Page 48 of A Prince Among Pirates
“I’m still nursing a headache from last night. I think I need a day to recover. Why don’t we get pissed together tomorrow night?”
“Aye, we’ll be on land by then.”
I perk up at this. “Will we?”
“Aye, the cap’n wants ta spend a day out of sight, lest those frogs work out where we disappeared ta in the middle of the night.”
“Ah. And where are we stopping?”
Renard takes another long swig and wipes his bottom lip with the back of his hand before he grins broadly at me. “The Republic of Pirates.”
Seventeen
Captain, are you certain you want to entrust me with this responsibility?” I ask the next morning as I stand in front of Captain Sharpe’s desk, horrified by the request he’s just made of me.
“No, but who else can I get to do it?” is his less-than-encouraging response, before he lifts his teacup to his extremely distracting mouth.
“Literally… anyone?”
“No, Kitten. Reuter knows everyone else on this ship. If any of them start looking for him when he’s allegedly dead—”
“Or kidnapped by sirens,” I put in helpfully.
Sharpe levels a look at me. “Or kidnapped by sirens,” he continues, “he’ll be suspicious.”
“And what am I to do, precisely? Go around asking random people if they’ve seen a crooked accountant?”
Sharpe snorts. I’m coming to realize that this is a habit of his, one he displays whenever he’s simultaneously annoyed and amused by me. (I am ridiculously charming, after all.) “No. I want you to go into the taverns and ask for a few recommendations for someone who can keep your books for you. Flaunt your wealth, wear something ridiculous.”
“Ouch.”
“Act like the empty-headed, spoilt rich boy you… used to be.”
“Excuse me!” I gasp, though I’m more offended by how very accurate his comment is than the comment itself. “I’ll have you know I have a wonderful head for figures.”
Sharpe grins and buries his nose in his teacup before he can be tempted to comment further. I realize by the expression on his face that I’ve walked right into a joke about my head for certainfigures.
“And what am I to do when I find him?”
“Ask him to meet with you over a pint and take a look at your accounts.”
“I have no—”
“I’ll be there to meet with him instead,” Sharpe explains. “And then your job is over.”
“That’s it, then? Just ask around until someone mentions his name, find him, and ask him to have a drink with me?”
“Yes.”
I consider. I could do it. I put on plenty of similar ruses at Eton, to get access to certain clubs or to sneak away with prettygirls. And I suppose I proved my salt when I helped rescue Captain Sharpe from the French navy. Didn’t I? If I plan to stay and live the life of a pirate, I may as well go all in. It might even be fun, in its own way.
“What if he really is dead?” I ask.
“He isn’t.”
Well, all right, then.
“Very well, I’ll do it.”
