding to show him.
“No peeking!” Libba whispered, bending down over her own slips of paper in such a fashion that the low neckline of her costume gripped against her bust and presented a tantalizing glimpse of what was hidden below.
She glanced up at him as her quill scratched along the paper, right through her darkened, smoky lashes, and smirked.
His own pen stroke jerked to the side, blotting out the name he was writing and forcing him to start again. He didn’t know if he was angry or incredulous or impatient or even a little bit amused with her.
He didn’t know.
And at least that wasn’t one of the charades.
“Your own ship has a strange sort of name,” Libba said, waving her slips to dry in the air and then leaning forward topurse her lips and blow a cool stream over the letters she’d made. “Shade of Port Royal. In my homeland, sailors are quite superstitious. Perhaps it is not the same everywhere.”
“Oh, no, that is universal, my dear,” Mr. Rath told her with a chuckle, glancing up from his own, hand-shielded efforts. “But the doom of Port Royal is a special sort of omen. Honoring it is meant to grant you the protection of the pirates and privateers of old.”
“And,” said Mrs. Templeton-Rath, cutting her eyes to her brother-in-law, “the ship was built in Kingston. Which might be the whole of it.”
“It isn’t,” Miss Templeton-Rath said absently. “They mounted a surfaced galleon under the wheel. The captain showed me.”
“A real galleon?” her father asked, looking intrigued. “Wonder how old it is!”
“Into the hat, if you please!” Mrs. Templeton-Rath said loudly, shaking the top hat, which now contained her three slips. “The night does not grow any younger, my friends, and neither do I.”
“Thank heaven for that,” her husband replied, making her click her tongue and roll her eyes, though color also rose on her very sharp cheeks as he passed her to drop in his own entries. “I almost included the HMSSpanker,” he confided to the room. “But then I realized what pantomiming such a thing might look like, so if anyone else had the impulse, perhaps reconsider, hm?”
Libba laughed openly, shaking her head and grinning up at Mr. Templeton-Rath. “Also because it is too easy, yes?”
Jasper considered balling up his own slips of paper and throwing them at her.
She’d likely just claim that was a Bedouai form of affection and ruin it anyhow.
“I loaded cargo onto theSpankerduring the war,” he said pointedly, getting her attention for long enough to clench his jaw at her. “Usually, the navy isn’t so fanciful.”
“Well, when else but wartime is levity quite so necessary?” Miss Templeton-Rath said, tilting her head to the side. “Though I’m sure the military frowns upon fun.”
“Not so,” Jasper said with a small smile. “There is also the HMSTickler.”
