Page 67 of Lady of Charade
“Do you have a Miss Jones aboard?” he asked, his breath coming in huffs between words. The men looked at him as though he had gone mad, but he persisted, asking once more. At the very least, his question had halted them in their actions.
“Pretty little thing?” the one asked with a smile that, while certainly not malicious, caused David to want to lean over and wipe it off of his face.
“You could say that,” he said.
“Aye, I believe she’s aboard,” the sailor answered, “But you’re out of luck, chap. The ship is sailing and the captain ain’t going to want to wait any longer.”
“Thank you,” David said with a cordial nod as though he was going to adhere to the words and he began walking away, although noting that the gangplank was still down, when he came close enough he ran aboard.
“Hey!” the man yelled, but David didn’t wait in his urgency.
“Who are you and what are you doing on my ship?”
The man who came out of the shadows had long dark hair, and was, David could admit, a good-looking man. The top of his shirt was open to reveal a dark chest, and David instantly bristled at the thought of Sarah spending any length of time on a ship with this man — never mind that it wasn’t entirely his decision as to what she did or didn’t do.
“I’m looking for a woman who I believe is a passenger — Miss Sarah Jones.”
The captain crossed his arms over his chest.
“Why should I give you any information about one of my passengers?”
“Please,” David said, trying to appeal to the man’s understanding side. “I have to find her before she leaves London, or I may never see her again.”
“Perhaps that’s what the lady wants.”
“I just need to speak with her.”
“We are setting sail,” the captain said with a shrug. “If you’d like to stay on board, then you best buy your passage.”
David looked around him, at the two sailors who were ready to throw the last remaining rope on board, the small plank leading down to the dock, and the river before them.
If Sarah wasn’t on board, he would regret this decision for the rest of his life, but at the moment, he had no other option.
“Very well,” he said. “How much?”
The captain grinned, clearly seeing the opportunity for an easy extra passage. When he named his amount, David rocked forward.
“For a short sail? Even if I wanted to pay you that much, I do not have it on me, man,” he said, and the captain shrugged, as though he was glad he at least had tried.
“What do you have then?”
David rifled through his pockets, finally bringing out a fair amount of notes, which the captain looked over.
“Good enough,” he said. “I’ve one berth left. Doesn’t look like you have much to pack away.”
The man laughed heartily, and David attempted to swallow his impatience.
“Where is she?”
“I’m not sure I know of who you’re talking, mate.”
David brought a hand to his forehead. He’d been had. He should have known. Damn, but he had been a fool. He looked behind him, seeing the port was now retreating into the distance.
It was too late. He’d not only likely lost Sarah forever, but now he was bound for bloody Plymouth.
He turned back around to tell the captain exactly what he thought of his deception but was halted in his tracks when he saw a woman’s silhouette before him, her face obscured by the setting sun behind her. But he would know that shape anywhere.
“David? Whatever are you doing here?”
