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“Lord Devin,” he continued, “If you will forgive my admonishment, no gently-bred young lady should find herself in proximity to the male sex in a chamber containing a bed, as this cell does. I have always protected Miss Tyron from becoming a scandal or blemishing her family name.”

Livie stole a glance at Lord Devin as he bowed once again, his face expressionless. “This experience shall better inform me hereafter. I apologize to Miss Tyron and to yourself.”

After a tense moment, Livie’s father nodded. “We will have tea.” He pulled a cord to the side of the desk. “This establishment is not as well-run as the Royal Oak, is it, Mr. Cassio? You know my daughter, Miss Tyron. Lord Devin, may I introduce Gerald Cassio, my first mate.”

Mr. Cassio was a short man, with round, shiny eyes like a blackbird’s. He stepped forward and bowed low before Lord Devin, then turned to Livie. She nodded, and he smirked, his eyes lingering on her bosom.

“Mr. Cassio, go to the kitchens, if you would, and remind them of their duties,” the captain said, waving his hand.

Once his first mate had left the chamber, Captain Sir Tyron escorted Livie and Lord Devin to a group of comfortable chairs before the fireplace. “You’ll forgive me for having the fire lit on such a lovely afternoon, but the walls are damp.”

“Of course,” Lord Devin said, seating himself.

“Where is your maid?” the captain demanded suddenly, turning to Livie.

“Outside,” Lord Devin said. “I counseled that Miss Tyron leave her maid, as the woman would not be approved for entry to your chamber. If you are concerned about chaperonage, Captain Sir Tyron, I assure you that I consider myself an uncle to your daughter.”

“I had forgotten the list,” her father said, his face easing. “You may think me strict, Lord Devin, but in women I demand discretion, silence, and modesty above all.”

He was still holding forth on that subject when Mr. Cassio reentered the room followed by a servant holding a tea tray. Mr. Cassio snuck another look at Livie and moved as if to seat himself in a chair beside her, but the captain abruptly sent him away before he could join them.

“I shan’t have Mr. Cassio join us for tea, due to Miss Tyron’s presence and the nature of this room,” Captain Sir Tyron said, glancing at the bed before turning his attention back to Lord Devin. “You might wish to chat with him at some point. He was a member of the shore expedition on that fateful night.”

Lord Devin put down his teacup with a sharp click. “I thought there were only five men in the boat, all of whom we have questioned.”

“Mr. Cassio was there as well. I personally vouched for him, so he hasn’t been investigated in our search for the true traitor,” her father said. “I’ve known him since he was a lad, and he’s been under my command throughout his naval career. I have nurtured him with the same attention to moral precepts as I have my daughter. I consider him to be the zenith of my labors: He is a dutiful soldier and a good man—loyal and upright.”

He sipped his tea and then added, “Mr. Cassio is the son I was never fortunate enough to have. Of late, I have considered a match between Miss Tyron and Mr. Cassio.”

Livie choked.

“Her status and dowry will improve his condition in life. My hope is that someday he will command the Royal Oak, as my son might have.”

Livie winced at the tinge of bitterness in her father’s voice. She’d known all her life that the captain would have preferred a son, but generally he wasn’t so emphatic.

“I am certain Miss Tyron will have her choice of suitors,” Lord Devin said. “Am I to understand that you separated from Mr. Cassio once ashore in France?”

“As I have said—I know not how many times—our landing on the beach was disorderly, since we were instantly set upon by enemy forces awaiting our arrival. I found myself alone in the dark, fighting adversaries whose faces were muffled in black scarves. The battle led away from the shore, and my men and I did not reunite until after the sun rose.”

Livie’s eyes widened, and she straightened. Surely no one had better access to a captain’s seal than his first mate. Without thinking, she opened her mouth, but Lord Devin shot her a warning glance. She stilled, folding her hands in her lap.

“I have questioned Mr. Cassio about that night myself,” her father continued. “My inquiry leads me to believe that he has no more information beyond that which I’ve already given you. Regardless, I would encourage you to conduct your own review of his account. Your questions might reveal some overlooked detail.”

“I shall speak to him,” Lord Devin said.

“He is my right hand,” Captain Sir Tyron said, pride resonant in his voice. It was a tone Livie seldom heard from her father, and certainly one that had never been directed at her.

Lord Devin began explaining the trial that the Lord High Steward, Lord Paget, would conduct in the House. Livie listened quietly, watching her father. The captain was much the same as usual, not that she saw him often; he routinely spent a year or even longer at sea; the Royal Oak hadn’t been in England for many months. Despite his circumstances—the looming trial, the imprisonment—he didn’t appear worn down by care.

“I approve of Lord Paget,” her father declared. “He fought like a true Englishman in the Battle of Waterloo last year.”

As the conversation continued, Livie realized that Lord Devin was taking the trial more seriously than her father. Captain Sir Tyron seemed entirely convinced that there was no possible outcome in which his name would not be cleared and his command fully restored. Despite the burden of proof resting on the defense’s shoulders, he expressed no concern about his fate.

Nor, she had to acknowledge, was he concerned about her fate, since he was considering marrying her to Mr. Cassio. She swallowed hard at that idea. His first mate combed his hair over to the top of his head to disguise a glaring patch of baldness.

His shiny black eyes had boldly scoured her body, quite likely because her father had made him aware of the possibility of marrying his daughter. Now that she thought about it, in the last two or three years, the captain had been interspersing references to Mr. Cassio amidst his usual admonishments. This proposed marriage had been in his mind for some time.

The thought made her feel as bitterly cold as the tea left in her cup.