by Ann Chaney
A timid knock on the door broke through the tension in the cabin. She’d never been as happy for an interruption as she was at that moment.
“Enter,” Richard growled over his shoulder.
The cabin boy from earlier stood in the doorway with wide eyes and a small pot in his hand.
She nudged Richard. She knew enough to know she should refrain from speaking to keep her disguise in place.
Richard glowered at her but did smile at the boy. “Come in. What do you have there?”
“Joseph thought you would like a cup of tea. Nuncheon’s not for another two hours.” The boy took the tiniest of steps into the room. His fear of her was written all over his face as he looked from her to Richard.
He finally made his way to stand in front of her. She extended her hand and tried to smile again. “Hello, if I tell you a secret will keep my confidence?”
The little boy nodded. “You mean, about you being a lady in a lad’s clothes?”
Her laughter bubbled up without thought of being discovered. “Yes, I see you are very smart lad to figure that out.”
“I heard the Cap’n tell your friend.” His eyes grew wider at his confession. “I didna’ mean to. I was there to clean his cabin. They came in and I hid.” He looked back at Richard again before continuing. “I told ol’ Joseph. He’s our cook. He says womenfolk are bad luck on a ship. Probabl’ go down in this storm before we ever make the Bay because you are aboard. Better luck with the fishes, he says than with womenfolk. Says we will all end up in Kingdom Come.” The lad frowned in confusion. “Where is Kingdom Come?”
Serena bit her lip to keep another laugh at bay. She schooled her face to the same seriousness as the boy’s before answering, “Kingdom Come is Heaven. Have you ever heard of Heaven?”
“Oh yes, milady…um…sir, the place with streets of gold.”
She nodded. He broke into a grin filled with pleasure at his correct response.
She stood and extended her hand. “Sir, I would like to introduce myself. I am Lady Serena Preston. And my friend is Lord Richard Weatherington.”
The child wiped his hand on his britches and first took hold of her hand then turned to take Richard’s hand as well. He had a firm handshake. It would seem the cook or someone was tutoring the boy in the ways of the world.
“Me name is Samuel Pickins, but the crew calls me Sammie.”
“Very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Pickins. May I call you Samuel?”
The boy grinned big. “Please, miss, that would be the most wonderful sound to hear. Me true name on a lady’s lips. The captain calls me that but doesn’t sound as pretty as when you do.”
Serena wagged her finger at him. “You, young man will win many a heart with such charm.”
Samuel’s face lit up with a glow or respect. “Lady Serena, you are filled to the brim with smarts, ain’t you?”
“No, Samuel, I ain’t nearly as smart as you or I would not be in the mess I am in at this moment. I would be back in London with…”
She could not go on because the truth was there was no one in London save Aunt Philly to go home to. There’d not been anyone since Thorne left for Portugal the summer before. She patted the little boy on the back. They were the same in some ways. Orphans, for all intents and purposes.
Samuel did not leave them, but explained they were his charges until the ship docked in Lisbon. He left without explanation and returned with his sleeping mat and laid it down on the floor. He sat on his pallet and told them all about his life on the ship. She wanted to ask if there was any family waiting for him. A quick look at Richard told her to let the boy be.
When the ship’s bell sounded, Samuel ran off again. He returned with a sack containing two metal plates, spoons, bread and a bottle of something. He also carried a miniature cooking pot. He pulled two mugs from his jacket pockets. The pot contained a tasty stew and the bottle, apple cider.
Silence reigned in the tiny cabin as she and Richard wolfed down their food. Serena did not think she had ever eaten food that tasted so good.
Thus, was the routine for their meals for the next three days until the ship docked after midnight in Lisbon. Samuel told them of privateers and the battles to overtake the ship. She had never laughed as she did at the boy’s tales. He could devise the most humorous observations or questions. Richard remained with them but kept his distance.
Morning dawned with a bright sun shining through the narrow porthole. A quick look downward verified their bunkmate was off fetching their breakfast. Another look upward confirmed she was alone. Best see to her needs before either of her companions returned.
Serena finished her toilette a few moments before there was a knock on the door. “Enter.” Sammie entered the cabin balancing his tray with one hand. All his attention on carrying the tray without dropping it. A metal pot with steam rising from its spout, two tin cups, and a plate with two bread slices and a wedge of cheese. Serena reached over and helped him place the tray on her bunk.
“Lady Serena… ol’ Joseph says you are to eat all the bread and cheese and drink all the tea. His lordship broke his fast in the galley with the captain. I already ate. Joseph told me to not take a morsel from your tray. Captain says my duty to you is done. I have to help above decks this morning.”
Richard opened the door and entered. “Sammie, good of you to take care of our friend. I wondered if you would be too busy with the docking to do so.”
The boy grinned from ear to ear. “I bid you farewell and safe travels, sir. I know Lady Serena will be in safe hands with you at her side.”
Richard laughed. “Well, let’s hope I can keep our friend out of mischief.”
“Sammie? Where’s that boy?”
The lad threw himself into Serena’s arms, hugged her for all he was worth, and ran out of the cabin. She reached into her pocket and fished out her handkerchief. She wiped her cheeks before giving her nose a good blow. The little angel had stolen her heart.
Richard cleared his throat and handed her valise to her. “Remember, you’re a man. Walk straighter and don’t sway your hips side to side. The last thing we need is for a dock full of the dregs of the world’s population realizing they have a comely miss nearby.”
“Oh Richard, you’ve never said my looks were pleasing. That’s so sweet of you.”
“Don’t get used to it. Soon enough we’ll be fighting again. You bring out my ire more quickly than anyone else I know.”
Chapter 13
Lisbon, Portugal
Percy Arnold watched Weatherington from among the coils of rope and crates of supplies on the foredeck. In London, he’d killed a dockworker and taken his clothes in order to slip into the line of crew toting crates up the gangway of the prime minister’s corsair. Stowing away had been the easy part of his plan. Finding Richard Weatherington on board the next day was a wrinkle he had not foreseen.
The irony of his choice of conveyance made him laugh. The prime minister’s corsair, indeed. Too bad no one would ever know of his brilliant escape. He rather enjoyed the idea he could pull Whitehall’s strings. Weatherington stood in the center of the deck looking out over Lisbon. He’d heard the fellow was afraid of heights. The blatant trepidation on the man’s face confirmed he was afraid of something. He’d bide his time before killing Moreham’s man. Better to see what he was up to. Weatherington’s presence could have nothing to do with him.
The captain joined the spy and the two men spoke in soft voices. Arnold didn’t care what they were saying. Weatherington would not be alive much longer to be a threat. On his previous visits, Percy had frequented a tavern known for its rough clientele. He’d befriended those men who for a few coins would take care of Weatherington. All he had to do was lead the way to the taverna near the consulate where his friends spent their days. The viscount would end up floating face down in the Tagus for the fishes to feast upon.
The first mate called for the crew to off load the cargo. He would be long gone before Weatherington dis
embarked. More than enough time to arrange for the viscount’s untimely death. Everyone knew how dangerous the streets of Lisbon were.
Richard stood well back from the railing and stared out at the city nestled in the foothills. The docks were alive with workers unloading the ships moored alongside. The area was a sea of humanity. The stevedores moved about in a chaotic flow that reminded him of a ballet performance. Each man knew his role and moved adroitly avoiding collisions and delivering cargo to its destination.
The back and forth swaying of the crowd eased his mind about how high he was situated so he could look down in the crowd searching for Arnold. He scanned the faces below to no avail. Not that he thought he would see the man. The fellow who had orchestrated his own escape in London was too smart to be caught out in the open.
Captain Fleming joined him at the railing, calling orders out to the first mate to secure the lines. “We will wait for your return. Today, I will send half of the crew ashore. The other half will go in two days. Such an occurrence is unusual for them. They will enjoy the respite…and the entertainments Lisbon has to offer. We can sail within a moment’s notice even if we have to leave some of the crew behind. I am used to sailing light on crew, there are always one or two who are too jug-bitten to find the ship. Good luck.” With a curt nod, the captain shook his hand before sauntering off.
Shouts from the dockside coupled with the crew’s own warnings alerted him of the gangplank’s journey to land punctuated by creaking planks as the walkway rose through the air to land with a resounding thud on the dock in a cloud of dirt. The crew cheered.
Serena appeared at his side. Fully dressed in her brother’s castoffs, even he had to search for any sign of her femininity. When this adventure was over, he was going to have a long talk with the Earl of Burley. It was past time for Serena to marry some lackluster gentleman and set up housekeeping at some country estate.
That thought soured his stomach. No man was good enough to take her to wife. He’d do the right thing when this business with Arnold and Wellington was over. No doubt, Thorne would demand they marry before leaving for home. That thought eased his unsettled insides a bit. Thorne would be the ogre in this fairy tale. His best friend wouldn’t care if either of them professed love. He started for an instant. Did she love him?
Serena followed Richard down the gangplank and onto the dirt packed thoroughfare where a fetid mob of dockworkers shoved her this way and that as they hurried past. Richard pushed his way through the crowd without regard to her or anyone else around them.
She had no choice. If she dawdled, she’d lose him. She intended to cling to the man for all she was worth until they returned to London. She might be stubborn to a fault, but even she knew when she was out of her depth.
Woolgathering, she almost fell when Richard spun around and grabbed her arm. He pulled her along until they were free of the crowd.
“You must remain aware of our surroundings. Arnold can appear in an instant. You’ll never know he’s there. A quick slash with his knife will put a period to your life. You’ll be swallowed up in this mass of humanity.”
“What about you? He will want to be rid of you more than me,” she retorted. “He will dismiss me as a nuisance, not worth the trouble to kill.”
She wanted to bite off her tongue. Challenging him so was not how one gained support from another. Her best way out was to remain with him.
Before she could offer her apology, Richard continued, “I have a room waiting at a taverna closer to the consulate. We need a few moments to take stock of our surroundings. Watch for Arnold. We don’t know where he is. At sea or here already? He may have had to stowaway on a ship that didn’t sail until after we did or perhaps one of his wealthy friends arranged transport for him. Enough supposition about the man. Come on, we haven’t much farther to go.”
With those words, Richard headed off down the street. True to his word, they were soon on a wide street with a row of trees running down the middle to provide a clear direction for those coming and going.
Richard called to her over his shoulder. “The taverna on the right, just ahead.”
Serena relaxed as they approached the nondescript inn. From the outside, the establishment looked like every other building they’d passed since leaving the ship. This building actually had a door where most of the other places had a gaping hole for an entrance that opened straight onto the street. She pulled her shoulders closer to her neck and walked in Richard’s footsteps. Better to appear subservient than be recognized as a woman.
A man dressed in a stained apron who she assumed was the innkeeper opened his arms in welcome to Richard. Richard responded to the man. If she thought Richard didn’t know her, it was clear now that she knew little about him. He spoke Portuguese like a native. When had he learned the language? Perhaps he hadn’t been prancing around the ballrooms of Europe after all. Moreham’s admonition that nothing was as it seemed rang true where Richard was concerned.
Serena looked around the barroom where men sat on stools at a handful of tables. The mood was jovial. The source of the festive atmosphere was a young brown-skinned serving girl. Serena watched the girl making promises with her eyes as she moved from table to table.
The girl did so until she saw Richard. Little more than a child, the girl squealed and ran across the room to throw her arms around Richard’s neck and kiss him. To her horror, he kissed the waif back!
Serena was stunned by their blatant display. Who was this child? What was she to Richard? Did the scoundrel have a woman at his beck and call everywhere he went? She hadn’t forgotten about Miss Maynard. She’d heard about actresses and opera dancers. As for serving girls, everyone knew what happened in English taverns and inns. Without a doubt the same could be said of such establishments in every other country in the world.
She watched Richard smile at the girl. He never smiled at her like that. The girl slid a finger along the neckline of her dress, no doubt, to give him a better view. When Richard’s smile grew larger, Serena raised her valise a fraction intent on throwing the bag at his head. In that moment, Richard took the girl by the shoulders turning around. He delivered a quick slap on her bottom and sent her back to deal with her customers.
Richard handed the tavern owner a couple of coins and waved for her to follow. He headed up the stairs by the entrance. She looked back into the barroom and realized no one paid them any mind.
Using the large metal key, the innkeeper gave him, Richard opened a door on the street side of the building. She followed him into a bedchamber with a table and four wooden chairs by a small fireplace.
“No need to burst out of your stays. The girl means nothing. She’s enthusiastic.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“The innkeeper is her father. I arranged for him to purchase the taverna a couple of years ago. He is an honest man who Whitehall trusts. Consider this as safe as Moreham’s dower house.”
“Need I remind you that Arnold escaped from that house?”
“True. As for us, we need to talk. Can’t have that discussion on the street,” Richard said as he peered out the window to the street below. “Although I find your jealousy entertaining, there’s no need for you to be jealous of the girl. She’s harmless.”
Serena picked up an earthenware candlestick and threw it at his head. “I’m not jealous.”
Richard caught the heavy object with one hand and laughed. “See, you make my point. Throwing projectiles at my head is the action of a jealous woman. I can say this with authority since you are not the first woman to vent her anger in my direction.”
She tried to think of a clever reply that would put him in his place but failed. The dratted man!
Richard wished they could continue parrying back and forth, but he needed to work out how they would approach the consulate before siesta. They needed the roiling crowd to hide them on the streets. Most of the populace would decamp to their dwellings for siesta during the heat of the day. The crowd outside was
their only hope to arrive at the consulate without incident. He could feel Arnold’s presence. His prey knew Lisbon as well as he did. He Had friends here as well. Friends who would kill them for a few coins.
“What are you looking for? Arnold? You’ll never see him in that crowd.” Serena joined him at the window.
He kept his eyes on the street below. “I assume Lady Philly forged a letter of introduction for you to present at the consulate.”
“I have papers.”
“I need to see the documents. We are in a country at war. Everyone carries papers. The authorities are always looking for counterfeit papers. I’m certain Lady Philly stays abreast with all the requirements for travel authorizations, but one can never be too careful.”
She pulled out Richard’s old wallet and handed it to him. The sight of his family crest etched into the leather only proved what he had said earlier. Trouble. He removed the papers and canted the pages toward the window so he could make out Lady Philly’s spidery writing.
The lady had indeed done her usual fine work. The old girl had a delicate hand with signatures. The most impressive document was the writ of authority with Sir Perceval’s signature. The travel documents for Herbert looked like the real thing. No one would question the authenticity.
“Nice touch forging Perceval’s signature on this writ. The old girl hasn’t lost her touch. May come in handy at the consulate if we have difficulty in procuring horses and supplies. Lady Philly does have a sense of humor, doesn’t she, Herbert?” He chuckled at Serena’s glower and the distinctive sound of her teeth grinding against each other. “You have to admit, it is funny.”
“Richard, the papers? Do we have what we need?”
“My dear, you have the authority of old King George himself. When he is himself that is.”
He refolded each document and returned all the pages to his old battered wallet. He fitted the wallet in his jacket pocket. It was time to get down to business.