Page 12 of Lady Tempts a Rogue

“Though, I was not certain I would end up in heaven and not hell, where I probably belong.”

Trinity had been seasick and did not remember being as confused as this man was.

He put an unsteady hand to her hair, once again exposed as her hood had slipped off when she snaked her arm around his sculpted ribs.

“I thought angels had white hair. Yours is sable. Sleek and soft as an American mink.”

Mink?

She puzzled her forehead.

What kind of creature was that?

“Mink.”

“Yes, my father dabbled in fur trading for a short while. The mink pelts are lovely, soft, and luxurious, but Father could not abide killing animals for their fur. Many thought that made him weak, but it took courage to oppose what he steadfastly believed immoral when most others found the practice acceptable.”

“I agree. However, I am no angel but a flesh and blood woman,” she said crisply.

It would not do for him to form a wrong idea about her.

“A very soft and nice-smelling woman.”

He sniffed her hair. “Mmm, you smell good. Like summer flowers.”

Good Lord.

Shaking her head, Trinity made a scoffing sound. “You are too ill to make any sense. Save your breath and strength.”

They crossed beneath a lantern just as she glanced upward and caught his face in full light.

Everything snapped into place as memory rushed back to her.

She recognized him then.

Devin Everingham.

“I remember you,” she said. “I thought you looked familiar. You were at the Mumfords’ house party in August.”

It had been the house party.

He’d been one of the rapscallions, always flirting with a different woman, drinking more than he ought to have done, and, in general, behaving as one would expect a rake and a rogue to behave.

Disappointment so bitter Trinity could taste it welled up her throat.

Which was stupid in the extreme.

It made no difference to her if he was a scapegrace. A libertine. A man about town.

“I was.” He squinted down at her. “But I do not remember you. At least, I do not think I do.”

What a surprise.

He had been too busy flirting with the perfumed and pampered ladies of the ton.

He gave her another cockeyed grin. “Surely, I would remember you.”

Except, when he had first boarded the Daunting Duchess, he had reacted as if he did recognize her.

“I shall take over, Miss Ablethorne.”

Mr. Compton strode forward, not the least benevolent in demeanor. A severe scowl creased his forehead, and disapproving lines bracketed his firm mouth.

Had Captain Breckett seen her predicament and instructed the second officer to aid her?

“Mr. Everingham should have remained in his cabin if he was such a poor sailor,” Mr. Compton said as he traded places with Trinity.

“Sorry about that, old chap.” Mr. Everingham offered a weak, apologetic grin. “Never sailed before, you know. Thought the fresh air might help my queasiness.”

“I would advise you to stay in your cabin with a slop bucket nearby in the future,” Mr. Compton said between clenched teeth with all of the warmth of a coiled viper.

“Aye, aye.” Giving the gruff officer an imbecilic grin, Mr. Everingham tried to stand up straight and salute.

His eyes rounded in horror a second before he vomited on Mr. Compton’s glossy boots.