Page 27 of Scandalous

Martín tore his eyes away from the dithering functionary. “This is Mademoiselle Fisher, the daughter of English missionaries. She found herself in the hold of the Blue Bird after the people of her village were enslaved.” Martín wanted to make certain the irritatingly merciful and forgiving woman never, ever forgot how it was that she’d come into contact with the slaving Dutch peer.

The admiral’s eyebrows climbed to where his hairline would have been if he’d had any hair.

Martín continued when the other man did not speak. “She requires the help of the British government to return to England. She is, after all, British.”

The admiral nodded at the woman, but quickly looked back at Graaf, as though the sight of the younger man was causing him physical pain.

Martín took advantage of the lull in conversation to further explain. “My first mate is awaiting a member of your staff so that he might turn over the Dutch ship.” He paused, but the admiral was still staring at Graaf.

Martín refused to think about what the admiral’s expression meant. He also refused to stay in the man’s presence any longer. He was worried he might cut off the admiral’s head or shoot him if he remained. He lunged to his feet.

“I’m afraid I must be going as I have rather pressing business in town. I beg your pardon for my haste.” Martín nodded to the bewildered man before turning to the other two. “Mademoiselle Fisher, I bid you good-bye and good luck.” He inclined his head to the woman without meeting her eyes and left without speaking to the Dutchman.

He almost made it out the front door before Keeton caught up to him. The man must be fitter than he looked.

“Please wait, Captain Bouchard, I beg of you.”

Bouchard pasted a smile on his face and turned. “Yes, Admiral?”

“Do you know who that man is?”

“No.” Martín was only half lying. Even an ignorant oaf such as he could see Graaf was some sort of Dutch aristocrat. “I don’t know who he is, and, furthermore, it has nothing to do with me. I can see you hope it has nothing to do with you, either. However, Admiral, you are the ranking official here, and it is usual in these cases for me to turn over the ship, crew, and cargo. The letter I carry grants me no more power than that, nor am I required to do anything more. I bid you good day, Admiral.” He bowed, clapped his hat on his head with more force than was necessary, and stepped out of the house, shutting the door on whatever the man had been about to say next.

Martín exhaled and straightened his cuffs. When he looked up, it was to find the fat soldier watching him. Martín nodded dismissively at the man, and then thought of something. “Tell me—” He paused and looked for any insignia on the man’s uniform that might indicate rank. He saw none.

“Watch Captain Kettle, sir!” The rotund man threw out his chest and snapped to attention.

“Tell me, Captain Kettle—it has been a while since my last visit. Where might I find the most attractive whores in Freetown?”

The man squinted at Martín and then cocked his head as if he were hard of hearing.

“Beggin’ your pardon, did you say . . . whores, sir?”

“Yes, whores. Ladies of the evening? The muslin crowd? Daughters of Eve? Prostitutes.”

The man reddened. “Aye, sir. Whores.”

“The best in town, Captain.”

“That would be at the Magnolia House. Just follow this street until you can’t go any farther and take a left. You can’t miss it, sir.”

“Excellent, Watch Captain.” Martín nodded and headed in the direction the fellow had indicated. There was no time like the present to take care of his “pressing business.”

Chapter Nine

A loud pounding noise jolted him awake. “Captain? Captain Bouchard?”

“Eh?” Martín turned away from the door and rolled over onto a small body in the process. The woman beneath him grunted.

“Captain Bouchard!” the German woman—Bettina?—repeated before pounding even harder, the sound causing his head to throb.

“Mon Dieu,” Martín swore softly, so as not to cause himself unnecessary pain. He turned back the other way and came up against yet another body. He opened his eyes a crack and saw a soundly sleeping woman.

The pounding ceased, and the door opened. “Are you awake, Captain? There is a man from Admiral Keeton’s office to see you.”

“What does he want?” he croaked.

“I don’t know, but I don’t want any trouble. You must get dressed and go with him. He says he won’t leave without you. He is standing in the hallway and will not move. Captain? Captain! Macht schnell!” She came all the way into the room and yanked the blankets off him.