Page 47 of Across the Star-Kissed Sea (Proper Romance Regency #1)

Elias

S hips! Ships!”

I nearly dropped the teacup I’d been holding to my lips as the shout echoed down the length of the Marianne .

Captain Peyton handed his cup to the nearest midshipman, who fumbled with it.

The captain leaped nimbly down the steps from the quarterdeck.

“Kingdon, my telescope. McDaniel, fetch Lieutenant Roddam.” He barked orders to the mids as he went.

The young men, some just boys, scurried to their assignments.

At last. We’d only just breakfasted, but everyone aboard had been pacing.

We all knew the battle was nigh, but not knowing when it would catch us had put the whole crew on edge.

I handed my cup and saucer to the midshipman who was taking the captain’s below and followed Peyton forward, fishing my notebook and pencil from my pocket.

I slid out my watch. Just after nine o’clock.

My fingers responded stiffly as I made note.

Though I couldn’t yet feel the fear through my hollowness, my body had already started to react.

I positioned myself to Captain Peyton’s right as he observed the little white dots on the horizon.

“Four,” he muttered. “And one is flying the tricolore . French, no doubt about it.”

I rested my book on the rail and scribbled rapidly.

“Did we find them?” Lieutenant Roddam bounded up to us.

“Signal the Alceste .” A flicker of excitement lit the captain’s eye. “We’ve a chase on our hands.”

The lieutenant nodded once. “Beat to quarters, sir?”

“Without delay.” He kept his focus on the enemy ships, and the lieutenant hurried away. I noted the time he’d given the orders. The captain lowered his telescope slightly. “I need you with me, Doswell.”

My throat tightened. “Yes, sir.”

“We’re taking a prize today, and I will not allow the men to be cheated out of their rightful earnings. I need your record.”

“I serve at the pleasure of my captain.” I’d try to be useful, something I rarely was on this ship.

“You’re a good man, Doswell.” He clapped me on the shoulder in his usual way. “Would you tell étienne he’ll have to do without you today?” He lowered his voice. “It might be a busy one.”

Drums erupted, their furious beat ringing in my skull.

The ship came alive with men moving unnecessary objects below.

I crossed under the shadows of our sails, all of which had been set since Lieutenant McDougall had given us the news last evening that the Frenchmen were forty miles south.

To have found them so early in the day was a blessing—if all went well, we wouldn’t have to chase through the night.

I entered a wave of seamen descending through the hatchway.

I couldn’t think about what had been asked of me.

Captain Peyton needed me, and as a member of his crew, I needed to follow orders.

I should have had a queasy stomach at the thought of standing on the quarterdeck again during battle, but I didn’t.

An unfamiliar numbness overtook me when I usually met fear in these moments.

On the gun deck, men were opening ports and stowing the captain’s cabin.

Seamen tied up hammocks and moved chests on the mess deck.

They dismantled the bulwark that made up the gun room wall by wall, starting with May’s empty cabin.

What I wouldn’t give to find her encouraging face in the cockpit with étienne like I had in the last battle.

More men clambered about the orlop than usual, dark shapes eerily lit by orange lantern light. How many would last the day? It would be an even fight. Ship for ship. The Lord only knew what sort of fight the French would put up.

I ducked into the cockpit, which had already been cleared of the midshipmen’s hammocks and sea chests.

“Doctor, the captain wishes ...” My eyes fell on a trio of boys standing to one side.

Harvey Carden’s eyes had gone as wide as eighteen-pound shot.

Beside him sat an all-too-familiar dark-haired person in men’s clothing whom I hadn’t seen since stepping off HMS Deborah .

My jaw dropped. Gracious! What was Mrs. Peyton doing here? And dressed in her old disguise?

Then I turned to the third individual in canvas trousers and checked shirt, whose face had gone crimson and who stood with arms folded protectively in front of their ill-fitting waistcoat.

I glanced at étienne, who wasn’t making any effort to hide his laughter, then back. When I’d thought I’d give anything to see her face, I hadn’t expected her to materialize in sailor’s slops and ribbon-wrapped queue.

“May?” I finally choked out.

May

étienne had warned me Elias might come down, but it didn’t take away the humiliation. Vicars, at least the ones who truly cared about their position, didn’t want wives who dressed inappropriately. But here I was, and here he was, and there was nothing I could do about it now.

“How ... How did you get here?” Elias tangled his fingers in his hair, worry flooding his features. Beneath it all was a spark of joy in the lift of his mouth and eagerness in his eyes, or was I imagining what I wanted to see?

“You’re supposed to be in Vis.” He turned to étienne. “Did you help them?”

The Frenchman lifted his shoulders and threw up his hands innocently. “I simply found them and gave them a place to stay for the night.”

“The captain ...” Elias trailed off, features going pale.

“No need to tell him now,” Mrs. Peyton said quickly. “I don’t want to disrupt his focus.”

Elias nodded slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was sent here to tell you the captain requested my presence above and I won’t be able to assist you, Doctor. It would appear you have all the help you need.”

He was staying on the upper decks again? I gripped my shirtsleeves, fingers digging into the thick linen. He couldn’t.

Elias nodded a farewell and rushed out of the cockpit.

I followed on his heels into the darkness of the passageway, grabbing for his arm. I hadn’t the faintest idea what I’d say, but I had to say something. “Wait. Just give me one moment.”

His arm went rigid in my hand, but he stopped and looked down at me with brows pulled together. He took a measured breath and waited.

I licked my lips. Barreling into things was a specialty of mine, but this wasn’t something to be handled with a bludgeon.

Elias had all the delicacy. “I know there’s not much time.

And this needs more time than we can give.

But I was wrong to push you away when all you wished to do was love and support me. So very, very wrong. And I’m sorry.”

He didn’t move, and I couldn’t read anything through his guarded expression.

“I was hurt and scared, and I let it all come spilling out.” Much like I was letting this apology tumble from my mouth in awkward and unfiltered phrases. “Before you go, just know that I’m proud of you and that”—I shouldn’t say it, but there was no stopping—“I love you.”

I took him by the arms and rose up to kiss his cheek quickly, but I didn’t make it before a voice cried, “What the devil?”

I flinched and broke away from Elias, whipping my head around. Shelby, the gunner’s mate, stood in the passageway behind me with an oil lamp in one hand and a spare cannon sponge on its long handle in the other.

“Miss Byam?” The gunner’s mate looked me up and down with a skeptical scowl.

I shuffled back, every last inch of my skin aflame. Would I ever learn to keep control of myself?

“If you’ll make way for working folk,” Shelby grumbled, shaking his head and stalking past us.

“Perhaps we should continue this”—Elias cleared his throat, eyes flicking to my lips—“conversation later.”

While I liked the sound of later, the trouble brewing didn’t allow the pleasure to last long.

I squeezed his hand. “Be careful.” The thought of him going above made my stomach tie itself in knots. I’d be here waiting, praying with everything I had that we’d have time to right all my wrongs when the smoke cleared.

Elias

Wind whipped at our hair and clothing as we flew after the two smallest French ships, which had broken off from the others.

A chorus of popping from the larger frigates’ battle to the east echoed across the water, though HMS Alceste and HMS Active were as tiny as children’s toys on the horizon.

Our companion, HMS Unité —which was large enough for eight more guns than our Marianne had—sailed along beside us, every sail bent in a similar fashion to ours.

I made note that it seemed Alceste was disabled. Through the spyglass, it appeared two of her masts were down, but it was difficult to tell in the mix of masts and rigging shrouded by smoke.

“We’ll get our turn, boys,” Captain Peyton muttered near the helm. “Hold fast.”

I wouldn’t mind if we lost them, even if it would sorely disappoint the crew, but I kept my thoughts to myself.

We’d exchanged shots with the enemy vessels a few hours ago, which had whetted the crew’s appetite.

Then the French ships had darted away. They didn’t seem keen on the opportunity to make a prize of us.

Odd for French captains, but it could mean they carried precious cargo they didn’t want falling into English hands.

If only I could go below with May. I’d reassure her that I was well so she wouldn’t have to worry.

For all her blunt exterior, she’d do anything for those she loved.

That included me. My heart warmed despite the nipping breeze.

How things had changed in a matter of moments.

From numbing loneliness to dizzying shock.

Perhaps there was an urgent message Peyton needed me to carry to étienne.

And what would you do if you went below? Find a dark corner and continue your “conversation”? What an upstanding clergyman you are.

I winced at the thought. No, it was better for me to stay right here. May was right; we did have much to discuss. Things wouldn’t go neatly back to how they’d been before, no matter how much the romantic inside me wanted to pretend the last three weeks hadn’t happened, but I still wanted to try.

I brought the glass up again, this time pointing it forward toward the enemy ships we chased.

The two Frenchmen, which couldn’t be much bigger than Marianne , raced northward.

They were running for Italy, no doubt. Perhaps with supplies.

One of them had dropped back and seemed to be adjusting her course away from the other.

“She’s turning northwest!” a midshipman shouted from the lower platform of the foremast. The news was repeated across the upper deck. They were splitting up, perhaps in hopes we wouldn’t head them off and chase them back toward the battle.

“She’s on our side,” Peyton said to Roddam. “Signal Captain Chamberlayne to keep his course. We’ll follow her.” Unité was the larger of us, but the two French ships seemed similar in size. I prayed we were tracking the weaker and easier of the two.

Something about this ship seemed familiar, though perhaps I was simply reliving my memories of our battles on the Deborah .

I trained the telescope on her transom as seamen scrambled to reset the sails and Captain Peyton gave Mr. Sanchez orders to turn.

Yellow leaves scrolled above the stern windows of the French ship in a way I could have sworn I’d seen before.

Such decoration was rather common among all of Europe’s navies, but each ship had a slightly different design.

I focused the glass on the small nameplate below the windows. Saint-Germain .

It couldn’t be. I pulled away from the telescope and squinted as though that would help me see it better.

There might be several ships of that name.

Heaven knew the Royal Navy had plenty of repeated names in its fleets.

This couldn’t be the ship HMS Deborah had met near Antigua last year, which had dug in its heels and held on like a bulldog refusing to release its bone.

So many had been wounded in that fight. So many had been killed.

I glanced toward the hatchway. Including May’s uncle.

Twice that voyage, I had watched the ship leave after giving its all against a greater foe, as the Deborah had certainly outgunned her.

Now it was an even fight. My skin crawled.

“Captain, did you see this?” I asked. “The name.”

He joined me at the starboard rail and brought his own glass to his eye. After a moment, he leaned into the rail much like I had done. “Surely that isn’t ...”

“Look at her paint,” I said. “The yellow and blue on black. That’s hardly a common stripe pattern.” But one that haunted my nightmares in moments of weakness.

He examined her again. “Well, this has taken an interesting turn.” He closed his glass and tapped it against his hand.

“I’d wager good money that’s the very same privateer.

She won’t get away this time,” Captain Peyton muttered.

He pivoted and raised his voice. “Load the bow chasers. We’ll give them a volley. ”

Gun crews at the bow sprang into action, readying their guns and waiting for the order to fire.

Captain Peyton clasped his hands behind his back, thinly veiled anticipation on his face.

Would he be so eager if he knew his wife was below?

I bit the inside of my mouth. How had I been roped into keeping another bit of information about his wife from him?

“I wonder if she has the same captain,” Peyton said. I couldn’t tell if it was to me or to himself. “She’s sailing much more cautiously.”

Last year, her captain had been greedy and impulsive, and the Deborah ’s captain had been wary and not keen on risking his ship or crew. Peyton was far more assertive, with a natural gift for navigating the seas and anticipating his enemy. Which would rule the day?

“Roddam, fire at will.”

“Yes, sir.”

I braced myself against the rail as the deafening roar of the big guns shattered the howl of the wind.