Page 20 of Lady Tempts a Rogue

You are aware that I am not like many of my girlhood friends. I have never possessed a driving need to discover my origins, nor have I centered my life around the hope of marriage and a family. I believe it paramount that we accept what we cannot change and pursue what we can if it is our heart’s desire. How often did you quote scripture, reminding us that the Lord knows his plans for us? To prosper us and not to harm us, and to give us hope and a future?

I shall admit to finding that difficult to believe at times, but hope is an enduring force. It empowers, energizes, and above all, equips me with optimism. I truly enjoy being a companion and traveling the world. When I consider the alternatives for a discarded child of unknown origins, I cannot help but be grateful that someone—though I likely shall never know who—chose to place me at Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Women.

I cannot contend that had I been born a male, my circumstances would have been any better, except for the basic rights men take for granted. So I accept my fate and seize each opportunity as it arises. The resulting memories shall inspire me in my loneliness when I am old, frail, and feeble.

I shall endeavor to find a keepsake to bring back to you. Perhaps something from Morocco.

~Miss Trinity Ablethorne, in a letter to Mrs. Hester Shepherd,

the proprietress of Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Women

Daunting Duchess’s saloon — a not very large, crowded cabin

Three hours later

Out of habit, Trinity tapped her chin with the end of her pencil as she regarded the sketch of Devin and Georgie. Legs crossed as if he were a lad himself, Devin sat on the floor, playing soldiers with the little fellow, who had tired of sword fighting some time ago.

Gladys and two of her dollies occupied a corner where an elaborate tea party with Lady Jersey and Queen Charlotte in attendance commenced.

Bearing toys for his children, Sir Godfrey had popped in an hour ago to check on his son and daughter. His wife, he explained, slept soundly, and he loathed disturbing her. When assured the children were no bother and that Trinity was happy to continue watching them, he thanked her profusely.

He needed to review documents for his new diplomatic assignment and would welcome uninterrupted quiet.

When she’d checked on Mrs. Peagilly before coming to the saloon, the dear woman had been pale and weak but maintained all she needed was to sleep in a completely dark cabin in utter silence. She had insisted that Trinity avail herself of the saloon and that she needn’t rush to return. It usually took four and twenty hours for Mrs. Peagilly to recover fully from one of her megrims.

Still, Trinity could not help but feel a trifle guilty, but what was she to do in a dark cabin? Nonetheless, she intended to peek in on her employer to ensure Mrs. Peagilly rested comfortably before making herself scarce again.

Misters Truman-Shelton and Meriwether sat shoulder to shoulder and heads together at the other end of the well-used table, pouring over ledgers and conversing in low tones. From time to time, one would glance up befuddled and appear almost puzzled that anyone else also occupied the paneled saloon.

As they had every time Trinity encountered the men, they wore almost identical charcoal gray suits, the one notable difference being their cravats. Mr. Truman-Shelton’s was a simple knot, while Mr. Meriwether’s neckcloth boasted a complicated waterfall Beau Brummel would’ve envied.

Given the lack of laundry facilities on the ship, that starched masterpiece would eventually become a limp, wilted shadow of what it now was.

Though the saloon acted as the dining quarters and a gathering area for passengers and ranking crew members, functionality was at the forefront of its design.

With her fingertip, Trinity traced a two-inch scratch on the long table, which dominated the cabin’s center. Scarred and scuffed from years of usage, like the other large pieces of furniture, metal strips held in place by nails anchored it to the floor.

A walnut sideboard for serving food took up most of one wall and scraped and scratched extra chairs took up the other. Two dusty lanterns, their sooty glass panes in need of a good scrub, hung from hooks over the table, and a faded blue tufted bench resided beneath the single porthole, atop which slept the ship’s cat, Duchess, her nose tucked beneath her fluffy tail.

In addition to conveying a limited number of passengers to various destinations, the Daunting Duchess mainly transported goods.

Trinity had learned those details from Mr. Alderton during supper last night. The man spoke of the ship with great affection, giving credence to the saying that a ship and the sea were tantalizing mistresses to some men.

The promised game of cards with Devin had not begun yet, but Trinity did not mind. She enjoyed watching his interactions with the children. Mayhap he had nieces and nephews in England and had acquired his patience and kindness from having spent time with them.

She had never had the opportunity to be around children. She liked them well enough but was not as skilled with little ones as were her friends Mercy, Chasity, and Purity, all of whom had either worked as governesses or instructors.

Trinity’s tummy growled, reminding her she’d only eaten a couple of spoonfuls of porridge this morning. In truth, she detested porridge, but one could not be picky at sea, where the fare was often limited. Particularly on merchant ships that did not cater to different classes of passengers.

It must be near the time for the midday meal, and she hoped for more palatable fare to fill her complaining stomach. Even stew and bread would suffice.

Mr. Everingham really ought to have eaten something before now too. Guilt pricked her because had she not invited him to join her and the children in the saloon, he would’ve been able to pick at his breakfast tray at his leisure.

The door creaked open, and a much-refreshed Mrs. McKinnick swept in.

“Mama,” cried Georgie, holding up two tin soldiers and grinning. “I won the battle.”

That his thumb was not stuck in his mouth and had not been for the better part of an hour said much about how much fun he was having.