Page 32 of A Siren for the Duke

“Good. I don’t like the smell of ale on you,” he said with a grin.

She feigned a smile. Why wasn’t he acknowledging it? Had she done something else last night, something more unsavory that she could not remember? And if so... why was he keeping it from her?

“Well, that’s one thing on which we can agree. I uh… I’ll go back to the kitchen now.”

She curtsied awkwardly as a goodbye, then rushed out the door, taking deep breaths to keep tears from forming and falling.

What game was he playing?

* * *

Lionel sighed heavily as he watched Ellis rummage through the contents of the trunk in his cabin. The air was thick with the musty scent of old books and memories long forgotten. He had received the case just before their departure, sent by his late father, and had gone through some of it, but without assistance, he would never get through it all.

That’s why he’d called Ellis for help, but Ellis was proving maddeningly unhelpful.

“Horace was a member at White’s in London?” the first mate asked, looking over a stack of papers.

“Yes. Claimed it was the only place for a civilized gentleman.”

“Why don’t you have a White’s membership?”

“Do I look like a civilized gentleman to you?” he asked, looking at Ellis with exasperation.

“Perhaps not, but I would not venture to call half the ton civilized.”

“Fair point,” Lionel said, raising an eyebrow.

Ellis placed the stack of papers back in the trunk. Lionel watched as his eyes then fell upon a worn leather journal. He picked it up, flipping through the yellowed pages.

"What's this, Captain? Your father's journal?"

Lionel's voice grew somber.

"Yes, it is. My father was a great man of letters, and that journal holds his memories and experiences. But it's not something I'm ready to share."

Ellis nodded understandingly, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Fair enough. Speaking of memories, what about Jemima? I've noticed the way you two look at each other. Are you going to tell me the story there?"

Lionel's irritation flared.

"Ellis, we have more important matters at hand than my romantic past. Jemima is a stowaway, and that is all."

Ellis grinned knowingly.

"So there is a story past.”

Lionel clenched his fists, his patience running thin.

"Enough, Ellis! Focus on the task at hand."

Ellis shrugged, undeterred. "Fine, fine. But don't think I won't keep digging. Secrets have a way of surfacing, you know."

Lionel's jaw tightened. He had always admired Ellis's relentless curiosity, but now it grated on his nerves. He turned his attention back to the trunk, hoping to divert the conversation.

Inside, he found a bundle of letters tied together with a faded blue ribbon. The handwriting was delicate and familiar. Lionel's heart skipped a beat. They were letters from Jemima, their corners frayed with time and longing.

Ellis noticed the change in Lionel's demeanor and perked up.