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“Exactly!” he crows. “You got yourself out of that thicket, the worse for wear, and marched right back to the house, refusing any offer to ride with me or CeCe.”
Chin up, I sniff.
“I was perfectly fine, no need of assistance.”
“This wound,” he explains, “is nothing compared to the bruising and cuts you received that day. Although, I doubt your night dress will survive.”
The circumstances were vastly different.
“Why us? Why would someone want to hurt us?”
“Me,” he corrects, grim again. “You say the blade was aimed at me.” Rising, he reaches to help me up. “I will take you to Lady Eleanor.”
“You could still be in danger,” I warn, not wanting to leave his side.
“If that’s true, you’d best stay well away from me.” At my frown he promises, “I will be careful.” He ties my wrap and brushes a strand of hair from my face. “If I’m in danger, so are you. I will make arrangements for you to disembark at our next port and return to England.”
“No!” I can’t watch his back if we are separated. “I’ll not be denied the adventures promised.” Let him think me frivolous. This is not new. Everyone considers me frivolous and impetuous. That his life might be in danger changes everything. “I will go with you,” I insist. “CeCe will need me.”
I ignore his narrowed eyes and take his arm. I am wounded, after all. A woman is allowed to be weak when wounded.
But no matter what, I will protect him.
Chapter Three
Lady Eleanor Gets Involved
Thundering footsteps, shouts of ‘overboard’, and I race above board in my nightcap, a wrap flung over my bedclothes. Lord Bentwood is hovering over Lady Bentwood like a protective knight as she waves and shouts to gain my attention.
“Lady Eleanor, over here!”
She’s cradling her other arm — injured? Most likely, given Bentwood’s palpable relief at the sight of me, but I don’t stop. The railing draws me instead, no doubt by something out of order. What? I haven’t the foggiest, but I trust my nose for such things.
The crew are gathered to the aft, searching out to sea. Some wretch has gone overboard. They’ll not find him, or her. The sails have not dropped, and there’s a good breeze. Even if the night were not black as pitch, whoever it was is well behind our wake.
“Thank God you’re here,” Lady Bentwood says when they reach me.
I raise an eyebrow, as she’s not been pleased with my presence on this ship. I don’t take this personally. No doubt rooted in her sharing a cabin with me, rather than her husband. Something I have no power to change as yet.
“There was a scuffle,” Bentwood tells me.
“Was there?” I turn to him. “Then not an accidental fall?” Interesting. “Lord Bentwood, see to the Captain, will you? No doubt, he will be upon us soon, and I’d prefer you delay him as much as possible.”
To give him credit, he barely hesitates before bowing.
“As you wish, Lady Eleanor. I will leave my wife in your care. She’s been injured.”
“Yes, I see that.”
I smile at Lady Bentwood, who starts to ask, “How did you—”
I wave her words away, realising what made me come to the rail.
“When I came above board, before the two of you saw me, both of you were looking here, rather than toward the sailors. You saw something,” — I point to the deck — “possibly evidence. Much as I hope the Captain will allow me to investigate, I doubt my hopes will be met, and I don’t want others trampling my investigative site until I’ve had a good look.”
“He threw a knife at us,” Lady Bentwood explains, tripping over her rush to get the words out. “Or… well, one of them did. I’m not certain who went over.”
Like a butterfly to a collector’s board, I focus on her shoulder.
