The Lady's Command (Adventurers Quartet #1)

by Stephanie Laurens

Declan raised his gaze to the stern windows, to the soft sea mist that was closing in, cutting them off from the very last sight of England. He looked down at his wife then looked back at the sea.

  He couldn’t even decide if he wanted to swear.

  CHAPTER 5

  Declan raked his hands through his hair, then halted and fixed Edwina with a frustrated, exasperated glare. “I ought to put you off at Bordeaux. Hire some guards and send you back home.”

  The look she returned—one that clearly stated she couldn’t comprehend why he was wasting time pretending—was one his mother could not have bettered. “You know perfectly well you won’t. If you’re truly concerned with my safety”—she held up a hand, forestalling his protest—“and I fully accept that you are, then, of course, you’ll keep me with you.”

  Seated in one of the visitors’ folding chairs before his desk, she calmly went back to consuming the soup Henry—on hearing she hadn’t eaten all day—had rushed to lay before her. “This is excellent soup. I expected something more along the lines of gruelly broth and hard biscuits.” With a tip of her head, she indicated the bowl placed before his admiral’s chair. “You should have yours before it grows cold.”

  Declan stared at her for several seconds, then flung up his hands. He’d been fuming and ranting for over half an hour; much good had it done him. She was determined. And he couldn’t shift her.

  Just as his father couldn’t shift his mother when she was set on some particular course. As he’d heard his father mutter more than once, sometimes females got their rudders jammed and were impossible to bring around.

  Fully aware that the action constituted a surrender of sorts, he rounded his desk and dropped into his admiral’s chair. The soup did smell appetizing. So did Edwina. Her expensive perfume, the honeysuckle and rose of her soap, and the scent of sunshine in her hair all contributed to the particular fragrance he associated with her; it teased his senses and positively lured.

  He picked up the soup spoon and addressed the less dangerous of his hungers.

  The mundane act of eating soup allowed his mind to calm, allowed him to step back and reassess. He realized there was much he didn’t know. He glanced across the cabin at the trunk in which she’d arrived. “Where did you get that?” When she glanced at him, he nodded at the trunk.

  It was new, and had small holes for ventilation neatly concealed in the ornate metal banding the upper rim. The latch-cum-lock was a neat piece of engineering; she could have released it from the inside. Given her lack of height and girth, the trunk had been large enough for her to lie comfortably; she’d made a bed of her clothes and, he gathered, had been reasonably cushioned and protected.

  “A luggage maker in Long Acre has been supplying the Ridgware household for years. He was quite taken with the challenge. He already had the trunk made up, so he only had to put in the breathing holes and replace the latch.”

  “When did you arrange all this?”

  “This morning. I left the house immediately after you did and went to Long Acre.”

  He frowned. “And the staff just waved you off?”

  “They knew nothing of my plans, but you needn’t worry. I left letters for Humphrey and Mrs. King, and also for my mother, sisters, and brother, so everyone knows I went to Southampton to sail with you.”

  So she’d covered her tracks—and, he suspected, his opposition—completely.

  A tap on the door heralded Henry, followed by both cabin boys—Ginger and Cam—bearing the rest of a substantial meal.

  Declan sat back and allowed Henry to clear the soup plates and lay out the next course. He normally ate with his crew in the galley, but occasionally, usually when in port, he had reason to entertain dignitaries; Henry had broken out the good china and wine goblets. Fleetingly, Declan wondered what his crew thought of Edwina’s presence, of her stowing away. If the bright eyes and beaming smiles of Henry and the boys as they responded to her comments and praise were any guide, his hardened crew would be no match for a duke’s daughter taught from the cradle to charm.

  In dealing with others, he’d yet to see her stumble, and he doubted she would do so now. She seemed to have a sixth sense over how to connect with others, how to induce them to view her as a friend and confidante through just a few minutes of innocent conversation. More, those she so effortlessly drew to her seemed bespelled into wanting to please her.

  When Henry and the boys withdrew, her gracious thanks apparently making their day, Declan picked up the decanter, poured wine into both their goblets, then sat back and sipped.

  Edwina picked up her cutlery and started to eat. He studied her expression; he could almost see her shaping the questions with which she would all too soon start to pepper him.

  Setting his goblet down, he picked up his knife and fork, cut into the prime roast beef, and turned his mind to the question of what now?

  And discovered that an unnerving, distinctly unexpected idea had already taken root in his brain and was growing.

  After a moment, without looking up, he said, “You’re not going to go home, are you? Even if a ship and captain I trust were to pass us going the other way, you won’t consent to change ships and go back.”

  She didn’t look up from her plate either; she just shook her head. “No.” She paused, then went on, “I came to share this voyage with you. To learn about and share your business life, to learn how I can contribute to it. I can’t do that in London.”

  When he didn’t respond, she glanced at him; he felt her gaze like a touch on his face. But then she looked down at her plate again.

  After a moment, she ventured, “I know you might not yet understand this, but my traveling with you is important—to me, to us. Most definitely to our marriage. I might not be able to travel with you always, but whenever I can, I need to do so.”

  He raised his gaze in time to see her lightly shrug.

  “This voyage is your first since we wed, and as you said it didn’t involve any real danger—” A second passed, then she looked up and met his eyes. “Is that true? That there is no real danger? Or did you just say that to assuage my wifely fears?”

  He held her gaze for a heartbeat, then fleetingly grimaced. “What I told you was a reasonable assessment. It’s unlikely there will be any real danger involved—but, of course, danger is always a possibility.”

  She studied his eyes. A frown slowly formed in hers. “What is the purpose of this voyage? I can’t recall you ever mentioning that.”

  He looked into her blue eyes—and the unexpected, distinctly unconventional idea that had bloomed in his brain took on form and shape.

  Why not? The question reverberated through his brain. Unconventional it might be, but the Frobishers were the definition of unconventional, and her family could give his lessons.

  There would be risks involved, true, but he could ensure they remained minimal, and the potential gains could be enormous.

  He was an adventurer at heart—who knew the heart had adventures all its own? He certainly hadn’t, but if any man was going to take such a plunge, surely it should be him.

  Apparently sensing he was debating some major decision, she’d waited, patient and watchful. Even when the silence continued to stretch, she didn’t prod.

  “What I am about to tell you is in the nature of a trade secret.” His gaze unwaveringly locked on her face, he told her of the Frobishers’ relationship with the Crown.

  Unsurprisingly, she found it intriguing. Even exciting. Eyes alight, she asked, “So this voyage?”

  “Is not about trade.” In broad strokes, he outlined his mission. While one tiny part of his mind gabbled in horror, aghast at what he was doing, most of his conscious mind and all of his instinctive self were now fully committed to his new direction.

  He’d been separated from her for no more than a few hours before he’d realized he needed to change the tack he’d assumed was the correct one for their marriage. Through her reaction to Wolverstone’s urgent need of his services, she�
�d opened up a new route; his adventurer’s soul was always ready to explore unexpected paths simply to see where they led.

  In this case, on several levels, the gains could be significant.

  By the time Henry and the boys returned to clear the main course and lay out a cheese board, fruit, and nuts, Declan had divulged all he’d learned of the situation in Freetown.

  Aware of the change in the way the ship was riding, he glanced at Henry. “Who has the helm?”

  “Master Johnson.”

  Declan nodded. “Tell him I’ll be up later to review the sails.”

  “Aye, Capt’n.”

  Edwina waited only until the door closed behind Henry to ask, “What do you know of the people—Governor Holbrook, Major Eldridge, and Vice-Admiral Decker?”

  He was unsure what she was asking and let that show.

  She looked at him as if her tack should be obvious. “Are they married? Are their wives with them? What sort of men are they?”

  Ah. “Holbrook is typical enough for a governor—a genial man, but bureaucratic at heart, very much given to dotting i’s and crossing t’s. He’s married—governors generally are—and I believe his wife is by his side in Freetown. I’ve only met Holbrook once, at a gentlemen-only business dinner—I’ve never met his wife.”

  “You haven’t heard anything about her?”

  He met her gaze. “Men don’t usually gossip about other men’s wives—certainly not at business dinners.”

  She arched her brows. “How odd. Women gossip about their husbands and other women’s husbands all the time.”

  He snorted, then refocused and continued, “I don’t believe I’ve ever met Eldridge—he wasn’t there, or at least not in charge, the last time I was in Freetown. As for Vice-Admiral Decker, he’s not married and is a rigid old stick, but I know of nothing against him, any more than the others. Decker knows me and the family—he disapproves of us, although I gather that has more to do with him disapproving of those he considers dilettantes having better-equipped ships than the navy.”

  He paused, then went on, “Regardless, I doubt we’ll run into Decker while we’re there, and I’m going to do my best to avoid Eldridge, too.”

  “Because Wolverstone and Melville don’t trust them?”

  “In part. But given we’ll be in Freetown for only a few days, there’s no reason to invite Decker’s or Eldridge’s notice. No need for us to take any unnecessary risks. Holbrook, unfortunately, we can’t avoid. His office will be informed immediately we enter the port. Unless we’re there for less than a day, we’d be wise to call—if we don’t, we’re likely to attract more interest.”

  Edwina nibbled on a fig and allowed herself a moment to wallow in what was transforming into a significant victory, and to appreciate how very pleased she was. She supposed she was technically a stowaway, but after his initial shock and inevitable rant, Declan had calmed and accepted the situation she’d created, taken the bit between his teeth, and moved forward. He’d tacitly acquiesced to her continuing presence and taken her into his confidence over what was afoot—to her, that stood as a major triumph. Even more, to her very real delight, this wasn’t simply a boring business trip but a secret mission for the Crown.

  She could barely believe her luck. She’d always wanted to have an adventure, and this was shaping up to be simply perfect—exotic, intriguing, but unlikely to be physically dangerous and, best of all, with her husband as her partner.

  The entire situation was beyond perfect in terms of forging the sort of relationship she’d set her heart upon.

  Turning her mind to that task, she mused, “Is there…well, society in Freetown?” She met Declan’s eyes. “Do the ladies gather together and have teas, and host dinners, and so on?”

  He arched his brows. “I don’t really know, but I assume they do. There’s certainly little other entertainment to be had in the settlement.”

  “In that case, I think we can be certain that there will be a social circle operating.”

  “Why is that significant?”

  She blinked at him. “Because if gentlemen have gone missing—from the army, navy, and most recently from the governor’s office—then the ladies are sure to know something. Or, at least, have opinions. And, of course, once I convey that I’m bored and looking for distraction, they’ll fall over themselves to regale me with every last bit of gossip.”

  Frowning, he studied her. “How can you be sure they’ll be so accommodating?”

  She grinned. “I’m a duke’s daughter. I seriously doubt there are many such rattling around Freetown.”

  His brows flew as he considered that, then he acknowledged the point with a tip of his head. Relaxed now, asprawl in his admiral’s chair, he popped a nut into his mouth and chewed. Then he swallowed and refocused on her. “I’ve been wondering how to explain my appearance in Freetown to Holbrook. And indeed, all the others, given The Cormorant isn’t exactly a vessel one can hide. Once they spot her in the harbor, many there will know I’m in town—and the first question to arise in everyone’s minds will be why. Normally, the answer would be business—some specific cargo or some deal to be negotiated. But given how small the business community there is, it won’t take long for people to ask around and realize that nothing’s been arranged and no one’s expecting me. If I then start asking questions about the missing men…” He shook his head. “I need a believable tale to excuse my—our—presence.”

  Holding his gaze, she arched her brows. “Easy enough, I would think—now that it’s our presence and not just yours.”

  His lips twitched, but his gaze remained steady on hers. “Now that you’re here, and given we still qualify as newlyweds, we could say this is a part of our honeymoon.”

  She nodded and asked, “Where are we planning on sailing on this honeymoon voyage of ours? And why have we chosen to stop at Freetown—which, from your description, isn’t the sort of place a couple looking for romantic moments would go?”

  “No, indeed. But if we were sailing to Cape Town—perhaps to visit some connection of your family there—then if I’d heard some rumor about, for instance, some new gold strike outside Freetown, then, given we were already passing, no one would be surprised if we put into the harbor for a few days for me to investigate that rumor.” He thought, then nodded. “Rumors abound on the London docks, so that, I think, would pass muster quite nicely.”

  “You’ll still need to be careful over asking questions about those four men.”

  “True. But if we’re passing through on our honeymoon, then it’s not such an oddity if I think to look up some gentleman I know, perhaps from school or university—perhaps to pass on a message from his family, or even in pursuit of my rumor.” He raised his goblet and sipped, then looked at her. “You’ll still need to avoid asking about the gentlemen—it would be odd if we both were known to be asking about the same men.”

  Cradling her goblet, she shook her head. “I don’t plan to ask at all. I won’t have to. If gentlemen have disappeared, then I’m sure that will feature in the local gossip, and if I manage things correctly, the Freetown ladies will readily volunteer everything they know.”

  She could see in his eyes that he doubted the ladies would know anything to the point, but the proof would be in the pudding, and if his underestimating the power of local gossip circles allowed him to more readily accept her pursuing that source, so be it.

  They each took a sip of the remarkably pleasant wine.

  In the silence that followed, one not entirely free of tension, she sensed he was, if no longer ambivalent, then not yet entirely at ease over her presence on this voyage—as if he was still gaining his sea-legs where she was concerned. As if he was still a trifle off balance and unsure of his footing. In all honesty, she felt the same; she’d forced the issue, and now the die was cast, and her joining him on this voyage-cum-secret mission could not be changed, they each needed to adjust to the new situation.

  Despite her determination to press her point and
join him on the journey, she hadn’t, in her heart, been certain how he would respond. She’d hoped, but she hadn’t known. She’d tried not to think about it—about the possibility that he might not respond as she wished—but beneath her driving confidence, she’d been just a little trepidatious.

  She needn’t have feared. After that initial eruption, he’d come around and, indeed, had gone much further than she had hoped. Then again, she hadn’t known about his secret mission.

  He drained his goblet, then glanced at hers, still cradled between her hands. “I need to go on deck. Would you prefer to stay here or…?”

  She brightened and set down the goblet. “I would love to get some fresh air.”

  He snorted and rose. “It’ll be chilly, what with the wind. You’ll need a shawl—a warm one if you’ve packed one.”

  “As it happens, I did.” She rose and crossed to her trunk.

  He followed and opened the heavy lid for her, then held it while she rummaged. “I still can’t quite believe you did that—stowed away in a trunk.”

  She found her knitted shawl and straightened, shaking out the folds. “It was the only way I could think of to get onto your ship without having to involve anyone else.”

  He lowered the lid. As she flicked the shawl about her shoulders, she asked, “What about a bonnet?”

  He met her gaze. “Not unless you want to lose it. We’ll shortly be passing into the Atlantic, and the winds will pick up.” He waited while she knotted the shawl, then held out a hand. “Are you game, Mrs. Frobisher?”

  She slipped her fingers into his and beamed. “If you’re involved, dear husband, always.”

  He tried to keep a straight face, but failed. Instead, he shook his head at her, then led her to the door, opened it, and ushered her through.

  * * *

  Edwina decided that the deck of a ship like The Cormorant was an exhilarating place to be.

  Together with Declan, she’d completed a circuit of the main deck, during which he’d made known to her all the ship’s crew they’d encountered. Finally, they’d climbed to where the huge wheel stood, and he’d introduced the ship’s master, Mr. Johnson, then relieved the master navigator of the wheel.