Page 6 of Across the Star-Kissed Sea (Proper Romance Regency #1)

“ Très bien .” The man turned to hail someone near the gangplank. “Doswell, will you help me with this?”

The tall man hurried over, the tails of his fine green coat undulating with each step. He wore a straw top hat nestled over red hair.

Lud. The chaplain! I hadn’t even made it onto the ship before having to face him. I nearly took back my approval of the assistance.

“You are Miss Byam, Mrs. Peyton’s lady’s maid?” the Frenchman asked.

I nodded, scrambling to find a way to refuse his assistance before the chaplain arrived.

The Frenchman smiled kindly. “Gilles étienne. I am the ship’s surgeon.”

I opened my mouth to tell him my mother and I could manage my belongings, but the chaplain stopped before us.

“Who is ... ?” He paled as he met my gaze. I expected him to pivot and flounce away, irritably waving his handkerchief in our direction at the thought of helping me.

“Miss Byam, this is Mr. Doswell, our chaplain,” Dr. étienne said, hands on his hips.

He dressed rather sloppily compared to the chaplain.

“And a rather good one, I must say, though I am not much for religion.” He leaned toward me and said in a hushed tone, “The clergyman from my last ship, HMS Propriety , he was a buffoon.”

“Shall we?” Mr. Doswell tore his gaze away and gestured toward the gangplank.

“Yes, yes, yes.” étienne waved a hand. “We will put it in your cabin, miss.”

I mumbled my thanks as the two men lifted the trunk with greater ease than Mama and I. The stocky Frenchman had to take two strides for every one of the chaplain’s rapid steps. The man practically sprinted up the gangplank and onto the deck.

“ He is handsome,” Mama said.

“ He is an imbecile.” I turned to her, my hovering tears suddenly gone.

The chaplain’s presence would not cow me.

I was ready for this challenge. I’d made my choice, just like Mama had and Papa had and Agnes had and Lewis had.

Though my heart ached as she drew me in for one last embrace, the rightness of the decision permeated every part of me.

Come storm or battle or critical clergyman, I would remember this moment.

When I returned, I would be a different May, a better May.

They would all see. I could break free of the chains of Papa’s guilt on my own.

Elias

“This is Miss Byam’s cabin?” I asked, balking at the entrance. It was the empty cabin sharing a wall with mine. “You’re certain?”

étienne nodded. “This is what that hawk woman told me.”

He meant Mrs. Hallyburton. Only Captain Peyton knew this ship better than she.

“She’s ... she’s sleeping in the gun room?

” The gun room—with its nicer cabins divided by wood partitions—was usually reserved for lieutenants, the sailing master, the surgeon, the purser, and the chaplain.

Even the standing officers like Mr. Hallyburton were relegated to canvas-enclosed cabins outside the gun room’s bulwark.

While I cared little about breaking such customs, the oddness of having a servant housed among officers struck me.

As did the impending regularity with which I would be forced to relive my blunder because I would surely cross paths with her often.

A man couldn’t avoid his neighbor very easily.

Not on a ship. So much for my hastily concocted plans to stay away from her during the voyage.

The surgeon shrugged. “Mrs. Peyton requested it. Because the captain did not bring a clerk, there was an empty cabin.”

“I see.” We shuffled through the narrow door and deposited the trunk against one of the partitions.

“It will be odd having a few women aboard, will it not?” étienne said as we exited.

“Quite.” I wouldn’t have minded until I’d humiliated myself in front of one a few days ago.

“It should be a very different voyage.” This was the longest conversation I’d ever had with the Frenchman.

During our voyage on the Deborah , he’d kept to himself unless summoned to meet the needs of the crew.

He pulled a folded square of paper from his pocket and held it up. “If you’ll excuse me.” A letter from home, perhaps?

“Of course,” I said. No doubt he received those infrequently.

He made for his cabin and closed the door behind him.

I glanced through the doors separating the gun room from the rest of the mess deck.

The young woman, Miss Byam, had not descended the ladder.

Perhaps she had continued her goodbyes with her mother, or maybe she had stopped at the captain’s quarters to inform Mrs. Peyton of her arrival.

I slipped into my cabin and lit the lantern.

Then I pulled out my little chest of herbs and spices.

I sat cross-legged on the sage-green rug Miriam had given me and carefully opened the lid.

Whiffs of cinnamon, cardamom, and nutmeg hit my nose, followed by the earthy tones of sage and thyme.

Dried lemon, candied ginger, and delicate jasmine buds.

My shoulders loosened, and my stomach muscles relaxed.

What concoction today? Something with jasmine, to be sure.

I glanced toward the wall and sighed. In the next months, I had a feeling I would be brewing quite a few infusions, given whom my neighbor had turned out to be.

Elias, you truly have the most rotten luck.

May

I stood near the wall—or perhaps more appropriately, the bulwark—of the great cabin with hands folded as Captain Woodall’s daughter tapped her chin.

I had seen her tall, light-haired father only once, when I’d drifted to the dockyard in a grief-fueled stupor after my aunt had told us the news.

This short, dark-haired girl looked almost nothing like him, and on our first meeting, she had seemed so inexperienced with this life.

But even so, she had earned a touch of my respect in that visit—how could I not, at the very least, appreciate her when she’d accepted me so quickly?

But now it made much more sense. She’d recognized my name and pitied me. I took a breath to calm myself. It wouldn’t do to let her know the realization of her parentage smarted within me.

“I suppose bringing me breakfast would be your first responsibility in the morning,” she said. “Dominic ... Captain Peyton usually rises before me. The steward will attend to him.”

“What time do you expect your breakfast?” I asked evenly. Did she support her father’s decision regarding my aunt? Did she even know of it? Each thought made my heart turn a little colder.

She hesitated, searching my face as though she could sense something was amiss. “At the beginning of forenoon watch. Whenever it is convenient.”

Convenient? I nearly scoffed. Aunt had told me how demanding the Woodalls were, based on what she inferred from Uncle’s stories.

My uncle was too loyal to speak ill of his captain.

Was Mrs. Peyton attempting to appear a fair employer only to chide me later when I brought things too late for her taste?

I translated the time in my head. Forenoon watch began at half past eight o’clock.

That was more than reasonable. It was later than Mrs. Richardson had expected me at her house, and I’d had farther to walk to get to that job.

“Is that too early?” Mrs. Peyton asked.

“No, ma’am. What else?” She would have worse demands, no doubt.

“I will dress before eating. Though I can do much of that myself.”

Did she doubt my abilities to dress someone? I straightened my gown. “I am perfectly capable of dressing you, ma’am.” That was what a lady’s maid was for, after all.

She opened her mouth as though to protest but paused. Then she gave a little sigh. “Very well.”

How terribly inexperienced she seemed. No wonder the sailors we’d heard speak of HMS Deborah ’s last voyage had snorted and guffawed at the very mention of her.

If my aunt had been aboard, she might have been a friend to Mrs. Peyton and helped her understand the way of things.

What a terrible mistake the Woodalls had made.

A little voice in my head protested that I was being both irrational and unkind.

The blurring memory of Charlie’s face filled my mind.

He would have scolded me for this. He was one of the few boys I had ever met who I could genuinely say had a heart of gold.

Very well. I would be kind for Charlie, even if I would also not forgive Captain Woodall’s actions.

As much as I wanted to be like Charlie, I had too much of my aunt in me.

“Mrs. Hallyburton said she can show you how we do laundry aboard. I can help as well. Everyone must see to their own clothes on a voyage.”

I frowned. Did she even need me here? She seemed so intent on not inconveniencing me.

I had to make sure she saw the value in keeping me here.

We were still in port. There was plenty of time to change her mind.

A flash of worry shot through my limbs. She wouldn’t reconsider, would she?

I couldn’t crawl back to Mama and Aunt now.

“I will, of course, oversee all the laundry for you and the captain,” I said firmly. “I am more than capable.”

She nodded. “Of course. I did not mean to imply that you were not.” Her cheeks pinked. “Once you have settled into your cabin, I will show you where our things are stowed. If you would like.”

It was all I could do not to cross my arms in irritation.

Had she been without servants all her life?

She spoke as though she were a servant-turned-lady, but I knew that could not be true.

All accounts said that the Woodalls owned a comfortable estate outside London.

Comfortable estates meant an army of servants. “Will that be all?”

“Yes. Please see to your own cabin, which is the first cabin in the gun room on the larboard side.”