Page 43

CHAPTER 13

"...and the said vessel shall be provisioned for a crew of no fewer than eighteen hands, with stores sufficient for a voyage of fourteen weeks, including salt provisions, hard biscuit, fresh water casks, and such medicinal supplies as the charterer shall deem necessary for the eastern Mediterranean route."

Mr. Vance turned the parchment page. His wire-rimmed spectacles caught the morning sunlight filtering through the tall windows as he continued reading in the flat, efficient cadence he reserved for legal instruments.

"The charterer, His Grace the Duke of Ravensmere, shall assume full liability for any damages incurred to the vessel whilst engaged in coastal survey operations along the Lycian shore, including but not limited to reef strikes, grounding, or acts of piracy⁠—"

"Acts of piracy—" Julian repeated. "Is that standard language for a charter-party contract?"

"It is entirely standard for the Levant route, Your Grace," Mr. Vance replied without looking up from the document. "The Mediterranean insurance underwriters insist upon the clause."

"Then leave it as written." Julian drew the Ottoman permit closer across the mahogany table. The heavy paper bore the Sultan's tuğra stamped in faded red wax. "Mr. Aldwick, do you possess the revised supply manifests?"

Mr. Aldwick leaned forward, spreading three handwritten sheets across the table as his spectacles slid down his nose. "Updated this morning, Your Grace. Forty cases of preserved botanical specimens, twelve cases of mounting paper, six cases of field journals and drawing materials. The chemical kit has been reduced to two cases per your instruction, while the barometer and sextant chests remain unchanged."

"And the botanical pressing frames?"

"Three heavy presses, as requested." Mr. Aldwick tapped the manifest with an ink-stained finger. "Though I ought to note that the total weight exceeds the initial estimate by nearly two stone. The extra paper ordered from Smyrna arrived in greater volume than⁠—"

"Keep the surplus," Julian instructed smoothly.

Mr. Aldwick blinked behind his lenses. "Your Grace?"

"Surplus paper is never wasted in the field. Should we run short during survey work, we cannot send a messenger to London for more." Julian set the Turkish permit aside and pulled the detailed map of the Lycian coastline toward him. The topography was densely drawn, contour lines crowding where the coastal mountain ranges met the sea, with the ancient ruins of Xanthos marked in red ink near the lower margin. "The estate accounts, steward? What of provisions during my absence?"

The chief estate steward, a steady man with silvering temples who had managed Ravensmere House for two decades, consulted his leather ledger. "The household accounts are settled through Michaelmas, Your Grace. Tenant rents are collected, and the conservatory construction fund has been released in full, now that the trustees have formally registered their approval."

"The trustees have signed the release," Julian observed, his tone measured and declarative.

"Signed and sealed three days ago, Your Grace. The endowment is entirely secure, allowing the museum and conservatory projects to proceed without legal impediment."

Julian's hand stilled over the coastal chart. Three days ago. He had been married for three weeks now; the board of trustees had reviewed the executed marriage settlement, confirmed Adelaide's appointment as co-governor of the trust, and released the capital without further objection. The expedition was no longer contingent upon legal disputes; it was proceeding as planned. In less than two months' time, he would board a vessel bound for the Mediterranean, leaving Thomas's legacy secure under Adelaide's governance.

"Very good," Julian said. "That completes the business for you and Mr. Aldwick. I require a private word with Mr. Vance."

The steward rose, offered a formal bow, and exited the room. Mr. Aldwick gathered his manifests, placed them into a leather portfolio, and followed. The heavy oak door closed behind them.

Julian reached for his coffee cup, finding the brew had gone cold.

Before he could set it down, the door opened once more.

"Forgive the intrusion."

Adelaide stood in the doorway holding a sheaf of notes in one hand and a pressed botanical specimen mounted between glass in the other. Her chestnut hair was pinned loosely, several stray strands escaping their pins as they invariably did by midmorning. She wore a simple day dress of slate-blue wool, a faint smudge of ink marking her right cuff.

Lifting the handwritten sheets, she offered a clear, confident smile. "I have completed the cross-references for the Lycian botanical records, comparing the Ottoman plant lists against your 1819 survey notes."

"And what did you discover?" Julian asked.

"You recorded the wrong juniper species once again."

Julian set down his coffee cup. "I made no error regarding the juniper."

"You should take a look at this." She crossed the carpet and placed the annotated sheets on the table beside the Ottoman permits. "I have noted the corrections in the margins. You may debate the taxonomy with me later, when you are not engaged with your solicitor."

Turning toward the table, she offered a polite nod. "Good morning, Mr. Vance."

"Your Grace," Mr. Vance rose and bowed deferentially.