No Rest for the Wicked

Chapter 2

2

Roberta Harcourt leaned on the railing of the royal navy merchant ship, the Fortune, scowling at the rolling blue sea before her. She loved the ocean, but she did not love the reason she was crossing it.

Her father, Rear Admiral Charles Harcourt, was moving to Port Royal to run a naval office from the port, and she was being dragged along with him. It wasn’t that she disliked Port Royal—she’d always longed to visit the West Indies. But she was quite certain her father had dubious intentions upon his mind when he’d decided she was to come with him rather than remain in London.

She’d spent the last two weeks listening to him describe the eligible, titled men whom they would likely meet upon reaching Port Royal. The list of gentlemen and their estate holdings had nearly put Roberta to sleep the previous evening. She’d caught herself just before her face landed in a bowl of soup. The cabin boy attending them had snickered, and she’d almost joined in laughing at herself, but her father’s stern glare had killed any amusement from the moment. The truth of the matter was, she was being put on the market like a prized cow.

“Roberta, my dear,” her father greeted as he joined her at the ship’s railing. “I should like to speak to you.”

“Papa,” she answered quietly. “If it’s about last night, I was tired. The crossing has been more than I’m used to, with the tossing waves.” That part was most certainly a lie. She’d slept quite soundly; the rocking of the sea was something she’d grown used to. Her mother had died when she was five, and her father, unsure what to do with his dearly loved child yet couldn’t abandon her to a governess’s care, had simply taken her and the governess along with him on every voyage. She had better sea legs than half his crew.

“Oh no, it isn’t that, my dear. But there is something important that I must speak to you about. I’ve just spoken to Captain Huntington, and he’s requested a private audience with you. I believe the captain has finally worked up the courage to ask for your hand in marriage. I’ve assured him that you will be most receptive, and I have given him my blessing.” Her father’s chest puffed out with pride. At fifty-nine he was still a handsome man, even if out of his prime, but there was a weariness to his face that showed his time at sea and his years as a single father were weighing heavily upon him.

“I…Papa, I really don’t…”

“Please, Roberta, think of it. A captain for a son-in-law. I would be most proud of you. You would travel the world with him as you’ve done with me. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

She wished she could agree, but she knew what her father did not—that most men loathed to take their wives or daughters upon voyages or move them to foreign lands. No, they kept their wives in pretty cages at home in London whilst they conducted affairs far away. That was not a fate she wished to resign herself to.

Her father’s scrutiny fell upon her, and he sighed heavily. “You truly don’t like him?”

“I don’t dislike him, Papa. But he’s like all the other gentlemen I’ve met—pompous and arrogant in their belief that a woman is incapable of anything besides twittering about gowns and producing children. I don’t believe he would even let me stay with him aboard ship.”

Her father suddenly chuckled. “I saw you only yesterday twittering about the very gown you’re wearing now. You love a pretty dress as any other lady does, and you’ve told me often that you wish for children.”

“But that isn’t all that I am, Papa. I’ve helped fix the navigational charts when your navigator was ill. I know more about loading guns on a ship than most cabin boys learn in their first few years. I can tie any knot just as well as your men. I can name all of His Majesty’s ships of the line—”

“I yield, my dear, I yield.” Charles laughed softly. “I cannot help but fear I’ve put you at a great disadvantage by letting you live as freely as you have, if the idea of marrying Captain Huntington has frightened you so.”

Roberta wanted to disagree, to argue that she wasn’t afraid of Captain Huntington or his marriage proposal, but she was frightened. It would mean the end of everything that mattered in her life.

“Very well, then. Hear the man out and then let him down gently.” Her father patted her cheek, his eyes twinkling. “I believe we may yet find a husband for you in Port Royal. A good tea planter, perhaps? Or a successful merchantman who does business in England? Those sort of men might be more open to a wife involved in their affairs. I shan’t give up hope to see you happily wed.”

She gripped his hand and gave it a tender squeeze. “I’d rather you see me simply happy, in whatever way that may be.”

“I do, my dear, I do. But when I’m gone, you will need a force to stand between you and the wolves of this world. I owe your mother that much, God rest her.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead before walking back down the deck and vanishing inside a doorway.

And what if I am the force between myself and the world, Papa? She asked the question silently, allowing the sea to catch her thoughts as the winds buffeted her pale-blue silk skirts around her ankles. A smile escaped her lips as she thought back to how she had indeed twittered in excitement over the gown she now wore. The blue silk was gathered at the waist and flowed down over the large side pannier hoops she wore beneath her petticoats, and the bodice was a rich gold embroidered with tiny seahorses. She’d asked the seamstress to make it for the voyage. The poor woman had stared at the sketches of the marine animal and then muttered something about mad young ladies and their fancies.

Roberta glanced over her shoulder, watching men scale the riggings as they worked the ropes. So often she felt torn between the glittering world of balls and this world, the one where the winds and tides drove a person’s destiny. The crew called out orders to one another, all corresponding to the orders from the officers who stood at the back of the ship near the helm. Two men stood out more clearly, their white breeches and blue frock coats adorned with gold trim and shiny gold buttons marking them as officers.

Captain Huntington and his second in command, Lieutenant Flynn. It was uncommon for navy officers to be in charge of a ship like the Fortune, but in this case, her father had wanted a light sloop that could outrun most pirates if they encountered any. Bigger ships from the royal navy would be able to fight, but their maneuverability was slow and her father never trusted a slow ship. Thus they’d ended up with Huntington and Flynn on board a merchant ship rather than a civilian captain and his crew.

Huntington was a nice man, a polite man, handsome even. But he was forty years old, while she was barely even twenty, and those two decades between them felt more like a hundred years. She was ready to discover life, not end it, and marriage to him would be just that. She’d be pregnant within the year and never free to see the world again. Her passion for knowledge and adventure would be crushed the moment she spoke her vows.

If any man on this ship caught her interest, it was the quiet, intense Lieutenant Nicholas Flynn. He’d seen her eyeing the set of sea charts one evening after dinner and sat with her for more than an hour, showing her their course from southern England down the coast of Spain before they would set out across the Atlantic. Flynn had become a friend to her during the voyage. They’d spent many an evening talking over a glass of sherry about life at sea, the various ports they’d both visited, and the latest updates on the maps provided to the Royal Navy.

His stormy blue eyes and dark-blond hair, accompanied by his classically handsome features, were accented by his patient manner and his quiet, unspoken interest in her. Yet there was a sorrow in his eyes that seemed to create a chasm between them, as though he was afraid to let anyone get close to him, even her. But they had become friends during the long voyage, much to Captain Huntington displeasure.

She turned her focus back to the sea, a mistress she loved, respected, and feared at the appropriate times. The water was that spectacular shade of blue that prevented her from seeing deeper than a few feet, yet she could sense its endless depths as the ship cut through it on their voyage. The afternoon light flashed across the water’s edge where the whitecaps formed, sending a diamond-like spray into the air, enchanting her. She had spent hours watching the water, and she never tired of the sight.

A smudge of gray beneath the water caught her eye, and a moment later a dolphin broke through the surface. Roberta lifted the hem of her gown to climb up on the first wooden ledge to get a closer look. Her gown was in the style of a robe à la française with its sack back split into two pale-blue pleats flowing away from her shoulders in the ocean breeze. She knew if she closed her eyes, it would feel as though she could take flight upon the winds themselves.

“You look lovely today, Miss Harcourt,” Huntington said from behind her.

Her eyes shot open, and she clutched the railing securely as she stepped back down onto the deck. She continued to watch the dolphin as it broke through the surface for air and then disappeared again.

“Thank you, Captain,” she said softly.

“I had hoped you might call me Thomas now. We’ve spent much time together on the voyage. Port Royal is only a few days away.” Huntington moved to stand next to her.

“If the wind stays at our backs,” Roberta agreed.

His brown eyes gazed upon her with the slightest hint of possessive hope. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he see a petite but fiery red-haired beauty? Did he mind the faint smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks because she refused to wear hats in the sun? Or perhaps he was lost in her jade-green eyes framed by smoky dark lashes that batted slowly as she gazed at the sea. She knew she was considered a beauty by some, yet she didn’t think she was half so lovely as the fair-skinned blonde-haired women who were favored in the assembly halls of London.

Roberta was more spry than dainty, in her opinion, and the gowns she wore concealed the smooth muscles and curves of her body. She lacked that delicate, frail appearance that men seemed to desire. Her slightly tanned face had created gossip among the ton, and she knew well enough that she was called ugly names behind her back. But she supposed she was pretty enough to attract men like Huntington, with her heart-shaped face with its upturned nose and sweeping brows that made her look as if she was always up to mischief. Her father used to call her his little water sprite because she often created trouble aboard any ship she was on, usually to the amusement of the crew, proving that women weren’t all unlucky upon the sea.

“Do you like the sea?” Huntington asked. His right hand fell very lightly on her own, which rested on the smooth wooden railing.

She felt no warmth, no spark, no life; what she was looking for was simply not there. Shouldn’t there be fire or explosions of heat? She’d heard the men belowdecks talk of the passion a lady could inspire in a man’s heart and his loins—though they always phrased such things in far cruder terms. Surely it could be the same for a woman, to feel that passion at the touch of the right man? If that was so, then the captain was not the right man for her.

“I love the sea,” she replied, her gaze still plunging into the sapphire depths. How she longed to join the dolphin, to have no concerns above the water’s surface. She’d often wished that the old legends of mermaids were true and that she could trade places with a princess of the sea and never again worry about what lay on land.

“Once we marry, I can bring you with me,” he suggested.

Roberta could not hide the enthusiasm that was triggered by this idea. If she had misjudged him, she would own up to it and give him a chance to catch her interest again.

“You would let me join you?” Her face brightened in the wake of this small hope. Huntington seemed surprised that this, of all things he was willing to offer, seemed to be what excited her.

“Some captains are allowed to bring their wives…on short voyages, in safe waters,” he clarified. “A trip around the bay or up and down the coast for a day.”

Roberta deflated. “Is that all?”

Huntington straightened as he gazed upon the sea, as if remembering his duty. “It would be against protocol. It’s simply too dangerous for a delicate young lady. Surely you are more comfortable in a drawing room enjoying tea with other ladies.”

Had the captain read that from some book entitled How to Infuriate Free and Independent Women? Perhaps he had written it.

A small sigh escaped her lips. It was better to be at sea—however boring the voyage—than not at all, she supposed. For once in her life, she wished she could see a sea battle. Even the distant c***k and thunder of cannons and the haze of gun smoke on the horizon would be enough for her. She’d witnessed such things up close only in military maneuvers and gunnery drills. A real battle would be something entirely different and far more thrilling. She just wanted to live, to feel her heart racing wildly as she joined the men upon the ropes and prepared for a boarding party.

But she wasn’t a fool. A sea battle meant danger and death, and she knew just how dangerous life upon the water was. Women didn’t fare well. Pirates were notorious for r****g women before tossing their bodies overboard. There was no glory in that violence, but her heart still hammered at the thought of chasing down a pirate sloop and bringing its black-hearted crew to justice.

“I have spoken to your father, of course, and he has given his blessing. He was most excited for our marriage.”

“Captain, please, trouble yourself no further. I have decided not to marry, though I am most honored by your offer.” Better to cut him off before he can start naming our future children, she thought.

“What?” Huntington’s mouth opened in shock as he sputtered. “But…your father said…”

“My father was mistaken. He forgets how much I love the sea. If he mistook my excitement for hopes of an intended proposal from you, I’m most apologetic. But you see, I do not wish to marry.”

“Whyever not?” the captain demanded, his tone frosty now.

“Because…” She struggled for an excuse and realized there was no better one than the truth. “Because I’m simply far too much trouble, Captain Huntington. One month of marriage to me would drive you utterly mad.”

“Well…I don’t see how a pretty young lady like you could—”

“Allow me to be plain for a moment, Captain. I would insist on accompanying you on all voyages, no matter the duration. I would rather not be stuck in a parlor with other ladies. In fact, I’d rather face the gallows alongside the vilest of pirates than spend one minute listening to women gossip over tea.”

Huntington’s face began to turn a concerning shade of red. “But that’s your place. As a woman, you should—”

She cut him off again. “And that’s exactly why you and I would quarrel endlessly. I don’t believe in where you think I belong. There are plenty of young ladies who would be happy to marry you but I am not one of them.”

For a long second he stared at her, shock widening his eyes. No doubt he’d never encountered a woman who spoke her mind like that, and it would take him a minute, or possibly several, to catch up with her in order to respond.

“I hope that you don’t take offense or mistake my rejection of your offer of marriage as an attempt to play coy. I simply desire to be honest. You would not be happy with me, Captain, and I would not be with you, so we need not trouble ourselves further.”

Huntington opened his mouth to say something more, but the sharp, piercing whistle of the ship’s bosun cut him off.

“Sail to the south!” a man in the crow’s nest cried out. Suddenly the deck was swarming with men. Roberta stayed by the rail, keeping out of the way. She knew better than to disrupt the flow of the men to their stations.

“What colors does she fly?” Huntington yelled up to the man in the nest. His voice was surprisingly loud—she’d never heard him speak above a conversational tone before. The sea captain in him had taken over.

“No colors, Captain, but there is a flag,” the man shouted back down. “White with some sort of black shape on it.”

Huntington’s face paled. He glanced at Roberta before he turned his gaze southward and pulled out a brass spyglass from his breast pocket. Roberta followed the direction his spyglass was pointing. Her eyesight was good, but she could only just make out a vague rippling insignia. If she’d been closer, she might have sworn it looked like…

“The Emerald Dragon. Damn him!” Huntington hissed and crushed the spyglass back into his breast pocket. Roberta’s face was afire with excitement.

“The Emerald Dragon? The ship captained by the infamous Captain Grey?” Her heart skittered inside her chest in a mixture of excitement and fear. Huntington’s face darkened with displeasure.

“You’ve heard of him?”

“I am the daughter of a rear admiral. I hear things, even during those dreadful hours spent in parlors over tea.” She found it insulting that he assumed she didn’t know the latest naval scandals. The Dragon’s captain was the talk of Spain. He never ventured close to England—his hunting grounds were the West Indies and the coasts of Spain and Portugal. It was rumored that he was part Spanish and part English. Some said he was handsome enough that the devil himself was jealous of the pirate’s good looks. That sort of gossip had been the only thing worth listening to when she’d been trapped in the Spanish parlors before they’d left port.

“He’s no man you should put your mind to. He’s a bloody pirate.” Huntington looked as mad as a spitting cat. “Get below deck with your lady’s maid, now! And stay there. The deck is no place for a woman, especially during a battle,” Huntington snapped.

Roberta’s gaze bored into his enraged face, but at last she turned on her heel and descended below deck. Her heart was pounding so hard against her chest that it hurt to breathe. She had to find her maid and, more importantly, her pistols and her dagger. If they were boarded, she would need to defend herself and her servant.

The Emerald Dragon…it was as if by simply dreaming of pirates, she had summoned one of the fiercest since Captain Morgan.

She only hoped she would not live to regret it.