Page 29 of Lady Tempts a Rogue

If only that were true for her too.

“Miss Ablethorne, would you join me in my cabin for a glass of sherry and a small repast in Mrs. Peagilly’s honor?” Captain Breckett asked.

“That is kind of you, Captain,” Trinity said, even as her empty stomach gurgled a complaint, her belly button gnawing at her spine. “And I gratefully accept.”

Normally, Trinity did not partake in spirits. She did not like the taste, but she would make an exception today. Besides, she was famished. Other than the few mouthfuls of porridge she choked down yesterday morning, she had not eaten.

Captain Breckett sent his gaze around those gathered nearby. “Mr. Everingham, Mr. Truman-Shelton, Mr. Meriwether, Mr. and Mrs. McKinnick?”

It was gracious of the captain to include everyone. The longer Trinity knew him, the more she admired and respected him.

Mrs. McKinnick shook her head.

“Thank you, Captain, but I shall pass on your generous offer. The children and I shall take a nap. None of us slept well last night.”

Word of Mrs. Peagilly’s untimely passing had buzzed through the ship in a matter of minutes. No one appeared well-rested other than Mr. Compton.

Facing her husband, Mrs. McKinnick laid a hand on his arm. “But you do go along, dear. Enjoy a toast in memory of dear Mrs. Peagilly.”

Her eyes filled with tears again.

Trinity was not sure if the woman’s delicate condition contributed to her emotional state or if she wept easily.

“I shan’t stay long, darling.” He pecked her cheek before she escorted her offspring toward the stairs. “Have a lie-down. I shall ask Cook to prepare a nice tea for you afterward.”

Devin approached, still holding the vessel-like instrument. “May I escort you?”

A scowl marring his handsome features, Mr. Compton halted several feet away.

Had he been of the same inclination as Devin?

She felt his accusing, almost possessive stare boring into her.

Other than the first night, they’d had no more time alone, so why would he think he had a claim on her?

“I am hardly in need of an escort.” Trinity’s reply was as much for Mr. Compton’s benefit as Devin’s. Besides, it was true. This was not London.

The second officer canted his head and momentarily disappeared below. That meant Mr. Alderton was the officer in charge. Odd, but she found that reassuring.

Of course, Mr. Compton must be perfectly capable, but his demeanor became more off-putting with each passing day.

The others moved toward the hatchway too.

She pointed to Devin’s instrument as he fell in step beside her. “What is that?”

“It is a type of vessel flute. I am unsure of the actual name. I do know, however, that versions date back several hundred years and that similar instruments have been found in many cultures. It was a gift from my father from one of his journeys abroad.”

“Very, very old,” the sailor possessing a similar unique instrument said, clasping his calloused hands around the flute and bowing. “I am Bandar Amzil. This was my great-grandfather’s flute, given to him by a Spaniard many moons ago and passed down from son to son to son.”

His coffee brown eyes alight with pleasure, Devin grinned and offered the man his hand.

Trinity had noticed that about him.

He treated everyone equally—with dignity and respect, regardless of their social standing, unlike Mr. Compton.

One would think a man of Devin’s wealth would be more arrogant and condescending than a ship’s second officer. Unless aristocrats perched somewhere in Mr. Compton’s family tree, thus giving him a sense of bloated importance.

Knowing nothing about either man’s family, Trinity could only draw upon her observations. Devin was a rogue, a man about town, but he was also kind and considerate. Mr. Compton seemed a polished gentleman, but his behavior suggested he was not as honorable and decent as he portrayed.