Page 128 of Valour

“You’re a very whiney bridesmaid.”

Bridesmaid, indeed. “Best woman.”

Charlotte snorted a laugh. “Fine, best woman.”

“Because I am the best woman.”

“Of course you are.” Charlotte was grinning. Hester couldn’t fathom why.

“Do you know who doesn’t think I’m the best woman, though?”

“Go on.”

“Septimus’s mother.” The old bag was perfectly vile.

Charlotte’s mouth curved into a smile. “She doesn’t approve of the match?”

“I heard her screeching at him yesterday morning. That I am not the fine lady she had wanted for her darling boy. She’s also spitting feathers that not only did I win the Valour from her cur of a brother, but that I left her at the bottom of the Weddell Sea.”

“The same can only be said for her son. He also left his ship at the bottom of the sea.”

“Oh but you see, she says that was all my fault. That it wouldn’t have happened had I not been there.” Hester paused. Actually, it probably wouldn’t have. Maybe the woman had a point.

“Well, does Septimus pay any heed to what she thinks?”

“Happily, no. He is still desperately in love with me.” Although he was yet to propose. Not that she cared. She definitely didn’t care. Not as she gazed at Charlotte’s beautiful golden gown, the engagement ring sparkling on her finger, the wedding slippers, the way her hair was coiled and arranged neatly up on her head, the pretty pearl bracelet she wore. She didn’t need any of that. It was frivolous nonsense.

And yet…

It wasn’t like he hadn’t had plenty of opportunity to get down on one knee. The last night of the voyage back to Britain, when the sunset blazed and it was only the two of them on deck. The fancy dinner he’d taken her to last night, with the wine list and the nine courses of tiny plates. The quiet mornings lazing in bed in a post-coital haze, with the light streaming through the French doors of the bedroom, when she knew she looked divine. He could have asked her any time. What on Earth was he waiting for? She chewed the inside of her lip and hoped he wasn’t waiting for his mother’s approval. Fliss had said she should ask him herself, but Hester wouldn’t stand for that.

“Whatever are you brooding about, with that scowl on your face?” Charlotte asked, with one final pull of the corset that had Hester’s breath rushing out of her.

Hester studied her ring finger, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

“Ah. He’ll ask. I know he will. Perhaps he is saving for a ring?”

“Are you joking? He has more money than he knows what to do with.” It had been eye opening, seeing him buy things without counting out the coins, and showering her with gifts.

“Well, is there really any hurry?”

“No, it is more the principle of the thing. Anyway. He can ask me, or he can find someone else to warm his bed. And he will find no one so skilled in that arena as I.” She was damn sure of that.

“Speaking of which…” Charlotte clasped her hands before her, in that way Hester had learnt meant she was nervous. “Tonight. I…Well. I hardly know how to ask⁠—”

Finally. Charlotte was finally asking her. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “I thought you would never ask! The wedding night.” Hester hopped from one foot to the other, clapping her hands. She led Charlotte over to the edge of the bed and sat her down. “Now, listen very carefully, Charlotte.”

There was a knock on the bedroom door, and Alma appeared, her cheeks redder than usual. “There’s someone here for you, she says—” Alma was pushed aside, and a tall, curvy figure barged into the room, red hair spilling everywhere, eye patch over one eye, the kelp fronds of her dress swaying.

“My loves! You’re about to discuss the wedding night. Come, that is my specialist subject. I shall tell you everything.” Odette stalked over and lay on the bed, beckoning Hester and Charlotte closer.

Hester gaped at the siren. How dare she show up after all this time and steal her thunder?!

Charlotte could hardly believe what Hester and Odette had told her an hour ago in the bedroom. She wasn’t totally without knowledge on the subject of sex. Her mother had given her some very vague details before her marriage to Ernie, and she knew the basics from romance novels, but what Hester and the siren had told her had made her blood hot. Her fingers trembled as she pushed the stems of white roses into her hair.

“Do you need some help with the veil?” Fliss asked, plucking it from the bed. “It’s almost time to leave.”

Charlotte snapped out of the daze she was in. “Yes. Thank you.”