Page 8 of A Sea Captain and A Stowaway (Gentleman Scholars #7)

She must have noted the change, as her face brightened considerably. “I am hungry,” she said. “If my provisions could be brought here, I could attend to my own needs and not bother you. I’m sorry to bother you, but I haven’t eaten very much and couldn’t wait much longer.”

Guilt swept through Sidney. While she was stealing from him, that didn’t make him any better by leaving her to starve.

“Sorry,” he said. “I should have thought of that, since you obviously were hiding for a couple of days now.”

“I brought crackers,” she said with a wide smile as he helped her get to her feet.

Her hand was small and cool in his, and he released it quickly once she was standing, uncomfortable with the contact. The closet was barely large enough for a few spare uniforms and his sea chest; it was no place to keep a person, no matter how inconvenient her presence might be.

“I’ll have Cook bring you something,” Sidney said, unable to meet her eyes. The gratitude in her expression made him uncomfortable, a reminder of how poorly he had treated her thus far.

“Oh, you don’t need to wait on me! If you’re going to allow me out of the closet, I’d be more than happy to help with anything that I can do. I can cook. I am quite skilled at nearly everything that goes into running a ship.”

Sidney raised an eyebrow at this claim. She was eager, he’d give her that, but the idea of a gently bred young woman having any knowledge of seafaring was absurd.

His sister Martha, for all her intelligence and capability, wouldn’t know a mainmast from a mainsail, and he doubted Miss Archer was any different.

“Like what?” Sidney asked, scoffing. “No one would bring a woman onto their ship voluntarily,” he added with a grimace.

She returned his expression with a smile rather than a frown. She was ridiculously sunny, Sidney thought, with a shake of his head and turning his back on her.

How could she maintain such a cheerful disposition after what she had been through?

Days hiding in the darkness and damp of the hold, limited food and water, the fear of discovery, and now being locked in a closet by a hostile captain — it would have broken most people’s spirits.

Yet here she was, smiling as though he had offered her afternoon tea in a London receiving room rather than grudging tolerance on a merchant vessel bound for dangerous waters.

“You can sit there and be quiet while I think,” he said, directing her to the only other chair in the room. “There are some biscuits in that cupboard,” he said, gesturing toward the ceiling.

She scrambled to open it, reaching high above her head on her tiptoes but not bothering to ask for help. She just managed to get the packet and took her seat, nibbling daintily on a biscuit while he tried to work. But of course, he couldn’t get anything done with her distracting presence.

Sidney watched her covertly as she ate, noting the careful way she handled the food, as though each crumb were precious. There was a grace to her movements that spoke of proper upbringing, confirming his earlier assessment of her background.

William Archer’s daughter, she had said. Sidney had never met the man personally, but his reputation as a fair and honest merchant was well-known in shipping circles. How had such a man’s daughter ended up in this situation?

The question nagged at him as he pretended to study the charts spread before him.

What kind of brother would treat his niece with such callous disregard for her happiness and well-being?

And what kind of man would agree to marry a woman under such circumstances?

The thought of this cretin, made Sidney’s jaw clench with unexpected anger.

Sidney sighed heavily once more, shoving his hand through his hair, trying to debate which would be worse: losing a week or keeping her aboard.

Keeping her aboard meant risk — to her safety, to the mission, to the ship’s morale.

Men at sea were superstitious, and many believed a woman on board brought bad luck.

Even among those who didn’t hold such beliefs, her presence would be a distraction, potentially causing discord among the crew.

There were men like Jenks to consider, who might not respect the boundaries Sidney would set regarding her treatment.

But returning to port meant certain delay.

The tide and winds would determine exactly how long, but even in the best conditions, they would lose precious days.

Days that Blackwell might use to gain ground on them, perhaps even beating them to the treasure.

And if that happened, all their work, all their planning, would be for nothing.

And then there was Miss Archer herself to consider. If what she said was true, and despite her intrusion on his ship, Sidney found he believed her, returning her to Portsmouth would be condemning her to a fate she desperately feared.

Could he live with that knowledge? Could he face his friends, his sister, himself, knowing he had sent a young woman back to be essentially sold into marriage against her will?

“Why don’t you want to go home?” Sidney finally asked when he couldn’t ignore her any longer.

“I’d have to marry Cragswell,” she said immediately. “And Uncle Hugo will make me — or he’ll find someone else and make me marry them.”

The directness of her answer, the lack of hesitation or elaboration, convinced Sidney more than any tearful plea might have done. This wasn’t a tale spun to gain his sympathy; it was a simple statement of fact, delivered with the resignation of someone who had accepted a hard truth.

“What does your other family say?”

“There is no other family,” Docila replied immediately.

That, too, rang with the truth of lived experience.

No one to turn to, no refuge to seek. Sidney knew something of that isolation himself, though his circumstances had been far less dire.

When he had chosen the sea over the life his parents had planned for him, he had faced disapproval and disappointment before they came around, but never the kind of betrayal Miss Archer had endured.

“You know it’s illegal to force a woman into marriage,” Sidney said, making conversation.

“I know that it’s likely against the law, but who’s going to enforce that?” she countered as she continued to slowly devour the biscuit.

Sidney couldn’t help watching in fascination; it was as though she were trying to preserve the biscuits while also being unable to stop eating as much as possible.

She very steadily and slowly ate one, but before she could eat another, she closed the package and put it aside, literally turning her back on it.

Her restraint was remarkable, another indication of the desperate circumstances she had fled. She had learned to make every morsel last, to deny herself even when food was available. It was the behaviour of someone who had lived with genuine hunger, not merely missed a meal or two.

Sidney frowned.

“How much food did you pack?” he asked. “And when’s the last time you ate?”

“I was preserving my supplies. I was uncertain how long I could hide before being discovered, so I wanted everything to last as long as possible.”

“You didn’t really answer my question,” Sidney prodded.

She lifted a small shoulder.

“Can’t really answer that question,” she said. “I lost track of time being in the dark. Fairly certain we’ve been at sea for three days, and I have eaten every day. So, you needn’t fret about me. It may not have been a great deal of food, but I did keep myself sustained to a certain extent.”

“And yet here you are asking for biscuits and then only eating one,” he said. “Do you have some sort of strange mental disorder?”

This prompted a tinkling laugh out of the girl.

“No, Captain, I do not have any sort of disorder. But I do thank you for your concern — and for the biscuits,” she added with another laugh.

Her laughter caught him off guard, a bright, unexpected sound in the seriousness of their conversation.

It transformed her face, bringing colour to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes that had been dulled by exhaustion.

For a moment, Sidney glimpsed the young woman she might be under normal circumstances — spirited, quick-witted, perhaps even charming.

The thought unsettled him. It was easier to think of her as a problem to be solved, an obstacle to be overcome, rather than as a flesh-and-blood woman with fears and hopes and a laugh that seemed to brighten the dim cabin.

Sidney sighed heavily once more.

“I really need to take you back,” he said, disappointment weighing his shoulders down, but then shock lifted his head as the sunny dispositioned young woman was replaced with a veritable storm.

“You cannot take me back! I will not go back! You cannot take me back!” she pleaded.

“Please, I beg of you. If you hate having me aboard this badly, just throw me overboard or put in at the next port you can find. But, you simply cannot take me back,” she said, her tone so desperate that Sidney frowned.

The transformation was startling.

Gone was the composed, almost cheerful young woman, replaced by one whose fear was so palpable it seemed to fill the small cabin.

Her hands trembled, her eyes wide with genuine terror.

This wasn’t the reaction of someone facing mere inconvenience or disapproval; this was the response of someone confronting true danger.

“What was so terrible about this this suitor that you would be willing to swim with the fishes?”