A Scandal to Remember (15 page)

“This is a great relief to me, Mr. Denman. I will gladly take you up on your offer.” Dance held out his hand. “Welcome aboard
Tenacious
. I’ll add you to the muster rolls for this cruise”—that is, if he ever got the official rolls—“and you can draw pay from the Admiralty while you’re making your scientific discoveries. Let me show you down to the surgeon’s bay on the orlop platform.”

“No need, Mr. Dance, for either the pay, or for the escort. I know my way around a frigate well enough.”

Well, damn the man for having such deep pockets that he didn’t need the pay. Dance had never been so lucky. But such jealousy was beneath him—beneath them both. Dance could ill afford to dislike such a useful man.

“Then I will leave you to it, and thank you for your offer.” Finally a piece of good luck. Perhaps their fortunes had turned.

But Dance could only laugh at himself. Because he knew better than to believe it.

Chapter Nine

If it took a thief to catch a thief, then it took another liar to know one when she saw him. And if Lieutenant Dance was not exactly lying, then he was at the very least covering some very important truth. His brows were furrowed together in a deep frown that was only slightly less combative than his usual scowl.

Unlike her, the lieutenant’s lie did not look as if it were setting him free—he looked as if he were being eaten from the inside out.

Perhaps that was why he couldn’t eat. But her eyes had told her something else was at play. She had observed the minute, but telling, exchange of glances between Mr. Dance and the other lieutenant—a very gentlemanly young man named Able Simmons. And she had not mistaken their restraint with the ham. As a result Jane had taken none of the meat herself, and kept to the good brown soup and the potatoes, as, she noted, did Mr. Denman. But she could not shake the feeling that there was something she did not understand, a circumstance which was underscored by the fact that the party of naturalists was taking dinner in the wardroom instead of the captain’s table as had been agreed upon.

And then there had been his reluctant admission that
Tenacious
did not have a surgeon, and his grateful acceptance of Mr. Denman’s help. And his bringing on Lieutenant Simmons and the boys from the Marine Society just before they sailed. And his too candid admission that their captain was a drunk.

And his seething, too short temper.

Lieutenant Dance was hiding something. And she meant to find out what—the lieutenant’s perpetual scowl notwithstanding.

She immediately sought out Punch, trailing after him as he cleared away the platter of ham that Sir Richard and the other men had just devoured. “Who has paid for our food, Punch?”

The steward only shook his head, and gave no answer.

“Punch?” The man still looked reticent, keeping his gaze turned to the floor, so Jane asked him directly. “Why should it be such a secret? Is Lieutenant Dance trying to make economies and scrimp on the food?”

Punch looked conscious, and glanced around to see if anyone else were listening before he gave his answer. “Perhaps for this meal we did, miss. But it’s only as we didn’t know it would fall to him to feed you.”

“But why did it fall to him? Our dinners were part of our agreement with the captain,” Jane countered. “Remitted before we ever set sail. Do the captain’s servants not know this?” Perhaps Sir Richard had not made the financial arrangement clear when he had made his inquiries about their missing meals?

“Yes, miss.” Punch nodded and agreed, as if he were loath to make any argument. “But the captain don’t keep a table. And you lot needed to be fed, so Mr. Dance, he does what Mr. Dance does, and he makes do, and sees to it. He opened up his provisions, and bought more from the others—hen shares and fish, though he don’t like it—and Lieutenant Simmons and Doc Whitely done the same, though they ain’t told me as I can make entirely free with their foodstuffs the way the lieutenant said. And he give over all his spice.”

“Lieutenant Dance? And is that a very expensive thing to do, Punch?”

“Give over his spice, ma’am? Well, it ain’t cheap. Though we’ll get more in Bahia or Rio, sez he. But I’ve to get to my work, miss, and not be seen idling. Mr. Ransome be free with his cane, even with the stewards.”

“I understand, Punch.” She herself had felt the touch of the boatswain’s malevolent stare, if not the weight of his cane, enough to understand the steward’s misgivings. “I won’t keep you.”

And since the malevolent Mr. Ransome seemed to be busy patrolling elsewhere, Jane felt free to venture topside, where she was sure to find the scowling lieutenant.

And he was scowling now, where he stood upon the dark quarterdeck, looking up at the sails illuminated like pale slices of the bright moon in the night. He seemed more at home there than anywhere else. Unlike the rest of the crew, whose work and leisure time seemed evenly divided, Lieutenant Dance seemed to spend the greater part of his time standing watch. Indeed, she had not seen him below deck at all before their dinner.

And, though he had somehow and somewhere scraped clean the dark shading of whiskers across his chin before he had come to the table, the dark circles around his deep-set eyes were an indication that he had not yet slept through a night. Because he had given her his cabin.

It was simply not right.

She came only close enough for their conversation to be private from the helmsman and the other few crew members in evidence. “Thank you for the dinner, Lieutenant.”

He did not look away from his examination of his sails, keeping his own counsel, but it suited her, this one-sided arrangement—she could look at him without the weight of his probing stare to remind her that she had secrets and lies of her own.

“You are welcome, Miss Burke. Though I noticed you did not partake of the meat. Was the ham not to your liking?”

She could not quite gauge his tone. “The ham was very much to my liking, Lieutenant, but I could not help but feel that it might be in short supply.”

Oh, he looked at her then—that swift cut of his eyes, dark and lethal in the night. “You need have no fear on that account, Miss Burke. Your contract with
Tenacious
will be upheld.”

It was hard not to react to the clear hostility in his tone—for she felt that she had done nothing to earn it. But she did understand that it might be pride and fear that made him speak so. “You mistake me, sir. My concern is not exactly for the arrangement I made—indeed, we all made—with the captain to share his table, but for the burden it seems to have inadvertently put upon you and your wardroom. While I am grateful that you are upholding our arrangement—for five hundred pounds is a monstrous load of money—my observation of the situation tells me that while the burden of the arrangement has shifted to you, the money has not.”

The muscle along the line of his jaw twitched, before his mouth curved into a rueful, cynical smile. “You must be a very good scientist, if you are always this observant. What else do you know?”

She had not expected so blunt a question. “Nothing. I only know there was no dinner yesterday or the day before, and only after Sir Richard made inquiries was the situation remedied, not by the captain, but by you.”

“It is my responsibility to act when the captain cannot.”

“Cannot? Or will not?”

“The captain finds himself indisposed.” He said the word firmly, with a small nod of his head in confirmation. Just as if he had rehearsed it. “Like a great many men, including our late Admiral Nelson, he finds himself ill each time we set to sea.”

“You are not a very good liar, Lieutenant. And however true this tale of seasickness may be, it is still a deception. You said before that he was drunk.”

He swore under his breath, and shook his head. “Devil take me. I should not have said so. And you should not have remembered.”

“I am, as you said, a scientist, Lieutenant Dance, and a good one. It is my curse always to observe, and see, and remember, and never to forget.” And hardly ever to forgive. She could never forgive her father’s betrayals—being too prideful to publicly acknowledge her contributions to what ought to have been
their
book. Leaving off all attribution from each and every one of the colored plates in
The Conchology of Britain
that she had spent years and years—happy, fulfilling years, so she had thought—painstakingly hand-tinting. And choosing not to join the Royal Society’s expedition, because his daughter’s skills would be apparent for all his fellow naturalists to see. All selfishness and pride.

The lieutenant wasn’t selfish, even if he had pride to spare—the dinner had just proved that.

But, her conscience reminded her, she ought to judge herself more harshly than she judged the lieutenant. She had denied the truth just as assuredly as her father, in order to justify her own deception.

She was a liar, no matter how justified. What remained for her to find out, was if the lieutenant’s lie was justified as well. “What happened to the money—some twenty-five hundred pounds?”

He shook his head, but could not meet her gaze. “You have my word, Miss Burke, that your party will continue to be well fed.”

She had not expected such evasion from him, who seemed so straightforward. “That is not what I asked, Lieutenant. Can you assure me that you are paying for our victuals out of that money?”

“I can assure you only that you will be fed, Miss Burke, to the utmost of my ability. You have my word upon it.”

“I believe you. It is not your word that I doubt.”

He looked at her again, those dark probing eyes searching her face, trying to gauge what he thought of her, but he did not speak.

They stood in the dark with the sound of the night wind filling the sails, and the hushed rush of the water sluicing down the side of the hull for a long moment of tense, uncomfortable silence before she spoke. “So what shall you do about the captain?” she asked him.

“The same as I am doing now,” was his prompt response. “Running the ship, correcting the deficiencies. Keeping the men at their work. Standing watch on watch until it is no longer necessary for me to do so.”

She tried to understand what he was not saying, as well as what he was—that he took full responsibility for whatever problems
Tenacious
might have, including her drunken captain. “And if it remains necessary?”

“I will do what is necessary,” the lieutenant confirmed. “It is my duty.”

Jane absorbed this evidence of the lieutenant’s character. And did what little she thought she could do to help him. “I understand you spent almost all of last night on deck?”

He narrowed his eyes then, and gave that quick cynical twist of his lips that told her he was not best pleased to be found out. “Punch should mind his mouth.”

“Punch should mind his lieutenant better, and see that his lieutenant gets some sleep.”

“I am quite used to sea officer’s hours, Miss Burke, I assure you. I can stand watch on watch as necessary, easily enough.”

“But for how long, Lieutenant? As you noted, I am a scientist, and although I study the shells of clams and snails, I know that all living beings need rest. For our safety as well as yours, Lieutenant. For if you are all that stands between us and a drunken, incompetent captain, it would seem we have a very great need of you.”

Another narrow sideways wince sliced across his face. “I should not have told you that. And must ask that you not spread such news aboard.” Another thought seemed to occur to him, for he briefly closed his eyes, as if he were in pain. “Or do all the others of your party already know? What else has Punch said?”

“No. I have said nothing. And Punch has only said that you don’t spare yourself, and are doing all the work. The rest I simply observed.”

He let out a huff of sarcastic laughter. “Are all naturalists this observant, or is it only you?”

She shrugged her opinion of all other naturalists—for she could not speak for people she did not know. “If they are any good. But I perhaps have something more to the point than the others. I know something of carrying the weight of others upon one’s back—of having all the responsibility and none of the authority, Lieutenant. And it rankles. I suspect that under all of your cynical nonchalance, you are too good a man to be taken advantage of in this way.”

“You mistake me, Miss Burke. If you ask the men—though frankly, I recommend that you don’t, and have no more contact with any of them than absolutely necessary—they will tell you I haven’t a good bone in my body. Don’t make me into some bloody hero.”

Jane wasn’t about to let him put her off with such transparent cynicism. “Your giving me your cabin, and feeding us all, was goodness and a kindness, whether it was intentional or not.”

“Miss Burke, I vacated my cabin solely to keep the peace, and keep you in the place where you can cause the least amount of mischief.”

Jane felt the fine hairs on her arm bristle up like spines on a sea urchin, despite the fact that she thought the lieutenant meant to put her off again, so she might think ill of him, and keep him at his proper distance. Which was undoubtedly a prudent idea. But clearly, she was rather done with prudence. She rather liked too much this feeling of being right. “Rest assured, Lieutenant, I mean to cause you no mischief.”

That brought a full-throated laugh out of the man, and brought that wry smile twisting across his face. “Oh, come now, Miss Burke. You are not a very good liar either.” He turned that keen, probing glance upon her, and it was as if he could see straight through her, into the dark heart of her deception. “Surely you’re more intelligent than to try to deceive me. Certainly you’re more ambitious. You would not have subjected yourself to the discomfort and tedium of such a journey, not to mention the disapproval of men such as Sir Richard, if you were not ambitious.”

Jane had never before had someone so easily expose her secret soul. Even her parents had never guessed. “I would never characterize myself as ambitious.”

But even as she spoke, Jane could feel her face flame with the lie. As much as she didn’t like to admit such grasping, unladylike behavior, the lieutenant had the right of it. She was ambitious. She wanted her own name on the cover of a monograph. She wanted the recognition and respect of her fellow scientists. She wanted the Royal Society’s acclaim. She wanted it all.