Almost a Scandal (12 page)

“I suppose it might be. But it’s not very exciting. Nobody in my family is exciting like yours. Nobody ever went in the navy before. Nobody told me what it would be like.”

“Everyone in my family goes into the navy. In fact, people in my family have no choice
but
to go into the navy.”

And it struck her, as she spoke, for the first time ever, how odd that might seem to others who felt a navy career was impossible. How … unfair that might be.

But Ian Worth
was
in the navy and he needed bolstering up. He needed to figure out that he could make a go of his chosen career despite Mr. Gamage. “Tell me more about Gloucestershire.”

He shrugged. “Ciren Castle is said to be very beautiful.”

“Is it? Is it famous? I don’t even know where that is. I have never been to most places in England. While I have been to any number of foreign ports and exotic locales, I’ve only ever been to the places between Falmouth and Portsmouth on the south coast. You must know a great deal more about the country than I.”

Worth smiled for the first time, a little hiccup of a smile, but a beginning nonetheless. “Really? Fancy me knowing anything more than you.”

Pleased her result was taking effect, Sally returned his smile. “There is probably a great deal about which you know more than me. I only know about the sea and sailing and the navy because I was raised with it. You will know a great deal more about however it was you were raised, and all knowledge can eventually be put to good use.”

The boy considered that. “I do know some about dogs. My father always kept a very great pack of dogs. And I do know something of farming, and tenants and the upkeep of an estate. Fat lot of good it will do me now.”

Sally didn’t want to let him slide back into dejection. “An estate? Is your father a landowner?”

“I suppose he must be. He does have a great deal of land. That is to say, he owns Ciren Castle and all the lands of Ciren Park, and the town, I suppose. He is a viscount. Viscount Rainesford. But I’m just his second son.”

Such was the lot of the second sons of the world—the spares. Will Jellicoe was another.

While the two younger boys did not have the experience and navy connections the Kents did, clearly they came from families who had enough income to buy them their preferred slots, and enough influence to assist them politically when the time came for advancement.

Perhaps that was why Mr. Gamage, who seemed to have neither patronage, influence, nor friends, should be so very hateful to the boys. “Does anyone else, like Mr Gamage, know about your family?”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose Captain McAlden must. My father said he had to buy my berth here.”

Sally was sorry to have brought it up when she sensed a renewal of his helplessness. “Yes, we are very lucky to have gotten this berth, Mr. Gamage notwithstanding. Captain McAlden is a very successful frigate captain, and you may be assured that it took a great deal of influence for your father to have gotten you situated here. There are probably a thousand boys who should very much like a chance to earn the kind of prize money Captain McAlden is reputed to have taken.”

A thousand boys. But not every boy. Not Richard. Maybe not even poor Ian. Perhaps he had wanted to stay on his father’s estate and spend his days working out problems of drainage and irrigation, instead of learning halyards and backstays. Sally hadn’t thought much about it before. Not every family raised a flock of sons for the sea. Perhaps there was some wisdom in parceling out one’s sons into different lines of work. Perhaps, just perhaps, Richard might not have been so wrong after all.

“Captain McAlden’s compliments, Mr. Kent.” It was Pinky, come back to find her, looking anxious. “The captain requests you in his cabin. Best come along, young Kent.”

So this was it. Sally stood and smoothed down her clothing. It seemed important, important to the dignity of the Kents, that she put in a good appearance. She ought to be thankful that Mr. Colyear seemed to have handled the matter so discreetly. She could only hope that her dismissal would be as private as possible, to spare her family the scandal.

She nodded to Worth, and shook his hand, because it seemed like the right thing to do. “Mr. Worth. A pleasure, sir. Rest your trust safely with Pinky and it will all come right.” She turned back to her old friend and did the same. “Thank you, Pinky, for everything. I’ll go directly.”

The old salt knuckled his shiny forehead and stood back to watch her go. It wasn’t a particularly long walk from where she and Worth had been conversing near the foot of the companionway ladders in the waist, but it seemed short, even though she felt as if she were weighed down with shot in her pockets. And despite her best intentions to weather the coming storm with courage and honor, her heart was beating a heavy dirge in her chest.

The marine standing sentry at the captain’s door didn’t bother himself to look at a lowly midshipman, so Sally had to knock for herself, rapping her knuckles too hard against the canvas and wood door in time with the beating tattoo of her heart.

“Come,” the peremptory summons came through the door.

Captain McAlden was alone and seated at a table near the stern gallery, situated so as to take best advantage of the light. But as the vessel was sailing almost due west, the stern gallery was somewhat more dim than the deck had been.

The captain was still engaged in his work and did not immediately look up upon her entry, but continued to labor at whatever paper lay before him.

Sally found the only way to calm, or even hide, the clammy nervousness that was fracturing her pulse and dampening her palms was to let her eyes wander over the cabin, and let the familiarity of memory occupy her mind. The cabin was sparsely but comfortably appointed, with some fine but not delicate furniture. It was smaller than the cabin on her father’s ships, and,
Audacious
being a frigate, the space was dominated by the huge twelve-pounders to either side of the hull. A stark reminder of the seriousness of their purpose. The purpose she would soon be without.

“Mr. Kent.” Arctic blue eyes probed like an icicle. She waited for the next cold thrust. But instead, Captain McAlden made an impatient economic gesture toward a small table tucked next to the larboard gun. “Your desk is there. May I trust you know the business?”

Fear must have made her stupid. “Sir?”

“Five copies of each order, in a clean, clear hand. Your extra years of schooling will be made useful this evening.”

“You need me to act as your clerk?”

“Aye. What did you expect? Though your name is Kent, you are reputed to have the requisite skills for the position.”

“Certainly, sir.” Her head felt full of cotton wadding. “I thought Mr. Colyear had spoken to you?”

“He did. He recommended you to assist me in place of my clerk, Mr. Pike, who is suffering his usual agonies of
mal de mer
at the beginning of a cruise. Or has Mr. Colyear got it wrong? Have you never played clerk for your father?”

She had, on numerous occasions, writing out letters as he dictated, or doing just as Captain McAlden had bade and making copies of orders and reports for the Admiralty. “Yes, sir. Just so. Demons for paperwork, my father said the Admiralty was.” Relief seemed to be making her chatty.

Because all she could hear in her mind, over and over, was,
He didn’t tell.

He didn’t tell
.

“They still are, Mr. Kent.” The captain was agreeing with her and still pointing to the little desk with the feather tip of his quill. “So I suggest you set yourself to it in a timely fashion, if you are to see this work done before your supper.”

“Yes, sir.” She dove for the desk with such agitated enthusiasm that she knocked the little chair back onto the floor. “I beg your very great pardon, sir.”

“Handsomely now, Kent. Test not your zeal on my poor chair. It is the papers you will want to attack.”

Sally got to work quickly and quietly, making rapid work of the copies, while all the time her mind kept repeating,
He didn’t tell. He didn’t tell
.

But then, of course, once she had gotten over the shock, she began to wonder
why.
Why had Mr. Colyear not turned her in? He had every reason to do so. Including the one she had not yet told him—Mr. Gamage’s threat. It was only fair that she tell him now. It would be cowardly not to. It would be puny and selfish in the light of his own generous conduct. She could never repay such generosity, such charity, even if she spent the rest of her life trying.

She applied herself to the captain’s papers with diligence, and managed to leave only a blot or two in her wake by the time she was done.

“You’ve a fine hand, Mr. Kent,” the captain said when he reviewed her work.

“Thank you, sir.” She stood before his table, and couldn’t help but notice a beautiful, small glass-and-gold-encased painting laid out on the desk next to his papers.

“I see you admiring my miniature, Mr. Kent.”

“My pardon, sir. It’s a lovely portrait,” she said sincerely.

“I thank you. It is of Lady Trinity McAlden. My wife.”

She might have known. Her father had carried just such a portrait of her mother for years. She had a copy of it at home, in Falmouth. And she’d made sure to pack a third copy for Richard in his sea trunk. “She is very beautiful. And very young.”

The captain’s smile was bittersweet, as if he had some secret he took pleasure in keeping. “She will be flattered. Although she was young. I had it made for me some eight years ago, upon the occasion of our marriage, but I can say with confidence that she is still the handsomest woman of my acquaintance. And much missed.”

“I am sorry, sir. Were you not able to visit with her when
Audacious
was in England?”

“Unfortunately, no. My lady lives not in England, but in the Bahamas, on the island of New Providence.” Again the smile. “She prefers the warmer climate.”

“Ah.” Sally was all agreement. “I don’t blame her. It is a most salubrious climate.”

The captain chuckled. “You and she are rather singular in thinking it so. But I forget that you must have been to the Bahamas, Mr. Kent.”

“Yes, sir. With my father in
Adamant,
in the year ’98 or ’99. I don’t precisely remember.” Sally grew conscious that she might be overstaying her welcome, as well as pressing her luck. “Was there anything else, sir?”

“No, Mr. Kent.” But the captain seemed inclined for her to linger. He leaned back in his chair and contemplated her from behind the steeples of his fingers. Though she had had some time to become accustomed to it, his icy blue stare still managed to unnerve her. “I’m pleased with you thus far,” he began. “I won’t scruple to tell you, I had some reservations about you when it took so long for your father to send you to me. I feared you might not be amenable to navy life.”

Devil take it. Was there no one aboard
Audacious
who did not know poor Richard’s story? Perhaps it was a good thing he had not come aboard, for he never would have been able to overcome such low expectations. “No, sir.”

“But you are here now, and you seem to be making the best of it. I commend you on your good sense. Continue on as you’ve begun, and you’ll do well here, Mr. Kent.”

“Thank you, sir. Your confidence means a great deal to me, and I will continue to endeavor to earn it.”

“Well said, sir. But I hope I may speak to you candidly. I also notice … a small but distinct air of antagonism has arisen between you and my first lieutenant.”

The blood that had warmed under Captain McAlden’s kind attention frosted up her veins. She answered carefully, but with the truth. “Oh, no, sir.”

“No?” His tone might have been gentle, but no less probing. “Then is it all on Mr. Colyear’s part?”

It took Sally a long moment to realize she was holding her breath. “No.” She could not let Mr. Colyear take the blame for his well-justified reaction to her. She owed him that much. “No, sir, it was my fault. I was delayed at the sally port in Portsmouth and Mr. Colyear was obliged to come fetch me at great personal inconvenience. I was not perhaps as appreciative of his sacrifice as I ought to have been.”

“Then, for the good of the ship, I would bid you to be.”

“I am, sir. Mr. Colyear has been very affable in setting me on the right tack.”

“I daresay he has. Mr. Colyear is the most affable first lieutenant I have ever had the pleasure of employing. But don’t let that fool you, Mr. Kent. He knows his business, our Mr. Colyear does. He never loses his self-possession, never carries on yelling at the top of his lungs, and still his baritone can be heard quite clearly over the cannons’ roar.”

“Then that is the measure of an officer I will set for myself.”

“You can do no better, Mr. Kent. Mr. Colyear is a man to be emulated, but also a man to trust. I adjure you to trust in him. You, and every man of this crew who applies himself with rigor to his duty, will find in Mr. Colyear an invaluable friend.”

“Thank you, sir,” she answered, because it seemed to be what the captain wanted to hear her say. But Captain McAlden could have no idea how completely she was forced to rest her trust in Mr. Colyear.

Because the question remained unanswered—if Mr. Colyear hadn’t told the captain, just what in the devil did he want in exchange for his silence?

Chapter Eight

Col was waiting, walking quietly across the starboard gangway above, when she came out into the waist. He stilled his pacing—however much he had wanted to disguise it as exercise, it was still pacing—and willed her to come to him.

She did. She brought herself out of the captain’s cabin with the same straightforward resignation with which she had gone in. And with the same straightforward manner of speaking. “You’ll be disappointed in me, Mr. Colyear.”

“Will I?” He was surprised by the edge of challenge in her voice.

“You wanted me to speak to him myself, didn’t you?”

Points to her for perception. “Yes. I was hoping you would do the right thing.” And spare him the task.

“I didn’t.” Her tone was more than challenging—it was almost defiant.