Page 41 of A Siren for the Duke

“I am only being realistic,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “After all, we have already established your lackluster skills in the culinary arts.”

“They’ve gotten better!” she protested.

The conversation (or rather, bickering) might have continued, but a sailor shouted, “Land ho!” from the crow’s nest.

Jemima immediately whipped her head around to look, but her eyes did not see anything on the horizon. Lionel took out his spyglass and handed it to her. She extended it and put it to her eye, shocked to see that there was indeed a sliver of green in the distance. How the sailor in the crow’s nest had seen that, she was not sure, as she could barely tell it was there in the spyglass.

“We’re far away, aren’t we?” she asked, handing the spyglass back to Lionel and looking up at him.

“It looks far away, to be sure. But I suspect we will make port a little after noon, if not earlier.”

“I ought to go and ready myself, then,” she murmured.

“Indeed,” Lionel said quietly, with none of the mirth he’d shown a few minutes earlier. “I shall send Ellis to fetch you when we dock.”

She nodded and without another word, descended back to the small cabin that had slowly become her home over the past few weeks. Once inside, she flopped back onto the bed most ungracefully.

Was she truly ready to disembark and start an entirely new life? And moreover... could she really say goodbye to Lionel a second time?

* * *

Usually, Lionel was glad to disembark after a long journey and stretch his legs a little. But as the crew tethered the ship to the dock and began to unload the cargo, he felt as though his heart were sinking to the bottoms of his feet. This was the most time he’d spent with Jemima in one time period. Although it had been difficult at first, he did not want to let her go. What was worse, when he returned to England, he would likely never sail again. The thought made his stomach turn. He would truly be trapped.

Before he could sink even lower into despair, Ellis appeared beside him with a stack of letters.

“The clipper arrived a few days ago with the post. All for you,” he said, handing Lionel the thick packet of parchment.

“Goodness,” was all Lionel could say upon seeing it. He thumbed through the papers—the admiral, a couple from his father, one from Ferdinand Upton (he would read that one in private so he could respond immediately), and one from the English ambassador to Jamaica, Harold Sherwood. Not wanting to ruin the day any further, he decided to open that one. As his eyes scanned the parchment, a faint smile played upon his lips.

“Have you received good news?” came Jemima’s voice from behind him.

Lionel and Ellis turned around quickly as if they had been caught red-handed at something they should not have been doing. He might have spoken, but the sight of her took his breath away. She looked beautiful. When she’d been working aboard ship she had had her hair braided into a simple bun and wore her white or brown day gowns. But now, her hair was carefully coiffed, her skin looked brighter, her lips pinker, and she wore a pretty light blue day dress with a white sash and white gloves. It was as if she’d never stepped foot out of England.

“Uh... indeed. Ambassador Sherwood has invited us to a ball at his home to welcome us. I mentioned in a letter that a young lady was travelling over on the ship to the island to live with an aunt.”

“Oh! Splendid. Except... I have nothing to wear…”. Lionel had never heard her talk like this about balls and fashion with interest, and he was a little confused how he should respond.

“Right. Well. You ought to gather your things as soon as possible. When all the cargo is unloaded, we’ll truly disembark and inquire about your aunt’s whereabouts. Until then, I don’t think the Sherwoods will mind us staying with them.”

Ellis excused himself to oversee the offloading of some of the more delicate cargo. This left Lionel and Jemima at the edge of the ship as they looked onto the docks of Port Royal. He found his fingers reaching for hers, and when they touched, she looked up at him and smiled, intertwining her fingers with his.

At that moment, Lionel realized that although he had cursed her name and blamed her for his unhappiness for the past two years, he had never really stopped loving her.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jemima peered out the carriage window, her eyes widening in wonder as she took in the sights, smells, and senses around her. The air was thick with humidity, and the tropical sun cast a golden glow upon everything it touched. As the carriage made its way through the bustling streets of Port Royal, Jemima couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration. The vibrant colors of the Caribbean greeted her at every turn, and the lush greenery of the tropical landscape seemed to burst forth with life.

Her gaze shifted from the carriage window to the vibrant marketplace that sprawled alongside the road. It was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds as locals went about their daily activities. Men and women carried baskets filled with an array of tropical fruits, their vivid hues tantalizing to the eye. Mangos, pineapples, and papayas displayed their golden and orange skins, while coconuts, with their hairy shells, offered a refreshing respite from the heat.

Jemima watched as women dressed in vibrant, flowing garments moved gracefully through the market. Their dresses, adorned with intricate patterns and bold colors, mirrored the liveliness of the surroundings. Rich reds, deep blues, and vibrant yellows intermingled with the greens and oranges of the fruits and vegetables, creating a stunning tapestry of hues. Amongst the crowd, vendors displayed their crafts with pride. Stalls were filled with vibrant tapestries, handwoven baskets, and intricately carved wooden sculptures. Jemima's eyes were drawn to the shimmering silver jewelry on display, reflecting the sunlight like tiny stars. She longed to reach out and touch the delicate fabrics, to feel the roughness of the woven baskets beneath her fingertips.

As the carriage continued its journey towards the English ambassador's house Jemima couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the beauty and liveliness of Port Royal. The richness of the culture, the vibrant colors, and the sensory symphony of the market had enveloped her completely. She thought she’d seen all the beauty Jamaica had to offer in that little slice—until they reached the ambassador’s home. Jemima's heart skipped a beat as the carriage came to a halt, and she eagerly stepped out onto the cobblestone driveway. She was greeted by the sweet scent of exotic flowers that permeated the air, wrapping her senses in their intoxicating fragrance.

Before her stood a magnificent house, a testament to grandeur and elegance. Its creamy white facade gleamed in the sunlight, contrasting beautifully with the surrounding emerald foliage. Tall, slender palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, their fronds whispering secrets to the heavens. Bougainvillea climbed up the walls, its fiery blossoms like flickering flames against the ivory canvas of the house.

Her eyes traced the intricate architectural details adorning the structure. Elaborate balconies graced the upper floors, their ornate ironwork resembling delicate lacework. Large, arched windows were decorated with billowing curtains, allowing glimpses of the opulence within. Passing through the threshold, Jemima found herself in a world of elegance and splendor. The interior was adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes from faraway lands, and intricately carved wooden furniture spoke of a bygone era. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the opulent surroundings.

Her gaze wandered to the lush, tropical gardens visible through the open French doors. A riot of colors greeted her as hibiscus blossoms in vibrant shades of red, orange, and pink danced in the gentle breeze. Towering banana trees swayed gracefully, their broad leaves rustling in harmony. The intoxicating scent of jasmine mingled with the salty sea air, creating a sensory symphony that enchanted her soul.