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Captain Hawke worked solidly for the next two days, ensuring that every last speck of storm damage on the Pallas was repaired. He had already left the day cabin when Georgiana awoke and slipped through to pass to the station call for drill each morning, not returning until long after she had fallen asleep within the comfort of his cot. On the third day she had entered the captain’s cabin with a pile of freshly pressed neckcloths to find him poring over charts with both his lieutenants. The great stern windows striped pale winter daylight across the three men. Crossing quietly to his great sea chest, that he had had moved from the night cabin, she made to stow the linen safely and retreat without notice. Their voices mumbled in conversation, but she kept her head down and her eyes averted. She had almost reached the door when Nathaniel spoke out.
‘Wait behind, Robertson. I want to speak with you before you continue with your duties.’
She had no choice but to do as she was bid, hovering awkwardly near the exit while the captain finished his business with the lieutenants. Both men’s gazes washed over her, but the weight of Pensenby’s stare drew her attention. She glanced up to catch his regard, and the look within those small overly-curious eyes made her wary. Captain Hawke had not been wrong in his estimation of Second Lieutenant Pensenby. And the knowledge released in her a small spasm of worry.
The door closed.
‘Sit down, George.’
She glanced once more at the cabin door as if to make sure Pensenby was gone, and moved to one of the chairs positioned beside the captain’s desk.
‘Captain Hawke,’ she said quietly, inclining her head like some great lady, and composedly sat herself down.
Nathaniel watched the graceful figure before him. He cleared his throat and adjusted his neckcloth. ‘I just wanted to be sure that you took no hurts from the storm.’
Georgiana bowed her head to hide the smile that leapt to her lips. Nathaniel Hawke had been worried about her after all, and the thought, inappropriate as it was, brought a gladness to her heart. ‘None at all, thank you for your concern, sir. Mr Fraser looked after me most admirably.’
‘It must have been a frightening experience for you, all the same.’ There was a concern in his eyes that he could not entirely mask.
Georgiana shrugged her shoulders slightly in a dismissive gesture. ‘Yes, but not as fearful as the thought of those of you facing the storm up on the deck. When I heard that Mr Hartley had been washed overboard…’
‘His rope snapped, carrying him over. Fortunately we were able to retrieve him.’
She smiled at him. ‘It seems that on this occasion luck was on your side.’
‘Luck plays her part, but experience, skill, a decent ship and a good crew of men are the foremost defences against a stormy sea.’ He raised his brow, and the corners of his mouth tugged up in a crooked smile. ‘I sound to be singing my own praises, but that isn’t my intention. Your acclaim should be for the men who did their jobs so well in the face of the storm.’
Laughter played on her lips. ‘Captain Hawke, an arrogant man? Who would have thought it?’
His eyes creased with the boyish grin, but beneath it she could see the toll fatigue was taking upon him.
‘There’s a tiredness in your face. You’re bone weary and should rest.’ The thought was spoken aloud. She glanced down in embarrassment, unwilling that he should guess the truth of her feelings for him. ‘Forgive me, Captain, I shouldn’t have spoken.’
One long tanned finger gently tipped her chin up. He was still smiling. ‘Could it be that my nephew has a thought for my welfare?’
Georgiana could not prevent the colour that flooded her cheeks. ‘Yes…no…I …’ then exclaimed, ‘You’re teasing me again, sir. I should be about my duties.’ She made to pull back, but he stopped her.
‘Maybe so, but not before you’ve answered your captain’s question, ship’s boy Robertson.’ Nathaniel’s eyes shone wickedly.
He had not removed his hand from her chin, and in truth had no compulsion to do so. What was it about the dark-haired girl before him that attracted him so? Even during the long hours of work he had found himself desiring her company, to hear her clear voice, watch the rose blush grow in her cheeks when he teased her, witness her enthusiasm for learning anything and everything she could about the ship. She had a good mind, that much was evident. A mind wasted as a third-class ship’s boy. And the marriage mart of today would view it as a mind wasted on a woman. But Nathaniel did not think so.
When she looked at him her eyes were a cool, calm grey blue. ‘I’m concerned for every man upon the Pallas, including her captain.’
‘Even Mr Pensenby?’ It seemed he was willing to say anything to prolong the conversation, anything to prevent her leaving. He had missed her these past days. The realisation hit him with the force of a mid-Atlantic gale.
The light in her face dimmed and a frown crept between her eyes. ‘My concern is about Lieutenant Pensenby rather than for him.’ Her fingers stole to worry at the lobe of her ear. ‘It would seem that the second lieutenant does not quite believe our story. There’s something in the way he looks at me, as if to say he knows something is amiss. Perhaps I’m just being fanciful, but it leaves me uneasy.’
‘Yes.’ Nathaniel looked pensive. ‘My thoughts flow in a similar direction. We had best have a care where Pensenby is concerned. He has a scholar’s mind for analysis and a passion for a puzzle. The sooner that his focus is trained on Bonaparte’s forces, the better.’
They looked at each other, without further speech. And within each breast stirred disquiet and beneath it something else warm and joyous.
He touched his thumb to her cheek with gentle reassurance. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t let him discover our secret, whatever it takes.’
A sense of unity blossomed between them, as if it were just the two of them together, against the world.
The severity of his gaze softened.
A knock at the door revealed Mr Fraser.
‘There you are, laddie. If you’re finished with the boy, I’ll be off with him, Captain.’
Captain Hawke nodded his compliance. ‘Go ahead, Mr Fraser.’ But the dark eyes did not leave Georgiana’s slender frame until she had departed his cabin.
‘Mr Fraser,’ he called as the grizzled head disappeared around the door.
‘Aye, Captain?’
He looked at his valet meaningfully. ‘Keep the boy within your sight at all times.’
Fraser’s lone eye glared unblinkingly back. An unspoken understanding passed between them and he nodded. ‘That I certainly will, sir.’
And he was gone, leaving Nathaniel to contemplate how best to deal with Lieutenant Pensenby.
Chapter Six
It was not long before they arrived in the warmer waters of their destination. Despite it being so late in the year the seas surrounding the Azores were clear and calm and of such a bright coloration that Georgiana never ceased to marvel at their beauty. The cold dark skies of England had been left far behind, replaced instead with a cloudless expanse of blue. Even more incredible was the temperature, for, as those novice members of the Pallas’ crew discovered, it was pleasantly warm. Indeed, such was the sun that an awning was positioned over the quarterdeck each morning to protect the officers about their work. The men did not take such precautions from the heat, preferring instead to divest themselves of their shirts at any excuse. On first sight the exposure of masculine flesh rather shocked Georgiana, who tried to avert her eyes from such indecency. She was thus engaged one morning when she tripped over a large coil of rope, landing face down on the swabbed and holystoned deck. Mr Fraser had hauled her up, dusted her down and given her a good tongue lashing for not watching where she was going. Thereafter, Georgiana had learned to take the seminaked sights in her stride, much to Captain Hawke’s disapproval.
As they travelled further south past Madeira, the sun grew stronger and the smothering heat sapped the strength of them all. Even Nathaniel wilted a little beneath the dark blue wool of his dress coat, perspiration soaking through from his shirt to his waistcoat. And as Mr Fraser put it, with the captain having such a peculiar compulsion for clean clothes and bathing, Georgiana was kept busy with the laundering. Not her most favourite of duties. Indeed, she could steadfastly avow to the truth of Mr Fraser’s earlier prediction concerning the pungency of the stale urine. It was while filling her basin with the well-matured fluid that Georgiana heard the captain’s voice suddenly close behind her.
‘Just what do you think you’re doing, Master Robertson?’ he demanded in a whisper. His annoyance was plain.
Georgiana, who had been daydreaming sweet and pleasant thoughts as a diversion from the rather distasteful task at which she was employed, jumped as if she’d been scalded. This had the unfortunate effect of spilling the aromatic contents of her basin down the length of her, soaking her jacket, waistcoat, shirt and culottes. Even her feet did not escape the frothy brown deluge.
A yell wrought forth. She spun round to see Nathaniel looking at her, an expression of undisguised horror set clearly on his face. ‘Captain,’ she ground out through gritted teeth. ‘I didn’t hear your approach, sir.’
‘Evidently not,’ uttered the captain.
If looks could kill, Nathaniel knew without a doubt that he would have lain mortally wounded upon the deck. For Georgiana was eyeing him with an accusing look of ‘it’s all your fault'.
The urine dribbled down the bare flesh of her stomach and was soaking its way through her bindings. She grimaced at Nathaniel. ‘You wanted to know about my actions, sir?’
‘This is not your duty,’ he hissed.
Georgiana opened her eyes wide and stared at him incredulously before muttering drolly, ‘I beg to differ, sir, but it surely is.’
By this stage Mr Fraser was travelling towards them at a fair rate of knots for an elderly retainer, and several of the crew had noticed the boy’s state.
‘I’ll speak to you later,’ was all he managed before the valet was within earshot.
‘Laddie!’ Fraser bellowed. ‘I turn my back for two minutes and you’ve landed yourself in mischief!’ As he stepped closer the stench assailed his nostrils. ‘In the name of …’ He retreated rather quickly, his eyes watering. ‘You’d best stand down wind of us, laddie, the captain’ll not be wanting to smell that.’
Georgiana pressed her lips firmly together and moved to where Mr Fraser was pointing. ‘I wouldn’t want to inflict anythin’ so horrible on the captain, sir.’
Nathaniel did not miss the murderous glint in her eye, even if Mr Fraser remained oblivious.
‘Quite so, laddie, quite so.’
The baking heat of the sun caused steam to rise from Georgiana’s sodden clothes, magnifying the smell acutely.
Nathaniel coughed once and Mr Fraser set about a loud and raucous choking sound.
‘Have someone else finish this job, Mr Fraser, I rather think that Master Robertson is in need of a change of clothes.’ A smile twitched at his face. ‘Either that or we’ve found the perfect weapon to inflict upon our enemies.’
Guffaws sounded all around.
Georgiana’s eyes darted daggers. ‘Yes, sir, right away, sir,’ she muttered, and made her way below, leaving behind a trail of smelly wet footprints.
‘Beast!’ the word escaped Georgiana as she huddled within the hip bath, washing her limbs with cold seawater. Anger had given her the strength to fetch and fill the bath herself. With the chair wedged firmly beneath the handle of the interconnecting door of her cabin—or should she say the captain’s cabin?—she stripped naked and balled the stinking wet clothes in the corner, ready to be rinsed once she had removed every last trace of the offensive odour from her own person. If he thought he could just come upon her and cause such a mishap … How she fumed. He was rude and uncaring, the antithesis of a gentleman, and … And he was none of these things. Georgiana plummeted off her high horse and acknowledged the truth. Nathaniel Hawke was everything to be respected in a good man. It was only her pride that was smarting, as well it might, having been soaked in the stale urine of one hundred and eighty-five burly members of the King’s Navy. Ugh! She shivered at the very thought. And no matter how hard she scrubbed, it seemed that she could detect the faint whiff of that unsavoury excretion. By the time she had completed her ablutions, the tablet of soap was very small and she was once more fragrant and cleansed. Her clothes lay clean and ready to be hung out on deck. At least they would dry quickly in the warm breeze. All except her bindings, which she could not risk revealing to any other eyes. They dripped alone, a saddened state in the corner.
Georgiana looked down at her newly donned shirt and took a sharp intake of air. It would not do, it just would not do at all. Pulling on the waistcoat and jacket she inspected herself further. The problem still manifested itself in a rather obvious way. She would have to wait some time before facing the crew of the Pallas once more.
There was a tap at the door.
‘George.’ Nathaniel’s voice sounded through the wooden panels.
She did not answer.
The handle shifted beneath Nathaniel’s hand, but the door stuck fast. ‘George,’ he persevered. ‘I shouldn’t have laughed at you. It was an unfortunate accident. You’re not hurt, are you?’
‘No. I’m quite recovered from the incident, sir.’
‘Open the door, I wish to speak with you.’ His voice sounded a little impatient.
Georgiana’s gaze scanned the empty cabin. ‘I cannot.’
‘Why not?’ She could hear his perplexity.
She paused, thinking quickly. ‘I…I’m not suitably dressed.’
‘Well, put some clothes on and be quick about it.’ Nathaniel Hawke could be a persistent man when it suited him.
A pool of water was collecting on the floor beneath the bindings. It would be some hours before they would be dry enough to wear again. Neither Captain Hawke, nor any other member of the crew, would believe that it took that length of time to bathe and dress. ‘It will take some considerable time, sir.’
‘I’ve letters to write. Come out when you’re ready.’ He listened for her reply, as his boots echoed across the wooden floor to his desk.
There was nothing else for it. She would have to tell him the truth. ‘Captain Hawke, are you still there?’
‘Yes.’
She pictured him sitting serenely at his desk, quill in hand, a sheet of paper in readiness before him. ‘Are you quite alone, sir?’
She felt his gaze shift from the paper to the door. ‘Yes. Is something the matter, George?’
A small silence.
‘Yes, sir.’
The boots had risen and were making their way back over to the other side of the doorway. ‘George?’
More silence.
Then, ‘I cannot leave the cabin until tomorrow, sir.’
‘Why ever not?’
She chewed on her lip. ‘It’s rather difficult to explain, sir.’
Nathaniel’s apprehension was mounting by the minute. The girl must have hurt more than her pride. Worry pulled at his brow. ‘Open this door at once, George.’
‘I cannot.’
‘If you don’t, I’ll take the whole damn wall down.’ What the hell had happened to make her afraid to open the door? Had Pensenby accosted her? Nathaniel felt suddenly apprehensive at the thought. ‘George!’ The door handle rattled uselessly in his fingers. He contemplated dismantling the flimsy structure—it was, after all, designed to be removed into storage during battle situations.
Georgiana leapt up off the bed and placed her hands against the door. ‘Please do not, sir. I beg of you.’
The girl was clearly distraught. He forced his voice to sound calm, reassuring. ‘I cannot help you if you won’t speak to me. Just open the door.’ And all the while the knot of worry within his stomach expanded.
Silence.
She sighed. It was no use, her rebuttals and half-explanations were just making things worse. For all his efforts, she could hear the unease in his voice. Slowly she removed the chair and opened the door.
‘Georgiana,’ Nathaniel uttered with relief and stepped through the portal. Nothing seemed to be amiss. She appeared fully dressed and uninjured. He grasped her shoulders and scanned her face. ‘What’s wrong? Why wouldn’t you open the door?’
He watched the rosy hue rise in her cheeks as she would not meet his gaze. It was quite unlike her normal behaviour. ‘Georgiana,’ he whispered again and pulled her into an embrace. He touched a kiss to the top of her head and soap and seawater tickled his nose. His hand slowed its caress across her back as he looked down into her eyes. ‘Is it Pensenby? Has he questioned you?’
The blush deepened. ‘Oh, no, nothing of that nature.’ She tried to pull away, but his arms only tightened around her. She swallowed hard. ‘Perhaps, it’s not so much of a problem as I’d imagined if it’s not apparent to you.’ Easing herself away from him, she stood back and, despite the mortification she was suffering, held herself open to his perusal. ‘Do you notice no change in my appearance, sir? Please be truthful.’
His brow wrinkled in puzzlement as he scrutinised her hair and face, his gaze dropping to examine her newly donned clothes. Was it his imagination, or had she, was she…? Brown eyes met blue and a dark winged eyebrow raised its enquiry. ‘Take off your jacket.’
‘No, indeed I will not!’ Two pink spots burned brighter upon her cheeks.
At last Nathaniel experienced a glimmer of understanding of his ship’s boy’s strange behaviour. ‘Come now, George, it’s better if I see the full extent of the problem.’
Embarrassing though it was, she supposed him to be right. The jacket was quickly thrown upon the bed. ‘Perhaps it’s not as obvious as I’d thought. If I were to keep my jacket on—’
‘It would not hide the fact that you have a most admirable figure, nephew George, a fact that would not go unnoticed by the entirety of the company.’ He raised appreciative eyes to hers. ‘Yes, I believe I understand your dilemma.’
She snatched the jacket back against her breast. For, once freed of its restraining bindings, Georgiana’s bosom was clearly apparent and in complete defiance of her ship’s boy status. The reappearance of the hitherto forgotten attribute rendered Miss Raithwaite uncomfortably self-conscious. ‘Captain Hawke, if you would kindly refrain from staring,’ she said.
