AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She shook her head, believing her denial. “It’s not reckless.”
He stared for a moment before speaking. “Perhaps we should make our way to your not-favorite-part-of-the-ship, the dining saloon.”
“Of course.” She swallowed. “And I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank you. For your kind assistance.”
He helped her up and asked about her ankle. Shaking off her cape and skirts, she reassured him she was no worse for the wear.
Her ankle smarted, and she fought a limp, but she guided him to the dining saloon, hoping to find Elijah there. She made eye contact with Walsh, the sailor covered in blue-and-red India ink tattoos who was finishing the table setting, and he left in search of her brother.
Nicholas's gaze swept the room, taking in the burgundy velvet settees, long walnut tables, mahogany wainscoting, ivory lacquered wall and ceiling panels, and gilt ornamental details.
“It’s as you described—exquisite, the craftsmanship unparalleled.”
She inclined her head, even as the unspoken truth flitted between them. However beautiful, this ornate part of the ship was not truly her favorite.
“You’re aware, doubtlessly, that the dockmaster requires all but one of the crew to disembark and quarter outside the wall.”
He nodded. “Security.”
“We do have some refreshments, though, if you’d like.”
He pulled out his pocket watch and shook his head when he saw the time. “Thank you, but I’ve only half an hour before I have to leave.”
“A visit to my quarters, then down to the hold?” Elijah’s voice boomed from the doorway.
While the two of them explored, Helen sat down and assessed her ankle. She could rotate it; she realized with gratitude it was nothing more than strained.
The two men returned as they had left—Nicholas inquisitive, her brother alert but not tense—and she knew another moment of relief.
She’d cleared away the unused dishes in their absence and removed her cloak. Gazing down at her emerald satin day gown, she wondered if it was worth having taken a tumble.
Nicholas's eyes paused on her upon his return, speechless for a time. When his gaze paused at her hips, color infused his cheeks.
Oh, she knew his type. A cad like all the others. Finally, a category she could place him in. As for the gown, well…it had been worth the trouble after all.
He sat across the table from her, eventually regaining his focus and looking at Elijah. “With all the sails and rigging,Alacritymust require quite a crew. How many?”
“Sixty.”
Nicholas's thick eyebrows lifted. “How many will disappear into London, needing to be replaced before you can sail?”
Elijah’s eyes narrowed.
Helen squeezed her own leg under the table, recognizing her brother’s offense and hoping he could keep his temper in check this time.
He only shrugged. “Little to fear there, Mr. Irons. It’sthiscountry men look to flee. Most of my crew are Liverpool Irish. They left this island once, and they look forward to doing it again.”
Helen barely prevented her eyes from rolling. While generally well-ordered and loyal, his sailors were also a rough-and-ready sort, and Elijah’s plan already assumed that some would fail to report back to the ship.
“You hope.”
Her brother laughed good-naturedly. “I hope. Sailors are sailors. It’s true I could lose some in port. If not to flight, to drink, wenches, or fighting. I’ve already made contacts for new recruits, in case.”
She breathed again, glad for her brother’s sensible enough reply.
Nicholas tapped the table, then stood, his eyes back on her. “I’ll have a decision for you this evening. Call at my offices then? Eight o’clock. Bring your Mincing Lane contract.”
Helen waited until he and Elijah left the saloon before covering her mouth. It seemed too good to be true, but if he wanted to review their purchase agreements, he had to be considering the deal in earnest!
She looked at the clock housed in a gilt scrollwork case, affixed to the sideboard.
Seven hours until we learn our fate.
