A Most Unconventional Courtship

‘Then he has my heartfelt admiration. I think you had better tell me exactly what he did do.’

Blushing and stammering, Alessa stumbled through the barest outline. ‘I didn’t know that people did that sort of thing. I mean, is that normal?’

‘Very,’ Kate assured her. ‘Perfectly normal. You’ve got a good man there.’

‘But I haven’t got him, that’s the problem,’ Alessa blurted out. ‘I love him and I thought perhaps if he had made love to me when he couldn’t enjoy it himself it meant he cared for me and wanted to please me.’ To pleasure my lady. ‘But why, then hasn’t he come and said anything? He hasn’t even offered me a carte blanche. Not that I’d accept one,’ she added hastily.

‘That’s a poser, I agree.’ Kate chewed her lip thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know enough about these smart ladies and gentlemen and what’s the done thing. But do you think he thinks he needs to have your aunt’s blessing? Or at least ask you formally up at the Residency, to make it all respectable, sort of thing? And you did say your aunt has taken to her bed and isn’t intending to get up until tomorrow.’

‘Oh, yes, that must be it. Chance is very conventional in some ways, you know. Oh, thank you Kate, that is such a relief.’ Alessa felt an almost physical weight lifting off her heart. He couldn’t have made love to her so selflessly, spoken to her so tenderly, if he didn’t feel something for her. Tomorrow, when she went to the Residency, then he would say something.

Chance spent the day, as he had the previous one, closeted with Sir Thomas, Mr Harrison and the senior naval officers in port. They traced routes on charts, measured distances and interrogated him for every detail he could recall until his brain ached.

‘Yes, definitely modern rifles,’ he confirmed when the senior gunnery officer looked up from his lists and queried what Chance could recall of hand weapons. ‘All mixed up with flintlocks and some incredible long-muzzled objects that looked antique to me.’

‘Right.’ Admiral Fortescue ran an eye over his notes. ‘And this pirate who was at the wheel when Argos picked you up—where is he now?’

‘I have no idea,’ Chance said firmly. ‘I would have had one hell of a job managing without him, and although he was only helping us to save his fat hide, I still owed him a debt, so I let him slip away.’

‘Very well.’ The admiral looked down his beak of a nose disapprovingly. ‘Let us go over the description of the hidden harbour one more time.’

Finally, at about seven o’clock, the meeting broke up. Sir Thomas ushered out the naval men and Chance found himself slumped at the long baize-covered table opposite Mr Harrison.

It occurred to him that the man was looking less than his normal composed and efficient self. He would be tired, of course, they had spent two intensive days in talk and analysis; but even so, he was looking positively haggard. Chance felt a spurt of fellow feeling—he could sympathise with any man in that state, just at the moment.

He did not expect the suggestion to meet with agreement, but he asked casually, ‘What do you say we take a bottle of claret down to the billiard room and knock a few balls about?’

The other man looked down blankly at the piles of paper littering the table, raked one hand through his usually neatly ordered hair, and said, ‘I’m damned if that doesn’t sound a good plan. Just let me get these locked away safely.’

‘I’ll ring for the wine; see you down there.’ Chance strolled down to the billiard room and began to chalk a cue, brooding pleasurably on the prospect of seeing Alessa in the morning.

She had had two days to recover and to be reunited with the children; it would have been insensitive to intrude on that, and unwise considering the touchy state of Lady Blackstone’s nerves over the involvement of the young women in that adventure. She had the comfort of knowing that Frances had been with her every moment, but her niece had vanished, only to reappear in his company and in male clothes.

And the doctor knew about it, and the captain of the Argos had seen Alessa in male attire. Chance felt confident that neither would gossip, but he could understand her ladyship’s anxieties. Everything would go much more smoothly once he explained his intention of a secret betrothal, which could then be made public on their return to England. There could be no suspicion then that he had found it necessary to propose as a result of anything that had happened abroad and Alessa’s character could be established in society first.

He was pleasurably recalling those heated momen

ts in the cabin when Harrison arrived, along with the footman and the wine. ‘Fine, thank you, leave it.’ The secretary seized the bottle and poured himself a large draught, which he swallowed at a gulp before slopping some into Chance’s glass.

Chance felt his eyebrows rise. Harrison was a moderate drinker at all times, silent to the point of being self-effacing, and always composed. Now he looked like a man who had experienced a nasty shock.

Chance began to pot balls at random. ‘We’ve had a tough couple of days. I feel my brain’s been through a ringer,’ he tossed back over his shoulder.

‘Sir Thomas is like that, thorough. I’m used to it.’ The secretary took another gulp of wine and began to chalk his cue.

‘Play for love, or do you want some money on it?’ Chance enquired, filling both glasses and pushing one into Harrison’s hand. The secretary sank it without apparently noticing he had done so.

‘What the hell, money if you like. What’s the point of saving my salary if I can’t use it how I want?’ He sent a red violently across the table to strike the cushion.

‘Want to talk about it?’ Chance offered, refilling the glasses. ‘I’m not given to gossip.’

‘Women!’ Harrison said wildly. ‘What’s the point?’ He refilled his glass and stared owlishly at Chance. ‘All right for you, you’re an Earl, I’m just a damned secretary.’

‘Is this about Miss Trevick?’ Best to cut to the chase. Chance began to wonder if he’d overdone the wine. He had intended to loosen the man up a little; at this rate he was going to be carrying him to bed.

‘How do you know?’

‘I’ve got eyes in my head,’ Chance retorted. ‘What’s the matter, have you fallen out?’