Forgetting the Scot (Highlanders of Balforss) Page 18

  Mr. Peter opened the portal door with a sweeping bow, inviting her in. “Good morning, Your Ladyship.”

  Chairs scraped as she entered. The men stood while Mr. Peter circled the table to hold out her chair. Once she was seated, the men settled in. Alex and Captain Sinclair sat at opposite ends of the table. Mr. Peter sat on Captain Sinclair’s right and Mr. Purdie to his left. She and Magnus sat across from one another.

  Alex noticed her regarding the empty chair next to him. “I’ve left Lucy to sleep. I’ll bring her breakfast later.”

  “And Mr. Snowdon?” Virginia asked. She was anxious to know if the man had any other knowledge to share with her.

  “Still abed,” Mr. Peter said. “The sea doesnae agree with him.”

  Poor Mr. Snowdon.

  “Who’s Mr. Snowdon?” Magnus asked.

  Mr. Peter filled him in on Snowdon’s credentials while he heaped his plate with bread, sausages, and black pudding.

  Magnus dished a ladle full of sticky cooked oats into a bowl and set it in front of Virginia.

  “It’s better with salt,” he said and nudged the cellar in her direction.

  “Thank you.” They exchanged a smile and a look that made her warm all over.

  The men continued eating in silence. She saw Captain Sinclair and Alex exchange furtive looks. Occasionally, they would send a look Magnus’s way, and he would scowl back at them. Mr. Peter and Mr. Purdie seemed oblivious to the tension. At last, Virginia could no longer stand the sound of spoons scraping the bottoms of wooden bowls.

  “We’re very fortunate to have calm seas. Do you expect this good weather to hold, Mr. Purdie?”

  Mr. Purdie’s head popped up. “Eh? Oh.” He adjusted his elbows on the table and consulted his bowl for the answer. “Pr’aps,” he said, and went back to eating.

  Virginia searched for another safe topic of conversation. “Mr. Peter, I’m interested to know what your duties are as quarter master.”

  He sat up straight. “I’m in charge of the crew, unless we’re attacked by enemy forces. Then the captain has full command. But I assign duties and settle grievances. I stand next to the helmsman and make sure we stay on course, too.”

  “That’s a big responsibility.” Virginia didn’t want to point out the fact that, with the exception of Jemma, Peter was the youngest person aboard this ship. “Do you ever have difficulty with crew members following your direction?”

  “I’m the purser, as well. If they dinnae listen to me, they dinnae get paid.”

  The table erupted in laughter. Captain Sinclair slapped Peter on the back. The boy seemed to know they weren’t laughing at him, but rather at his particular view on authority. She welcomed the break in tension.

  When the laughter died down, Magnus asked Peter, “What duties will you assign me, sir?”

  “As a shareholder, you’ll dine with the captain and sleep in a cabin below deck. But as you’re no’ a paying passenger, you’ll have to work for your packet.” Peter turned to his captain. “What do you think, swabbie or cabin boy?”

  Another burst of laughter, this time at Magnus’s expense. It seemed young Peter could hold his own with these men.

  “Aye. Magnus would make a pretty cabin boy,” Captain Sinclair said. “But I’ll put his back to good use as ship’s mate.”

  Alex rose from the table. While collecting a decanter of whisky and cups from a cabinet, he said, “Peter, in these last months since we took the ship, I ken you’ve become a man of courage, honor, and ability. I’m proud of you.” He filled the glasses and passed them around the table. “And, as it’s never too early or too late for whisky, I propose a toast. Raise your cups to our brother, Peter, and the Sinclairs of Balforss.”

  The men stood and lifted their cups in a chorus of, “Slainte.”

  Peter turned crimson and lowered his head. Captain Sinclair said something to the boy no one else could hear. Whatever he said made Peter smile, but she didn’t miss the quick swipe the boy gave his eyes with his coat sleeve.

  She had witnessed Peter’s initiation to manhood, an important moment in any boy’s life. But for Peter, a street urchin Alex had rescued from starvation four years ago, his was a meteoric rise to quarter master, and an unprecedented welcome into the Sinclair fraternity, the rare and remarkable men of Balforss.

  Lucy had explained that, like Virginia, Alex had a soft spot in his heart for orphaned children. He’d brought Peter home and had given him food, shelter, and a job in the stables. When Peter had been quarantined with mumps, Lucy had kept him entertained by teaching him to read and write. She’d also taught him the manners of a gentleman, which he knew to use to great effect.

  To Virginia, Peter was proof that, given a chance, foundling children could become men and women of character, proof that the home she and Mrs. Pennyweather would build for foundlings was worth the endeavor. Together, they would raise an army of boys and girls of integrity and courage.

  …

  Ian and Peter weren’t joking when they said they would put Magnus’s back to good use. By the end of his four-hour watch, he staggered to his berth, folded his body into the small pallet, and closed his eyes. Even the retching sounds from the man in the next cabin didn’t keep him awake. As he drifted off, he made a mental note that he should have a word with this Snowdon fellow. There was always the possibility that he, too, could pose a danger to Virginia. An instant later, Peter woke him for his next watch. He had slept for four hours without moving.

  As ship’s mate, his duties included hoisting the sails, oiling the masts, and pumping the bilge, among other things. The work was nonstop, essential, and often dangerous, but the four hours were filled with strenuous chores and they went by fast. At the end of his second watch, Magnus leaned against the railing and watched the sun hover over the west. He sensed a presence at his elbow.

  The wind whipped at her gown and plastered the thin material against her body like a second skin outlining long, lean legs and the point where the two joined. He snapped his eyes up to meet hers. She was glorious, like a statue of some ancient Greek goddess, and he wanted to get on his knees and worship her.

  He leaned back, rested his elbows on the railing, and eyed the swath of pink running across the bridge of her nose. “The sun has kissed your cheeks.”

  “It’s pointless to wear a bonnet. The wind just tears it off. And I can’t stay in my cabin. I need the air.”

  “The color becomes you.” She might have blushed at his compliment. He couldn’t tell. Nature’s caress hid her true response.

  She stepped up to the rail beside him. “How far do you think we’ve come?”

  He turned so that he stood behind her, looking over her shoulder, his body hugging her back without actually touching. “You cannae see because of the sun’s glare, but I’m told the coast of Aberdeenshire is directly to the west.”

  “How long?”

  He knew what she meant. “If this good weather holds, Mr. Purdie believes we’ll make port in four days. Five days at the most.”

  “And then?”

  He placed his hand on her waist. She leaned back against his chest and he hardened. “And then I will see you safely home.”

  “It’s not my home. It’s the place where I must live.”

  He dipped his head and his lips touched her ear. “Where is your home, lass?”

  Virginia turned to face him then, her eyes brimming from the wind or from sadness. She gave him the ghost of a smile and placed a hand over his heart. “Here.”

  He would have kissed her, would have taken her in his arms, carried her to her cabin, and to hell with everyone else; he didn’t bloody care. But Lucy, the wee bizzum, came to tell them supper was being served. Thankfully, the throbbing below his belt eased at the sound of Lucy’s voice or his breeks would have revealed his amorous intentions.

  “Cook has made a beef daube that smells delicious.”

  Virginia twined her arm in Lucy’s. “Are you coming, Mr. Magnus?”

  “I
’ll wash and join you straight away.”

  And so, went the following days. Four hours of work. Four hours of sleep. He ate whenever possible. Work, sleep, eat. Work, sleep, eat. Though the work varied, the schedule didn’t. The only break in the monotony was when he was able to steal a precious few minutes with Virginia. When he did, they spoke of very little. She simply allowed him to stand close to her, inside the space she shared only with her most intimate companions. He came alive when he could feel the warmth of her skin. Like the sun, it revitalized him, gave him strength, gave him courage. For, if she was brave enough to return to the viper pit, he could find the courage to face what awaited him in England.

  …

  Virginia retrieved a covered bowl of fortifying beef broth from the galley and brought it to Mr. Snowdon’s cabin. The poor man had been disabled by sea sickness since boarding Gael Forss. She rapped lightly on the door.

  “Mr. Snowdon? It’s Lady Langley. May I come in?”

  A startled, “One moment!” Then a crash and violent thumping. “A moment, if you please, Your Ladyship,” he called again. At last, Snowdon opened his cabin door, green-faced and hair matted. “I do beg your pardon for my appearance—”

  “Never you mind about that, Mr. Snowdon. I’ve brought you something you might be able to keep down. You haven’t eaten in three days.”

  Snowdon gave the beef broth a dubious look. “My thanks.”

  She set the bowl on the small corner table. “Are you feeling any better?”

  “A bit. It was the same on my journey north. Pure misery.”

  “I find that fresh air helps me a great deal. Perhaps you would join me on deck? I would like to discuss business with you, if I could.” She adjusted her spectacles and gave Snowdon her sweetest smile.

  The man mustered a trembling grin in return. “Yes, of course. Capital idea. I will join you anon.”

  A quarter of an hour later, Snowdon emerged from below deck blinking mole-eyed in the sun. He staggered toward where she stood near the stern, ricocheting off a bollard on the way, until he secured himself to the railing with two white-knuckled hands. “There, now.” He straightened. “Yes, well. The air is much better here. Much better. Thank you.”

  Virginia waited until he’d caught his breath completely. “Mr. Begley received my letter, of course. No doubt, he read the damning newspaper article, as well, and yet he must have believed my claim even though my husband did not.”

  “Yes. All that is true.”

  “Then why is it that he believes me and not my husband?”

  “Two reasons, really. The first, outside of our firm, you are the only person who would know about the, em…mix up with your trust for which I do beg your forgiveness for our gross oversight. We will do everything within our power to see that the money is returned to you. We received your letter on the same day we saw the article in which Langley insisted you had died and well…”

  “As you can see, I’m very much alive.”

  “Yes. Langley buried someone, just not you.” Snowdon relaxed enough to release one hand and scratch his nose. “I can’t imagine how he made that mistake.”

  “I can. The men who abducted me took my bonnet and cloak, and then stole my ring and spectacles. They must have found a woman near to my description, dressed her up, and then…dear, Lord. It’s horrifying to think some poor woman took my place under a carriage wheel.”

  “Criminals. Absolute criminals.”

  “You mentioned there were two reasons you believed me. What was the other?”

  Snowdon scratched the side of his nose. “I hesitate to say. Lord Langley is your husband, and I wouldn’t want to disparage his character—”

  “I am well aware of my husband’s character, or lack thereof,” Virginia said, her words clipped with impatience. “Please disabuse yourself of the notion that anything Langley does would surprise me.”

  He pursed his lips suppressing a smile. Her confession had somehow improved the young man’s condition by yards. “It happens that one of my employers, I daren’t say who, frequents the same gambling hell as His Lordship. They have…” Snowdon cleared his throat, “friends in common and there has been…talk.”

  As a rule, Virginia hated gossip. Today, however, she opened herself to all that Snowdon had to say.

  “Go on, Mr. Snowdon. I’m listening.”

  That evening, Virginia was pleased to see Mr. Snowdon enter the captain’s dining room. Though he had regained his color, bright rosy patches on his cheeks, his short hesitant shuffle indicated he was uncertain of his welcome.

  “Ah, Mr. Snowdon. I’m glad to see you well.” Captain Sinclair indicated a chair. “Please have a seat.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Virginia made room for Snowdon. “I think the air did you good.”

  “Indeed, m’lady. I am grateful to you.”

  Magnus arrived and she made introductions. Shortly afterward, diners crammed the room to capacity with hardly any elbow room to eat. Mr. Purdie, Mr. Snowdon, Mr. Peter, Captain Sinclair, Magnus, Alex, Lucy, Jemma, and Virginia—nine squeezed around a table meant for six—talking, shouting, laughing, chewing, passing, and reaching; it was a free-for-all and everyone seemed to relish the experience.

  The diminutive Mr. Snowdon had lost his reserve and made himself quite at home among the towering Scots, when, out of the blue, he said to her, “I’m certainly glad I found you at the docks before those two varlets reached you.” The entire table went silent. Snowdon froze in place, a forkful of potatoes poised before his mouth. He darted wide eyes from side to side and lowered his fork. “Sorry. Did I say something untoward?”

  “What two varlets?” Magnus asked. Virginia placed a hand on his arm. Magnus could be very imposing without meaning to.

  “Mr. Snowdon is referring to Mr. Mudd and Mr. Pismire. I’m sorry. I hadn’t had an opportunity to tell you before supper.”

  Magnus aimed a furious look at Snowdon. “He can tell me now.”

  Snowdon’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. In a shaky voice he said, “There were two men on the ship to Thurso. They boarded in London with me. We were all traveling in steerage.” Snowdon looked to Virginia. She nodded and sent him a smile meant to give him confidence. “I heard the one call the other Mr. Mudd. I didn’t catch the other one’s name, but he had a disgusting—”

  “Skin condition,” Magnus finished for him.

  Snowdon’s eyes got even bigger, and he spoke with earnest. “Yes, and I’ll tell you this, sir, I did not like the look of them. Not one bit.” He leaned inward. “They kept to themselves most of the trip, but once, when they thought I was asleep, I heard snatches of their conversation. Something about finding the viscountess and getting rid of her or His Lordship would have them both—” He glanced at Lucy and Virginia. “Em, they used rude words for the rest. I assumed they were talking about Lady Langley and that they were sent by Lord Langley. That’s why I got off the boat in Wick and rented a coach. So I could beat them to Balforss.” He sat up straight, looking victorious. When no one congratulated him, he looked from blank face to blank face and asked, “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, Mr. Snowdon,” Virginia assured him. “As I said this afternoon, you did exactly the right thing. The brave thing. And I can never thank you enough.”

  Magnus leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, and stared pointedly at Alex. Alex closed his eyes and nodded silently. Both men were kind enough not to point out to Mr. Snowdon that Wick lay three times farther away from Balforss than Thurso.

  “That’s our proof, then,” Magnus said. “There’s no more doubt. Langley is behind your abduction. You cannae go back to Bromley Hall, and you cannae go back to London without protection.”

  …

  On the evening of the fifth day, Magnus arrived at the captain’s table for supper to discover one chair empty. “Where is she?”

  Alex glared at him. “Ye mean, Her Ladyship? She said she was
nae hungry.” He took a huge bite of buttered bread and chewed.

  Magnus continued to stare at his cousin waiting for more information.

  Without looking up, Alex took a drink from his cup and added, “She was forward when I last saw her.”

  “Excuse me.” Magnus exited the captain’s mess.

  At first, he didn’t see her. The ship’s lamp lit the mast in such a way it cast a shadow across the bow. Perhaps she’d chosen the cover of the shadow to hide her tears. He saw her dash them away when he approached.

  “What troubles you?”

  She kept her back to him. He didn’t mind. He could get closer to her when her back was to him, and he needed to be inside her orbit.

  She sniffed. “Will you do something for me?”

  “Anything,” he said. “Just ask and I will do it.” He placed his hands on her waist, feather light.

  “Come to me tonight.”

  Her voice was so low, he thought he hadn’t heard her properly. “What did you say?”

  She turned suddenly. “Come to my cabin tonight, Magnus.”

  Blood pounded in his head. He had heard her right. She had said the words he’d only dreamed of hearing. All his fantasies of having her—alone, to himself, naked, under him, on him—swirled around his addled pate until he felt lightheaded. “Are you sure, love?”

  “I don’t care about what’s right or wrong anymore. I want to know what it’s like to be loved by you.”

  Virginia rose on her toes and stole a kiss so bold, so demanding, he was too stunned to notice when she left his arms and fled to her cabin. There was no mistaking the meaning of her kiss. Nothing coy or uncertain. Her shocking directness struck something raw and hungry inside him. And his balls ached with wanting her.

  Jesus God, his watch began in a quarter of an hour. He glanced down. “At ease, soldier.”

  During the last hour of his watch, he manned the bilge pump. Because of his strength, he could work it twice as long as any other able-bodied member of the crew. He was happy to take the duty, as well. The bilge required no thought. Just muscle. His mind was free to wander wherever he liked.