Page 45 of A Siren for the Duke

"Oh, believe me, my boy, I understand more than you know. I, too, was once a hot-blooded young man, driven by passion and folly."

Lionel's eyes widened in surprise, a mix of relief and curiosity flooding his senses. He had never expected the esteemed ambassador to be so understanding, so human.

"Many years ago, I served in the Royal Navy myself. There were adventures aplenty, and I, too, found myself entangled in affairs of the heart."

Lionel's fear began to subside, replaced by a growing sense of camaraderie with the older man. He straightened his posture, his voice regaining its confidence.

"Sir, I apologize if my actions have caused any inconvenience or embarrassment. It was never my intention."

Mr. Sherwood placed a hand on Lionel's shoulder, the gesture both comforting and paternal.

"No need for apologies, my boy. Youthful passions can sometimes lead us astray. I remember it well."

He glanced towards his office, a few steps away from the garden, and motioned for Lionel to join him.

"Come, let's retire to a more private setting. I believe we have matters of business to discuss."

Curiosity piqued, Lionel followed Mr. Sherwood, his mind racing with questions and anticipation. As they settled into the ambassador's office, surrounded by shelves of books and maps, Mr. Sherwood began regaling Lionel with stories of his days in the Royal Navy during the American War of Independence.

With each tale, the room seemed to transform into a grand ship, sails billowing and waves crashing against the hull. Lionel could almost taste the salty sea air as Mr. Sherwood described naval battles, daring escapes, and the camaraderie shared among sailors.

“I did not know of your past. I might have sent a letter of introduction earlier if I had,” Lionel said after Mr. Sherwood finished one of his stories.

“How else do you think I got this post?” Mr. Sherwood asked cheekily.

“Social standing, like all the others,” Lionel said flatly. And it was true—sometimes second sons could buy their way into Parliament and matters of the State. Even if they had no political savvy or knowledge of the land, they could opt out of military service or the clergy and become ambassadors. The idea had once appealed to Lionel before he settled on the Navy, but he was not arrogant enough to assume that he could broker international deals in a country he’d never visited before.

Mr. Sherwood laughed heartily at Lionel’s response.

“I appreciate your candor, Captain! Hardly anyone sees fit to tell me the truth—they all seek to flatter me.”

“I only believe in flattering women. And even then, I do so with as little fuss as possible.”

“An honest man, I like it. Now,” Mr. Sherwood leaned forward as if he were about to divulge some very serious information. Lionel followed his lead. “This ball that the Mrs. and I are hosting tonight—it is for fun, mostly.”

“Mostly?” Lionel asked, perking up a bit more.

“Indeed. Have you ever heard of a Mr. Gervase Dartmouth?”

Lionel frowned involuntarily. Yes, he had heard of the man—or scoundrel, rather.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Lionel growled.

“Ah, so we share sentiments about the fellow, then. Nasty man. Slimy,” Mr. Sherwood declared, “but he is here in Port Royal. I have long been trying to catch him at smuggling, but he always wriggles out of my grasp like a fish.”

“What would you like me to do, Sir?” Lionel asked, his voice even and firm, like when he was giving orders or trying to remain calm before a battle.

“I have invited him here to see if I can ferret out some admittance of smuggling from him. It will help to have a Royal Navy presence, as we can hold a military tribunal to judge his actions. As ambassador, all I can do is fine and report him, and of course... we all know how that has ended in the past.”

Lionel grunted in agreement. Mr. Dartmouth was a wealthy man born into a lower-ranking family. As a third son, he decided to go into the shipping business. His particular merchant business was engaged in large-scale smuggling, even in enslaved Africans, when Parliament had banned slavery two years prior. The idea that someone could buy and sell humans as if they were no more than dry goods made Lionel’s blood boil. To this day, he had not been caught—he suspected there was much bribery involved in keeping him out of the Old Bailey.

“Wherever he goes, trouble follows,” Lionel pointed out.

“I know. Which is why we must capture him somehow. Your pretty companion might be of use. She could talk to him; get him to confess things we official men cannot.”

“No,” Lionel said firmly. “She has been through enough danger. I cannot put her through more.”

Mr. Sherwood shrugged.