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‘I think not. Carry on round the coast to Lynn, as long as the wind is fair. We will be home all the sooner.’
‘I wondered if the passengers might wish to go to London.’
‘The Comte is not fit to go anywhere with only his daughter to help him. If they want to go to the capital, then it will be after the Comte has recovered some of his strength at Highbeck.’
‘Miss Giradet might not wish to be so far from London and her compatriots.’
That had not occurred to him; few people refused an invitation to Blackfen Manor. His mother’s hospitality was legendary. ‘I will speak to her about it.’
He returned to the lower deck and knocked on the door of the Comte’s cabin, guessing she would be with her father.
Lisette, who had been sitting beside her father’s bunk watching him sleep, rose and went to the door to find Jay standing there in breeches and a shirt. He wore no coat, cravat or headgear. His injured arm was strapped across his chest underneath the shirt, the empty sleeve of which hung at his side. He was a little more covered than he had been when she had visited him in his cabin, but he still brought the heat rushing to her cheeks at the memory of what she had done. Kissing his hand like that was the act of a wanton, as if she were throwing herself at him, when in truth it was simply that she could not find the words to express her gratitude.
After rushing from his cabin, she had shut herself in with her father to calm herself and decided she would have to try to avoid Jay Drymore until they landed and parted, but in the confines of a small ship that was going to be difficult unless she stayed in her cabin. Even that would not work, because he could come to her. Here he was, looking at her as if nothing had happened, making her heart beat too fast for comfort.
‘Papa is sleeping,’ she whispered.
‘Then perhaps it is a convenient time to take a turn on deck.’ He kept his voice low. ‘I wish to speak to you.’
‘Oh.’ Was he going to mention it? Had he taken that kiss as an invitation and was here to claim his reward? Or was he going to tell her he was disgusted with her? ‘I do not think I should leave Papa. He might wake…’
‘I will ask my grandfather to bear him company and I will not keep you above a few minutes.’
There was no help for it. She stepped into the passage and closed the door gently behind her. He followed her up the companionway on to the deck where they found Sir John standing at the rail, looking for his first glimpse of England. He readily agreed to go down and sit with his friend.
‘Now, shall we take a walk about the deck?’ he said. ‘The sea does not make you feel ill?’
‘Not while it is calm.’
‘You are comfortable in your cabin?’
‘Yes. I had not realised a small vessel such as this could be so well equipped.’
‘It was built to my father’s design. Have you made many sea voyages?’
‘I used to go with my parents when Papa went trading, but not for many years. My mother’s death hit him hard and he would not leave Villarive.’ The conversation was so normal, so unexceptional, an exchange of pleasantries, no more, but it was an effort on her part. She was waiting with trepidation for him to state the true reason for wanting to speak to her. It was not to discuss voyages and trade, she felt sure.
‘I understand.’
‘Yes, of course. You have suffered loss yourself.’ Now she was becoming personal and that she had never intended. Since the advent of Jay Drymore in her life, she had started to speak and act without thinking and she did not seem able to cure herself. ‘I am sorry. I did not mean to remind you.’
‘Do not keep apologising, mademoiselle, or thanking me. There is no need for either.’
‘Oh.’ Now he was referring to that kiss. As a rebuff it could not have been more plain. She wished the deck would open up and cast her into the sea, she felt so mortified.
‘I wish to know your intentions,’ he said, apparently impervious to her discomfort. ‘When we reach England, I mean.’
‘Intentions?’ Oh, this was dreadful. What did he expect her to say? Did he think she was asking him to…? Oh, no, she could not. Somehow she managed to regain her composure and stiffened her spine. ‘My intentions are my own affair.’
‘Of course.’ He bowed stiffly. ‘You do not have to tell me of them, but it has been pointed out to me that you might wish to go to London and in that case, we will need to put in to Dover, or alternately sail round the Kent coast and up the Thames. At least that way, your father would be saved an uncomfortable ride in a public coach, but it would take longer.’ He paused while she wondered what was coming next. ‘I have to tell you I am reluctant to do either because the Comte is so frail. He requires careful nursing and time to recuperate and I am sure my mother would welcome you both at Blackfen Manor. There is ample room and he will be able to regain his strength in the peaceful surroundings of Highbeck.’
