Page 52 of A Prince Among Pirates
“Ah, apologies,” I say as I take it back and replace it with another coin. He pats my shoulder, with a scoff, and pushes his way through the crowd to the bar, while I sit back to wait.
It’s not long before Renard returns with two pints and a pretty barmaid with an ample bosom. She sets down two plates heaped with potatoes and small cooked hens, then takes the dirty plates and winks at me before walking away without a word.
Once my belly is full and I’ve had two more pints of ale, I feel much more relaxed. The clamor of the tavern makes it impossible to focus on any sort of conversation, but I don’t mind. Pleasantly tipsy, I loosen the tie of my shirt and run my fingers through my hair. “It’s hot,” I point out. How very astute of me.
“Aye.”
“And loud.”
“Aye.”
I frown at Renard and push myself up. “I’m going to see if they’ve any rooms for let. I want to sleep in a real bed tonight.”
Renard stands as well, pint in hand. How many has he had? I don’t remember seeing him order refills, but perhaps they came with mine. “Aye, right. We can drink upstairs fer a bit.”
I try not to think about how he’s just invited himself to drink in my room. I suppose Ishouldn’tthink much of it, since he and I were drinking in his quarters on theDeliveranceonly the day before.
I push my way to the bar to make arrangements for a room for the night. After a lot of yelling back and forth over the noise, I finally toss some coin onto the counter and point up. It’s more than enough for a room—and more drink.
The barkeep scoops up the coins with a nod.
“Wine,” I say. “Not ale.”
Not ten minutes later Renard and I step into my let room. It’s hardly the nicest place I’ve ever stayed, but it’s not the worst. I’ve been in brothels far less clean and comfortable than this. The bed isn’t large, but it’s fine for me on my own. There is a small table with two chairs on either side of it. I set the wineglasses down, glancing up when I hear the bolt on the door slide into place.
Renard shrugs at me as he turns away from it. “If we’re gettin’ pissed, cannae be too careful.”
True.
Still: “I can’t gettoopissed; I have work to do in the morning.”
Renard snorts at that and sits down. “Yer already pissed.”
I grin and slide out of my shoes before sinking into my own chair. “No.”
“Aye.”
“Maybe a little.”
He smirks and gives a shake of his head as he pops the cork on the wine and pours us each a glass. Then he drinks directly from the bottle before setting it down. A more sober version of me would be disgusted by that, but somewhat-drunk me doesn’t care. I clink glasses with him and drink down a third of mine in one go.
I grimace. It’s not good wine—but then, this isn’t a dinner party, where the point of wine is to taste it. This is a tavern, and I’m getting drunk with a friend.
“Congratulations on becomin’ a real pirate, lad,” Renard says to me after setting his own glass down.
I’m surprised by the comment. I sit up straight. “I didn’t realize the captain had told you.” It’s Renard’s turn to be confused, so I elucidate. “About Jeff Reuter.”
“Ah,” Renard says, nodding. “He started ta…” He studies me, assessing. I wonder if he’s deciding whether I am smart enough to follow through with Sharpe’s plan. “What’d ye find out?”
I lean forward conspiratorially, holding my glass with both hands. “He was embezzling. He wasn’t very discreet about it either. I think he assumed the captain would never have anyoneelse look at the books, so he barely bothered to cover his tracks.”
Renard raises his brows. “Nae,” he whispers.
“Yes!” I say with a little too much enthusiasm. It’s like gossiping about classmates back at Eton, and I’m rather enjoying myself. “He stole a great deal of coin and jewels from the ship. He must have taken it all with him when he ‘mysteriously disappeared,’?” I say, waving my arm for dramatic effect, though it makes me spill a bit of wine on my black trousers.
I wrinkle my nose and pat at the wet spot. At least they’re black.
“Just him alone?”
