Almost a Scandal (20 page)

She could get the point across even if she could not remember the word for surrender. She brought her arm up and pointed the gun at him point-blank.

The captain arched his haughty eyebrow and looked down his considerable nose at her.
“Para esto me mandan una niña?”

She shot a glance at Lieutenant Rudge, who asked, “What does he say
?”

For this they send a little girl?
There was no way she could repeat that to Mr. Rudge. Instead, Sally narrowed her eyes as she looked back at the Spaniard, and simply cocked back the hammer.

The don, thus compelled to promptitude, drew his sword out of the scabbard, and said with ponderous, heavily accented English, “Don Almonso de Talma de Gomez y Viavincencio, of His Most Catholic Majesty’s Navy. Whom do I have the minimal pleasure of addressing?”

Mr. Rudge was a gentleman, and ignored the don’s subtle slur. “Lieutenant Frederick Rudge, of His Majesty King George’s Royal Navy, your excellency.” Rudge sheathed his sword and bowed with exquisite politeness. “At your service.”

Thus restored to his dignity, the don capitulated with greater grace. “My sword and my command are now yours.”

“I accept on behalf of Captain McAlden, and I invite you to join him aboard
Audacious
directly. I am honored to escort you.” Lieutenant Rudge swept his arm toward the companionway, even as he nodded to Sally and said quietly, “Keep your sidearm drawn and see what you can do with these papers.”

It was no great feat to gather up the charred remains of the Spaniard’s orders, and fold them into her waistcoat, before she returned to the deck. With the assistance of a few Spaniards compelled by the guard of the marines,
Audacious
’s people were already hard at work chopping away the fouled rigging of the xebec’s fallen mizzen, and clearing away debris.

“Mr. Kent, if you would be so kind.” Captain McAlden called her to
Audacious
’s quarterdeck, where he and the don awaited her with cold civility.

“I understand you have Spanish as well as French in your head, Mr. Kent. Such unplumbed depths. If you would do the honors? This fellow seems to think they’re necessary.”

Sally chanced another glance at the Spaniard who was regarding her with barely veiled impatience, his eyebrow an arabesque of cynical amusement. Devil take the man. He had more than enough English to repeat his earlier observation regarding her sex. But Captain McAlden was beginning to regard her with impatience as well. There was nothing for it but to do it quickly.

“Captain McAlden, I make you known to Don Almonso de Talma de Gomez, of His Catholic Majesty’s frigate
Cielo
.” Her part done, Sally immediately backed away, to hide herself in the welter of men putting the ship to rights.

“Sir.” McAlden inclined his head.

“Capitano Meek-aldain, my sword. I surrender to you
El Cielo
.” The don made a no doubt very correct but highly theatrical bow as he handed over his elaborately figured Toledo steel sword.

But Captain McAlden, thank the Lord, wasn’t one for pomp. He was all for the prize and was already handing Rudge the sword and then moved to the rail. “Accompany the don to my cabin, Mr. Rudge,” he said as he went, “and see to it Edwards makes him comfortable with whatever quantities of sherry are felt necessary, but put a marine on him. Is she serviceable, Mr. Charlton?” the captain asked as the sailing master approached to report on his inspection of the prize.

“Eminently, sir.”

“Excellent. Mr. Colyear, put a prize crew on her.”

“It’ll have to be mostly topmen, sir, with those lateen sails,” Mr. Colyear observed. He was always thinking ahead, always two steps before anyone else. “There are over two hundred prisoners, sir, even after the dead. It will take at least twenty of
Audacious
’s men, and a few marines.”

“Very good. And to command her?”

“Take Mr. Kent, sir.”

Sally froze at the mention of her name, but inside, her startled heart was all but vibrating within her chest. She moved cautiously aft toward the taffrail, feigning nonchalance, until she was close enough to hear the rest of the conversation. With so much activity around her, she was left alone to her eavesdropping.

“Mr. Kent?” the captain repeated, his voice heavy with question.

“He knows these waters between the Lizard and the coast of Brittany like the back of his hand. He’s sailed the Channel islands single-handedly on his family’s small ketch. He could sail into any English port blindfolded.”

She had no time to dwell on the high compliment Mr. Colyear paid her, even as he stabbed her in the back.

“A xebec-rigged frigate of war is not a small ketch.” Captain McAlden’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Nor is it a midshipman’s command, sir. And Mr. Kent is, at present, too useful to me. I collect it was he who spotted the oranges this forenoon? Yes, so I surmised by your sending him to me.”

Sally could hear the exasperation in Col’s voice. “Did he not tell you that himself, sir?”

“No, Mr. Colyear, he did not. He gave all credit to you.”

“I beg your pardon, sir. I had no idea that he would do so. Indeed, I sent him to you on purpose—”

“No apologies, Mr. Colyear. I see it all clearly now.” There was a pause before Captain McAlden continued. “But as to the prize, I think it best for Mr. Rudge. He will benefit most from a temporary command. See it done, Mr. Colyear.”

Sally listened without hearing as Col called out the rest of his commands, and willed her feet to move. She felt numb, both from relief at having been spared command of the prize, and poleaxed by Col’s willingness, even desire, to be rid of her. She had thought they had reached an agreement of sorts, a cordiality. And she had certainly proved her usefulness to him today. What more could he want?

And why did it hurt so much? Why did her throat feel tight with heat?

The answer was hers for the asking when Mr. Colyear found her, after the prize was on its way to the Admiralty, and order had for the most part been restored to
Audacious
. She was at her work with the foretopmen taking down the chains and netting.

He was just there, suddenly, silent and powerful, coming upon her before she knew it. “Two things, Kent.”

Sally noticed that he did not ask her to walk away with him, where their conversation might be private, but instead stood firm on the foredeck, where their talk was eminently public. Even so, she was ready with all the arguments she had silently marshaled at the tip of her tongue, but he looked tired, as if the battle had taken every bit of fight out of him. “Are you all right, Mr. Colyear?”

Her question seemed to astonish him. His head tipped slowly back, away from her, as if she had shocked him. As if she had said something damaging and incendiary, instead of inquiring after his health. “You just seem a bit strained.”

“I am strained, Kent. It’s a first lieutenant’s
job
to be strained.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I thought you would be having a celebratory bumper of wine with the captain, or the gunroom.”

He smiled at that, and said obliquely, “I must teach you to drink brandy, Kent.”

“Brandy, sir? Mr. Colyear, sir, are you quite all to rights?”

“No, Kent, I am not. But that is beside the point, which is—I sent you to the captain this forenoon for a reason, Kent.”

“Yes, sir. I made my report.”

“You did. But imagine my chagrin, Kent, when I found I was to take the lion’s share of the captain’s admiration for the deed.”

“I only saw the orange peels, sir,” she hedged. “You were the one to observe what it might mean.”

“Don’t try my patience or my credulity, Kent. You’re as sharp as a boarding pike and twice as clever. And it is y
our
position in this ship that needs to be justified, not mine.”

Devil take her. She hadn’t thought of that. Only of impressing Mr. Colyear. “My apologies, sir.”

“Accepted. Next time, tell the truth about your accomplishment. Saves me the damned trouble of having to set the record straight later.”

He was so close, she felt his voice rumble through her chest. Which reminded her that he was
too
close, both for comfort and for appearance’s sake. She stepped back. “Was there something else, sir?”

“Aye—three things, actually. Secondly, good work today. Very good.”

“Thank you, sir. But if I did do good work, why did you ask to have me put on the prize crew?”

The look he gave her in answer was as hard as flint, and his straight, dark brows rose to show her he thought the answer ought to be obvious. “I thought you should be given a chance to make your way back to Portsmouth,
Mister
Kent. Whereupon you might be able to solve your family dilemma, without anyone else being left the responsibility of it.”

She didn’t want to admit to his logic. It hurt too much to be logical. “But I’m doing my work, aren’t I? I kept myself from a confrontation with Mr. Gamage. I used my head.” She didn’t like the little flute of desperation playing in her voice. She sounded like a needy child, not a naval officer.

Now he did walk away, leading her along the larboard gangway, where there was less chance of them being overheard.

“Your abilities have never been in question, Kent. You know you do very well. But that is not the point.”

She clung to
her
point. “If doing the job well, to the best of one’s abilities, and for the good of the king, the country, and the navy, isn’t the point, then what is?”

“God Almighty, Kent. You’re so bloody vehement. So damned sure. But the only thing I’m sure of is that whatever the point, Kent, it is not mine to make. Nor yours. We serve others. And we serve the rules that govern our behavior. I don’t make them, and I don’t always have to like them, but by God, I have to obey them. And so do you.”

She knew he was right. In principle, she agreed with him. But why should she not be allowed to obey the
same
rules as he? Why was she supposed to have an entirely different set of rules of what was permissible for her conduct? Why should she be able, but not able to serve? And why, oh why, did her throat feel so hot and tight? She ought to be feeling triumph. Instead she felt herself on the verge of tears. “It’s just not fair.”

“No, Kent. It’s not fair. It’s not fair at all. But sometimes fair isn’t better.” He drew himself up and took a straightening pull at his coat. “Which brings me to third thing. Go put on clean linen and wash your face.” He nodded his head aft. “Your captain awaits you.”

“You’ve told him, haven’t you? That’s why you look so depleted.”

*   *   *

The hurt, the desperate need in her voice, was like a slick knife in his gut. He wanted to reassure her. He wanted to be able to give her what she wanted and grant her every wish. He wanted, damn his eyes, to touch her and pull her to his chest, and whisper that it would be all right.

But it wasn’t going to be all right. And he couldn’t make it so.

Because she didn’t trust him to.

“Do have a little faith, Kent.” And with that he left her, because he couldn’t think of everything else he wanted to say.

Col retired momentarily to the blessed sanctuary of his cuddy in the gunroom to wash and change his own linen. But even the gunroom might no longer be a sanctuary, if Captain McAlden’s mooted plan to promote Kent to acting lieutenant came to fruition.

Damn his eyes. If he had her to hand, somewhere nearby, within his sphere … There were intimacies involved in living with a group of other people day in and day out. There were practicalities to be considered.

There was his sanity to be maintained.

He could see why she might be promoted ahead of boys like Worth and Jellicoe, and even midshipmen with slightly more experience like Dance and Beecham, who were good, but had neither her apparent facility for mathematics, nor her acute eye for telling details. Dance and Beecham reacted, and followed orders. Sally Kent acted, and thought of the orders before they were given.

But God help those boys when Gamage heard of it. To be passed over by Lieutenant Lawrence, who had been in
Audacious
six years almost to the day when he passed for lieutenant, was bad enough, but to be passed over by Kent, who had been with them scant days—hardly a week. It was not to be borne by one such as Gamage.

“Mr. Colyear.” The sailing master came out of his private cabin and eased his sinewy frame into a chair in the common area.

Col wasn’t in the mood for conversation, so he discouraged it the best way he knew, through politeness and drink. “Brandy?”

“Much obliged. Ah, thank you.” Charlton took a deep draught.

“Good day of work,” Col offered. The best way to keep himself from having to talk was to encourage others to do so.

“Excellent day of work,” Charlton agreed. “And I understand we have the sharp-eyed little Mr. Kent to thank for the prize?”

Col nodded and kept himself quietly occupied with tying a clean stock around his neck.

“He’s a Kent, through and through. Though I can see how it wouldn’t please you.”

That got Col’s attention. “Your pardon?”

“Hero worship. Can see it in the way he looks at you. Follows your every move, emulating the way you stand and walk. I’ve seen it time and time again. It’s a natural enough thing, so long as it doesn’t get unhealthy. And as long as you don’t exploit it.”

“Exploit it? In what way?”

“Making him into your creature. Making either a toadie or a pet of the boy. He’s anxious enough to please, and more than capable of doing so. It’s a tempting combination.”

Unease didn’t even begin to describe the sensation crawling under Col’s skin. But Mr. Charlton, damn his sharp old eyes, had a point. And Col knew he needed to heed it. “I suppose he is. He reminds me of his brother. Both of his brothers actually—they were both my shipmates. And probably the father as well, though I’ve never served with him and cannot say.”

“Ah. Nor I.” Mr. Charlton accepted the explanation. “But it stands to reason.”

Charlton sipped his brandy in undisturbed silence for a long time before Col was tempted to break it. He had always appreciated Mr. Charlton’s frank opinion. “I understand the captain is thinking of promoting Kent to acting lieutenant in Rudge’s absence.”