Page 22 of A Siren for the Duke

He took the onion from her and sliced through it effortlessly, the blade gliding through the layers as if it were cutting air. Jemima watched, feeling both envious and inadequate.

"Try again," Mr. Coade said, handing her the knife. "But this time, hold it steady and keep your eyes on the blade. No distractions."

Jemima nodded, determined to get it right. She gripped the onion tightly and focused intently on the knife. With slow, deliberate movements, she began to chop, her concentration so intense that she didn't notice Mr. Coade watching her with a mixture of surprise and pride.

"Look at that," he said, a gruffness in his voice that Jemima recognized as genuine praise. "You're getting the hang of it, lass. Not bad for a fine lady."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Jemima's lips as she continued to chop the onions, gaining confidence with each slice. She was still far from being a skilled cook, but perhaps, with time and practice, she could prove to herself, and Lionel especially, that she was capable of more.

As the afternoon wore on, Jemima and Mr. Coade worked side by side in the galley, a makeshift partnership born out of necessity. He continued to guide her, his gruff exterior occasionally softened by words of encouragement. And though her attempts often fell short, Jemima persevered. She would not let Lionel have the last laugh.

* * *

Across the ship, back in his sparse cabin, Lionel was having a less than wonderful time. Amidst his scarce moments of leisure, he had decided to finally open the chest containing the Hunt family financials.

The candlelight flickered on the wall, the shadow of the flame dancing against the wood. He could not make heads or tails of what these said, and the numbers began to swim before his eyes like minnows. All he could really discern was that Horace had spent an exorbitant amount on superfluous items and had a terrible gambling habit. Why hadn’t his father said anything this whole time if he’d been aware? It was all very perplexing, and he wished Horace were alive so he could shake him senseless.

“Bloody hell, Horace,” he murmured. In a sudden burst of frustration, he hurled his teacup across the small room, where it shattered against the wooden wall.

Ellis chose exactly that time to enter the room and regarded the scene with a raised eyebrow.

“Everything alright, Captain?” he asked, regarding him as if he were a wild animal who might try to bite him.

“I’ve had better days,” Lionel said bitterly.

“Right. Well, dinner will be served shortly.”

“I’ll be down in a moment.”

But Ellis did not leave immediately. Instead, Lionel looked up to see his first mate looking at him with a quizzical expression.

“You seem... agitated.”

Lionel heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, pushing back from his desk. The weight of this burden was growing to be too much for him, and he needed to offload some of it.

“I am. Ellis, I’m about to share something deeply personal with you. I have faith in your integrity, that you will keep this in strict confidence."

Ellis nodded solemnly and sat on the edge of the small bed.

“You can trust me, Lionel.”

Lionel nodded. He knew he could count on Ellis, but he felt a little silly and even a little guilty telling him about family troubles.

“When we were ashore, in Portsmouth... it wasn’t just for supplies and new orders from the admiral.”

“You mentioned you had a family situation to deal with” Ellis said, cocking his head.

“Yes,” Lionel confirmed between sighs. “My elder brother Horace passed away suddenly.”

"Oh!" Ellis gasped, his voice laden with genuine shock and sympathy. "I... I am truly sorry, Lionel. Please accept my deepest condolences. I know you were going through something difficult but I had no idea…"

Lionel waved a dismissive hand.

“It’s alright. He could be such an arse sometimes. Always sniveling to Father, trying to get in his good graces. But his death means the dukedom will eventually fall to me when my father passes. He is in poor health and had already entrusted Horace with much of the responsibilities.”

“I see,” Ellis said calmly.

“Something else... my father wishes to pass it to me while he still lives so that it will not be a mad scramble when he goes.”