Font Size
Line Height

Page 15 of Benefactor to the Baroness (The Seductive Sleuths #3)

T he next morning, Rosemary strolled through the narrow corridors of the ship, chewing a chunk of ginger with her back teeth and bracing herself against the wall with one hand. The constant swaying continued to upset her stomach, although none of the children had been similarly affected. Annie scampered past her, bare feet squeaking on the wooden plank floor as if she had been seafaring for years instead of barely more than a day.

She had expected most of her time during the journey to be spent keeping the orphans out of the way of the guests, but the children were more interested in the sailors. This might have been a problem, except that the sailors, unaccustomed to having children aboard, delighted in their antics and questions. She hoped that would be the case for many days so that they would not have to entertain them.

“Wait for us!” Peter cried from behind her, and then both he and a pale Quinn stumbled past her. Quinn’s fever had broken, although his breathing was still raspy. The movement of his passing caused the flounced ruffles on the neckline of her bodice to flutter and made her reconsider her choice of outfit. She had done without a crinoline, but the hem of her cream, linen walking suit was already stained a dingy brown from being dragged across the ground.

She should have returned to the small cabin, but she didn’t want to risk seeing Fontaine and remembering what they’d nearly done. Even if Fontaine’s skin had been silky soft beneath her fingers, and the way she had responded to Rosemary’s touch had awakened something deep inside her.

A shiver rippled up her back. They had many nights before they arrived in Halifax. How could she possibly resist sharing pleasure with Fontaine when they were pressed together in the tiny bed every night? Especially when they had a door with a lock. There was no reason anyone ever needed to know what they had done. They could indulge themselves fully with the confidence they would not be discovered.

The ship gave another lurch, causing her to stumble forward and nearly choke on her ginger. She swallowed the chunk, and her stomach gurgled in displeasure.

Basil had died on a ship. She often wondered what his last thoughts had been before the icy water had swallowed him up. Had he agonized over the decisions that had led him to that moment or had he accepted death with peace?

Air. She needed fresh air.

She reached the end of the hall and a set of stairs that seemed to go up forever. By the time she’d reached the top, she was sweating with exertion, but the cool wind that whirled around her immediately made the trip worthwhile. She rushed over to the spot Cookie had taken her the previous day and grasped the railing with both hands, squinting against the harsh rays of the sun. After a few minutes, the gurgling in her stomach calmed, and she forcibly relaxed her stiff arms and shoulders. Despite the unpleasantness of her seasickness, she had to admit the view was stunning. The sky was painted in shades of red and orange above the frothing, dark-blue waves of the ocean. Large, white birds skimmed the surface of the water in the distance, and the sails flapped rhythmically above her.

She released a long breath and turned, intending to return to the warmer interior of the boat, only for her gaze to be drawn to two figures sitting on stools near the towering mast.

The first was Cookie, the muscular, tattooed man who had helped them board. The second was Winter.

“Shouldn’t you be with the others, Winter?” she asked softly as she came to stand beside the pair.

Winter dipped his head.

“Don’t mind,” Cookie said. “Nice to have someone to talk to. Look at this, Winter. Watch my hands.”

The sailor twined three strands of rope, forming a braid. She was certain he could have done the task much faster, but he moved with deliberate slowness.

“Copy me, Winter,” he said.

Winter shot a glance at her before reaching into the bucket and retrieving three lengths of rope. He watched Cookie do several more loops before hesitantly copying the movements.

She clasped her forearms in her hands, unsure if Cookie was merely being kind, or if he had a genuine interest in taking the child on as an apprentice. If the former, she should gently remind Winter not to occupy too much of the sailor’s time.

If the latter…

“What’s this?” Fontaine asked, appearing so suddenly that Winter startled and dropped his rope.

The hair on Rosemary’s arms rose as she faced the dowager baroness. The events of the previous night seemed to hang in the air between them, a kind of electricity that made it difficult to meet the other woman’s gaze. She was acutely aware of how Fontaine’s curves filled out her dress, rumpled as it was. Nor could she forget what Fontaine’s rear had felt like, pressed to her front, or the soft sounds she’d made in her sleep.

Her cheeks heated as she realized she was staring. She cleared her throat and gestured to the sailor and orphan. “Winter has been keeping Cookie company.”

Cookie grunted, his gaze never leaving the rope in his hands. He had increased the speed of his movements. Winter furrowed his brow as he attempted to keep up.

“Winter, don’t you want to go and play?” Fontaine asked.

The boy shook his head without stopping his task. His small fingers made quick work of the braid, and he was rapidly approaching the same speed as the sailor, although his loops were not nearly as tight or even as Cookie’s.

Winter finished his work, placed it aside, then clasped his hands in his lap and stared at Cookie with rapt attention. A few seconds later, Cookie put down his own braid and picked up Winter’s, easing his fingers over the loops. When he finished, he grunted and set the braid aside. “It’ll do.”

Winter grinned and reached into the bucket for another set of strands.

Rosemary guided Fontaine away from the pair. “Those two are getting along well.”

Fontaine bit her lip and furrowed her brow. A remarkable distraction. Rosemary wished she could press her own lips to Fontaine’s, smooth away the wrinkles on her forehead with her fingers.

“Perhaps Captain Charles might be interested in taking Winter on as an apprentice,” Fontaine said. “He is a respectable man. He would take good care of Winter…” She sighed. “But the apprentice premium. We don’t have the funds. Even Captain Charles is unlikely to take on the responsibility of another mouth to feed when a child cannot provide the same labor as an adult.” She touched the gold sparkling in her ears.

“No,” Rosemary said. She knew exactly what Fontaine was thinking. The daft woman was about to give up her jewels for a child she had only met a few days prior. “You don’t have to do this. We could find another way.”

Fontaine glanced at Cookie and Winter across the deck, and a softness came over her expression. At that moment, it was obvious that she had decided, and it would be pointless to argue with her. Rosemary wished she could make it easier on Fontaine, but it was her choice to do what she wished with her possessions, even if Rosemary felt that by the time the journey ended, Fontaine would have barely a shilling to her person.

Then again, hadn’t Rosemary done the same thing for Saffron, Angelica, and Basil? With the baronet’s fortune nearly depleted, she’d spent her meager widow’s portion, sold her jewels, hired a governess, all so the children would have everything they needed. She knew exactly how it felt to feel responsible for another person, even if that person was not directly related by blood.

“Fine. Let’s speak to the captain.”

*

Rosemary wasn’t sure what she’d expected to find in a captain’s quarters, but the space they stood in was as cluttered as it was luxurious. A thick, red-and-gold rug lay on the floor, the walls were covered with pegs holding mysterious, bronze objects, and a single large table dominated the room, a map spread across its surface.

“I thought you might consider taking Winter on as an apprentice,” Fontaine said.

Captain Charles’s eyebrows rose all the way to his hairline. “I have noticed Cookie taking an interest in the boy.”

“He’ll be as hard-working as any other man on your crew,” Fontaine said quickly. “Street children are accustomed to making their own way.”

The captain put his folded hands on top of the map. “How do you propose to pay the apprentice’s price?”

“I will pay it,” Rosemary said, at the same time that Fontaine said, “My earrings.”

Rosemary jerked her head toward the dowager baroness. “No.”

Fontaine had been wearing those earrings since the day they’d met. Obviously, they meant a great deal to her. Rosemary leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I have the funds.”

She had packed a small amount of money that Saffron had gifted her a few weeks before.

Fontaine tilted her head and lowered her eyelids but did not meet Rosemary’s gaze. “These children are my responsibility, not yours.”

The words burrowed into Rosemary’s skin and plunged into her heart. After all the effort she’d put into rescuing Winter and the others, Fontaine wouldn’t let her help. Perhaps she’d seen what Rosemary had already realized, that she would never be the kind of person who could naturally empathize with others the way Fontaine could. The best she could muster was a kind of cold sympathy that bordered on pity. No wonder Basil had fled her house. She’d piled expectations and responsibilities upon him without sparing a second to consider how he’d felt.

She stepped back. “Fine.”

Fontaine faced the captain and lifted her trembling fingers to her ears. “My earrings. They’re diamond and gold. They…They belonged to my mother.”

Captain Charles tapped his fingers on the top of his desk. “You’d be willing to part with such valuable, sentimental items for a child you barely know?”

Fontaine straightened her back. “It is my duty to see the orphans settled in appropriate positions.”

Captain Charles rubbed his chin again. “I am reluctant to agree to allow a child to remain on this ship, but perhaps it is what we need. Some young blood.” He nodded. “I agree.” Then he held out his hand.

Fontaine removed her earrings and dropped them into Captain Charles’s palm. He closed his fingers. “The boy can move into Cookie’s room tomorrow. He’ll board with him for as long as his apprenticeship lasts.”

“Oh.” Fontaine blinked. “I suppose, then…” She looked at Rosemary. “We won’t have to share after tonight. I could take Winter’s bed with the children.”

It should have been a relief. She would have privacy, and a bed to herself. There would be no more close encounters where temptation overwhelmed her logic. She would accept the situation and be grateful for it.

Even if she longed for Fontaine at night.