Page 26 of Lady Tempts a Rogue

Chin tucked to his chest and arms behind his back, the captain gave a severe nod. He took a step nearer and murmured in a subdued tone, “Mr. Morris just informed me that Mrs. Peagilly has passed from this world.”

What?

Devin shook his head.

He could not have heard correctly.

Mrs. Peagilly merely had a headache.

He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Peagilly…died?”

The captain gave a grave nod. “Sadly so. Massive apoplexy, according to Morris. Nothing could be done. I shall perform the funeral tomorrow morning.”

Devin hid a wince.

Mrs. Peagilly would rest on the bottom of the Atlantic for eternity. There was no way to preserve a body for months until the Daunting Duchess returned to England. And yet, somehow, that seemed fitting for the adventurous woman.

Trinity.

He snapped his head up.

“Miss Ablethorne?”

“Is distraught but composed. Even now, she prepares Mrs. Peagilly’s body.”

Who else would do it?

Mrs. McKinnick?

Surely not a sailor.

“Sweet Jesus.” Devin clasped his nape. “What is to become of Miss Ablethorne?”

The captain stared at him blankly. “I am afraid I do not take your meaning.”

“She was to remain in Mrs. Peagilly’s company for at least a year. She doesn’t know her employer’s itinerary or her contact in Morocco, and I am certain she hasn’t enough funds to support herself.”

Probably not monies for return passage either.

“You seem to know quite a lot about her.” Captain Breckett’s expression remained unchanged, yet his voice contained the merest undefinable inflection.

“She and Mrs. Peagilly did attend me for three days while I was ill.”

Not that Devin was capable of more than one-or-two-word grunts.

“Hmph.” The captain grazed his callused fingers over his beard. “We have a problem then.”

“Which is?”

“The passenger quarters are fully booked for the next four ports. Miss Ablethorne cannot return to England on the Daunting Duchess, and I cannot in good conscience discharge her, a lone female with no recourse, into a foreign country.”

“Surely, there is a single available berth for her?” Devin well understood how dire Trinity’s situation was. An unchaperoned English woman was not safe in London, let alone Morocco.

“No, there is not. Many more English are eager to leave Morocco than visit. I have heard there is widespread sickness. I am not permitting my men to go ashore except to unload our cargo.” Captain Breckett’s intense gaze bore into Devin. “As the ship’s owner, the responsibility lies with you to remedy the situation.”

“Me?” Devin stared at him as if the captain had sprouted another nose. “What can I do?”

He barely knew Trinity and was a stranger to Africa himself. Naturally, his man of affairs had made arrangements in advance for lodgings, an interpreter, and transportation, but those details did not include accommodating a female.

Devin was quite out of his element, and if there were sickness in the city…

Yet, he could not abandon her either.

Trinity had no one—no one but him.

The captain slapped him on the shoulder.

“I am sure you will come up with something.” His countenance grew grim. “For her sake, you had better. Fair-skinned, blue-eyed women are valuable on the slave market. Particularly innocents.”

Was he saying…?

He could not mean…

Was Trinity in danger of being abducted and sold as a sex slave?

Devin gulped against the surge of bile billowing up his throat.

Not, by God, as long as he drew breath.