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“You need to learn to ask before you take,” he said, in a low, scornful voice. “I do not like men like you. Not one little bit.”
The crew had stopped work, staring at them. Alexander looked up. “Throw him off the side of the ship. We sail without him.”
“No, Captain!” cried the man, staring up at him with wild eyes. “What will I do? How will I get home?”
“Book a passage on the next ship to leave port,” growled Alexander. “I will make sure you have your wages. But you shall not sail on my ship.”
Alexander walked off. He grinned, hearing the loud splash as Needham landed in the water. Good riddance. The man was a low life. He especially did not like men who treated women like that, as if they were just objects, not people at all. Alexander might have his own private policy to love and leave women, but healwaystreated them well and never took liberties without asking.
Needham deserved what he got, and he was lucky he had not been beaten to a pulp by those local men. At least he had saved the man from that.
But his sudden anger had cost Alexander. Needham was gone. The worthless man had cost him two barrels of rum and would no longer be working. Still, Alexander felt good about the whole thing. What he regretted the most was that the incident had lost him his last encounter with the beautiful Rosa.
He sighed, shrugging his shoulders, in a philosophical way. It was time to set sail and leave Spain- and Rosa - behind. That was just life on the sea and he would have it no other way. England, here they come. It was time to return home - for a little while, at least.
They were just about to haul up the plank, ready to set sail, when a male figure dressed in black pushed through the crowd on the dock, rushing towards the ship.
“Wait!” cried the man in black, waving a hand in the air, which clutched a white sheet of paper with a red wax seal. “I have a letter for Captain Fletcher!”
Alexander gazed at the man curiously, before walking down the plank to him. He was a small, neat man, wearing a galleon hat and round spectacles.
“I am Captain Fletcher,” he said slowly. “Who are you?”
The man bowed. “Ignatius Bowen, at your service, Captain. I am an emissary for Merrymen’s Solicitors of London. I handle their affairs in Spain, as well as several other solicitors in England.” He drew a deep breath. “This letter has just arrived, addressed to you. You are most definitely Captain Alexander Fletcher of theMary Elizabeth?”
Alexander stared at him. “I have already said so,” he said, in a dry voice, taking the letter. “Thank you, Mr Bowen.”
The man nodded before walking away. Alexander tucked the letter into his jacket pocket. He would look at it later. Now it was time to set sail. His blood was zinging with impatience. There had already been too many delays as it was.
It was not until they were safely sailing through the waters of the Bay of Bismarck that he remembered the letter in his pocket. He made sure all was in order before entering his cabin, taking out the letter and breaking the seal. The letter was dated two weeks prior.
Captain Fletcher,
I am writing on behalf of my client, His Lordship Reginald Oakley, the Earl of Weaver, who wishes to arrange a time to meet with you most urgently upon your return to England.
As we are unaware of when you will return to England’s shores, I took the liberty of writing to you at the last port your ship was docked at in Spain and trust that you receive it.
On your return to England, could you make your way to our offices on Bond Street for further instructions in the matter at your earliest convenience.
I remain, your humble servant,
Oswald Merryman
Merryman Solicitors
London
Alexander frowned, staring at the letter. This was odd. Very odd indeed. The Earl of Weaver, a man he had never met in his life, wanted to see him urgently. He had never even heard of this earl, whoever he was. And why did an earl have urgent business with him, anyway?
He folded the letter, placing it on his desk, before sitting down. His mind was whirring. Earls were very high up in society—they were practically royalty. Alexander had never mingled in such high circles. He knew nothing about the ton and their exclusive world. He most certainly had no idea why any noble would need to speak to him, or even knew of his existence.
He opened the letter again. Perhaps this Earl of Weaver wanted to do business with him. He owned three successful trading ships that sailed all over the world.
He tossed the letter aside. He might make his way to Merryman Solicitors on Bond Street if he had the chance.
Alexander sighed, standing up, forgetting about the letter entirely. He had a ship to sail, after all.
Chapter 2
