‘But not for much longer, I’ll be bound. Look at her!’
Averil struggled to her feet. ‘Lady Olivia, I am aware that I must present a most disreputable appearance, but—’
The older woman fixed her with a withering look. ‘Have you, or have you not, spent five nights in the company of this man, Miss Heydon?’
‘Well, yes, but nothing … I mean, it was all perfectly—’
‘Your blushes say it all! George, for you to expect me to lend countenance to Captain Dornay’s amours is outside of enough. Must I remind you that you have two daughters of an impressionable age? They have already seen and heard things that they should not with the house full of half-drowned persons for days on end and whatever is going on up at the Star Fort with Lavinia’s friend—’
‘Oh, of course! You will know about Dita!’ Averil interrupted her. ‘Please, can you tell me who was saved?’
Lady Olivia looked down her nose. ‘Dita?’
‘Lady Perdita Brooke. She is a particular friend of mine.’
‘You know Lady Perdita?’ The Governor’s wife relaxed a trifle.
Old snob, Averil thought. ‘Yes, very well. Please—’
‘Lady Perdita was heroically rescued by Viscount Lyndon.’ From her expression Lady Olivia obviously approved of Alistair. ‘They both left for the mainland yesterday along with most of the other survivors.’
‘Thank goodness.’ Averil sat down again with a thump. ‘And Mrs Bastable, my chaperon? And the Chatterton twins? Daniel and Callum?’
The room went very quiet. ‘Mr Daniel Chatterton was drowned. His body was recovered and his brother has taken it back to the mainland for burial,’ the Governor said. ‘I will have my secretary give you a list of those saved, those known to be dead and those still missing.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, the schooled politeness forming the words for her while her chest ached with the need to weep. Daniel dead? All that fun and intelligence and personality, gone in an instant. Poor, poor Callum. What a tragic homecoming for him. And Daniel was betrothed—Callum would have that awful news to break to a woman who had been waiting years for her lover to return to her.
‘Miss Heydon should rest,’ Luc said. ‘She has received bad news and she is exhausted. We have been at sea all night.’
‘And why it was necessary for her to accompany you out to sea, I really cannot understand,’ Lady Olivia interjected.
‘And why should you?’ Luc said with a smile that would have frozen water. ‘All this can wait, surely? Miss Heydon should retire. She will need a bath, some food—’
‘Kindly allow me to know what is required for female guests in this house, Captain Dornay or d’Aunay or whatever your name is. Miss Heydon, if you will accompany me, please.’ It was an order. Averil did not miss the point that she was a female, not a lady, in Lady Olivia’s eyes. Friendship with Dita might save her from a room in the garrets with the servants, but the Governor’s wife had not forgotten the scandalous circumstances of her rescue.
It was an effort not to seek out Luc’s eyes, not to send a message—help me, take me back to our island and make love to me—but pride stiffened her spine and allowed her to stand, smile at her reluctant hostess and bid the gentlemen good-night as though she was a house party guest.
‘Good night, Sir George. Good night, Captain d’Aunay.’ She pronounced his surname with care, not that the older woman seemed to notice the implied reproof. She wanted to ask when she would see Luc again, but that would raise Lady Olivia’s suspicions even higher. ‘Thank you, Lady Olivia.’ If a curtsy had not been ridiculous in damp cotton trousers and a smelly Guernsey she would have produced one before she followed her hostess out.
‘I will send a maid to you.’ Lady Olivia seemed to unbend a trifle now they were away from the men. ‘Goodness knows what we can do about clothing. We have had the house full of survivors for days, none of them with so much as a pocket handkerchief to their names, of course.’
A blonde lady in her mid-thirties appeared round the corner, a list in one hand. ‘Oh, there you are, Olivia.’ She peered at Averil, then raised her eyebrows. ‘Another survivor from the Bengal Queen?’
‘Indeed, Sister. Miss Heydon has fallen into most undesirable company—’
‘But at least she is alive,’ the other woman said, her warmth reaching Averil like a comforting touch. ‘I am so glad for you, my dear.’ She held out her hand. ‘I am Lavinia Gordon, Sir George’s sister.’
‘I was just saying that I have no idea what to do about suitable clothing,’ her sister-in-law interjected.
‘I am sure I have something I can spare—we are much of a size, I suspect. If you tell the maid to come and see me, Sister, I will put out some clothes for Miss Heydon.’ She glanced down at the shocking trousers. ‘Do tell me, are those as comfortable as they look?’
‘They chafe rather when wet, but the freedom is a revelation, Miss Gordon. Thank you so much for offering to lend me clothing.’ Beside her, Lady Olivia tutted under her breath and urged her along the corridor.
‘The next door on the left, Miss Heydon. I will send the maid along.’ Averil found herself in a medium-sized bedchamber. Not a garret then. Perhaps Lady Olivia would unbend still further when she saw Averil properly dressed.
Lord, but she was tired. And hungry. And thoroughly uncomfortable with damp clothes and dirty, tangled hair. As she thought it there was a tap at the door and a maid came in.
‘Good morning, miss. I am Waters, miss. There’s hot water and a bath on its way up. Would you like some breakfast afterwards? Miss Gordon said you probably would, before you go to sleep. Her woman’s bringing a nightgown and fresh linen and a gown.’ She ran out of words and stood, mouth slightly open, staring at Averil.