Page 26 of A Siren for the Duke

Before she even had a chance to respond, he was gone, slamming the door behind him. She sat at the desk, frozen, her cheeks stained with tears. What in God’s name had just happened?

* * *

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, and Jemima barely spoke to Lionel after that second outburst. Quite honestly, that was fine with her. It made the journey go by faster, and it occupied her mind. She wished they could speak in more detail, but it seemed neither was brave enough to broach the subject. Mr. Coade, although gruff, had eventually taken somewhat of a liking to her and was a little more patient with her. She could now chop onions and peel potatoes without cutting herself or causing a mess. She learned which spices to add, how much of each, and what flavors were compatible. He’d even taught her how to bake bread, and she found she liked that best—kneading the dough, thwacking it against the counter with force, then forming it into a perfect loaf or braiding it was calming.

Dinner had ended not long ago. In an effort to be liked by Mr. Coade, she always cleaned up the dishes afterward. It was the least she could do since she suspected she was a nuisance underfoot. The rest of the crew was off on their watch duty, relaxing with music or playing cards and/or getting some much-needed rest.

Finally finished with her cleaning, she hung the apron on the peg near the doorway and followed everyone else’s lead. Lionel didn’t like her to go aboard when everyone else was, but she’d stopped caring. No one had harassed her or made any unsavory remarks toward her. In fact, she felt safer aboard the Regina than she did in the center of a ballroom. Some of the crew eyed her warily as she made her way to the upper deck, but she did not mind it. She needed a little respite, and the air was cooler up here.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue across the restless waters of the open sea. She found a spot at the side of the ship and placed her hands on the smooth wood, breathing in deeply. The Regina bobbed gently on the swells, its rhythmic creaking providing a comforting backdrop to the evening serenade. Before her, the ocean stretched out endlessly, merging with the distant horizon in a display of serene beauty. Its waters were a deep shade of indigo, glimmering with hints of silver as the fading light danced upon their surface. Jemima found solace in this vastness, in the feeling of insignificance that overcame her as she stood at the edge of the ship. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a moment.

The sound of footsteps broke her reverie, and Jemima turned to see Ellis Robinson approaching.

She gave him a curt smile that was a bit more like a grimace than an actual smile, and he chuckled.

“Still upset with me, I presume?”

Jemima scoffed.

“That’s the least you deserve after letting Lionel treat me that way.”

Ellis shrugged, smiling good-naturedly.

“He ordered me not to intervene.”

“And you thought it wise to let him parade me around the ship on his back?”

“It was funny. At the very least, it brought some amusement to the men.”

“Happy to know I am useful aboard ship in some way.”

Just then, she shivered as a gust of wind cut across the deck.

“Here, it’s getting late and cold. It’ll be dark before long. Come back to the galley and have some ale,” Ellis offered.

She wrinkled her nose at the thought. At home, they never had ale, and Ferdinand disdained it. Annoyingly, he’d drink it if gin wasn’t available, but he’d made it known he didn’t care for it.

“My lady, have you ever actually tried ale?”

Feeling a little foolish, she hung her head.

“No.”

“Then you are not in a place to judge it. Come with me,” he said, offering her his arm.

“Why do I feel like you’re some witch, luring me to your lair to poison me?” she asked with a pout.

Ellis laughed aloud.

“I’d make a very poor witch, I assure you. But Lionel, on the other hand…” he let his voice trail off with a wink.

“A most fearsome sea witch indeed,” she said, trying and failing to keep her frown.

Ellis was such a kind and amusing fellow it was difficult to stay angry with him. She looped her arm through the crook of his elbow and let him lead her down to the dining area, not far off from the galley. There weren’t many sailors down there right now, but she could hear laughter and lively conversation. Some were playing cards, and some were smoking pipes with their feet up. Someone was even playing a happy tune on the fiddle.

But as soon as Jemima stepped foot into the room, a hush fell over the crowd. They all turned to look at her. It was wildly uncomfortable, but she lifted her chin, smiled coolly, and followed Ellis to the barrel that held the ale. He grabbed two pewter mugs with handles and unplugged the stopper on the barrel, letting the amber liquid flow until each mug was full. Then, he gave one to her and found an empty table. It was still unnaturally quiet, but the men had begun to whisper or talk in hushed tones.

“Try it,” Ellis said, nodding toward the mug.