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It would be most unwise to visit Fez el-Bali and the Souq—leather bazaar at this time. The plague has reached our borders and has spread throughout the region. Your health would be in jeopardy as many have fallen ill and died. I urge you to reconsider and postpone your inspection until a safer time. I await your response.
~Mr. Jalil Dhabi, overseer of the Chouara Tannery, in a brief note to Mr. Devin Everingham
delivered to the Daunting Duchess a mere hour after she arrived in port
Trinity’s cabin
An hour later
Marriage. To Devin.
Trinity shook her head for at least the hundredth time since Devin had left.
She shouldn’t be considering his preposterous, imprudent proposal.
She shouldn’t.
It was crazy. Impractical. Risky. Impetuous.
Everything she was not.
And yet self-preservation proved a powerful incentive.
Rather than diving straight into Mrs. Peagilly’s satchel after his departure, Trinity bathed, cleansed her teeth, and brushed her hair until it snapped and crackled before securing it in a simple chignon.
All that amid the ship’s increased pitching and gyrating.
They must’ve sailed into quite a powerful gale.
Opting to don her navy-blue gown rather than her night rail, she now sat on the hard, uncomfortable chair. With a shawl draped across her shoulders against the unexpected chill, she rested her chin in her hand and glumly stared at Mrs. Peagilly’s tapestry bag.
So far, none of the removed contents revealed any life-altering or useful information.
Useful to Trinity, that was.
What a conundrum.
Exchange vows with Devin before the ship reached Morocco, thereby assuring herself provision and safety but relinquishing her freedom for a lifetime to a man she barely knew. Or gambling that something remaining in Mrs. Peagilly’s bag contained a miraculous answer to Trinity’s problem.
Not a wagerer, Trinity did not like the odds of either option.
The ship lurched, and she cocked her head, listening.
The seas had roughened to such a degree this past hour that she had bumped her head and hip, staggering around the small space.
Mayhap that is why Devin had not returned.
He had taken ill again.
Should she check on him?
He was nearlyher betrothed.
She certainly was not a giddy, sentimental bride-to-be.
Curling her mouth into a half-grimace, half-sardonic smile, Trinity shook her head.
Circumstances might force her to marry Devin Everingham, but her heart would remain hers if she did. That way, when he grew bored of her, realized he’d made a monumental mistake, or his eye roved, she would not be crushed or devastated.
