The Other Miss Bridgerton

It took her a few tries to get the bed rail down, and once she had her feet on the floor she raised and lowered it several times until she understood how it worked. It was very cleverly made, and she wished she could see the inner workings—hinges and springs and whatnot. One of her brothers had fallen out of bed quite frequently as a child; a contraption such as this would have been brilliant.

She set the rail into its down position, then moved to the basin so she could splash some water on her face. She might as well greet the day, such as it was. The cabin was dim, with only a thin stripe of light filtering in at the curtain’s edge. A glance at the clock told her it was already half eight, so she took care with her balance—the captain had been correct; the sea was rougher now that they were well into the Atlantic—and wobbled over to the windows to draw back the heavy fabric.

“Oh!”

The sound escaped her lips without conscious thought. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see—well, to be honest, she’d expected exactly what she did see, which was the ocean, stretching out for miles and miles until it kissed the blue edge of the horizon. But even so, she had not been prepared for the sheer beauty of it, the enormity, the immensity of it all.

Or how very small it would make her feel.

But it was gorgeous. No, it was more than that. It was tremendous, and she could almost be glad for the circumstances that had brought her here to see it.

She leaned her forehead against the cool glass. For ten minutes she stood there, watching the play of the waves, the way they formed frosty tips like meringues. Every now and then a bird flew into view, and she wondered how far they were from land, and how far a bird could fly before it needed to set itself down. And surely some birds could fly farther than others—what made them able to do that? The weight? The wingspan?

There were so many things she did not know, and so many things she hadn’t known to ponder, and now she was stuck here in this cabin instead of up on deck where she might have a grander view of the world.

“They can’t be that superstitious,” she muttered, pushing herself back from the window. Honestly, it was ridiculous that the sailors clung to such nonsense in this day and age. Her eyes fell on the tooth powder the captain had left out for her. She hadn’t used it yet. It would serve those sailors right if she ignored it and then went above deck and breathed on everyone.

She rubbed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Good heavens, her morning mouth was appalling.

She cleaned her teeth, deciding that she enjoyed the minty flavor of the captain’s powder, then plopped down in a chair by the window with the book she’d started the night before. It was a treatise on navigation, and truth be told, she didn’t understand half of it, but it was clear that it had not been written for novices.

She’d managed a few more pages when a knock sounded at the door.

“Billy,” she said, because it must be he. She stood as he let himself in.

He was as red-faced as ever, carrying a tray with her breakfast.

“Good morning,” she said, determined to get him to speak to her. “Oh, is that tea?”

“Yes, miss,” he stammered.

“How heavenly. I hadn’t thought—well, in truth I hadn’t thought.”

Billy turned to her with a perplexed expression. Well, not exactly. He still looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but in her company, but now he also looked confused about his chances for escape.

“I had not given any thought to whether there would be tea,” she explained. “But if I had considered it, I’m not sure I would have thought I’d be so lucky.”

Billy seemed not to know what to make of her meandering statement, and he put the tray down and got down to work setting her a place at the table. “The captain insists on it. Says it keeps us civilized. That an’ brandy.”

“How fortunate for us all.”

Billy made a noise that could have been a chuckle if he would allow himself to relax. “He doesn’t share the brandy. But he’s free with the tea.”

Poppy blinked at the sheer number of words that had just emerged from the boy’s mouth. “Well, it’s still fortunate,” she said. “I am very fond of tea.”

Billy nodded. “You’re a proper lady.”

Poppy smiled wistfully. He really was a sweet boy. “How old are you, Billy?”

He looked up with surprise. “Thirteen, miss.”

“Oh. I’d thought you younger.” Then she could have kicked herself; boys of his age never liked to be mistaken for little children.

But Billy just shrugged. “I know. Everyone thinks I’m not even twelve. M’dad says he didn’t grow until he was almost sixteen.”

“Well then, I’m sure you shall have a spurt soon,” Poppy said encouragingly. “I’m not likely to see you again after this voyage, but if I did, I would expect you to grow as tall as the captain.”

He smiled at this. “You’re not so bad, miss.”

“Thank you.” It was a bit ridiculous how pleased she felt by his compliment.

“Never met a proper lady before.” He shuffled from foot to foot. “Didn’t think you’d be so nice t’me.”

“I try to be nice to everyone.” She frowned. “Except perhaps the captain.”

Billy’s mouth fell open, and he looked as if he didn’t know if he should laugh or gasp.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I jest.”

Well, a little.

“The captain is the best of men,” Billy said fervently. “I promise you. You’ll not meet finer. I know I said he doesn’t share his brandy, but he’s right good in all other ways, an’ I don’t like brandy, anyway.”

“I’m sure you’re correct,” she said with what she called her drawing room smile. It was the one she used when she did not mean to be in sincere . . . but she was not quite being honest either. “I’m just a bit vexed that I’m here.”

“You’re not the only one.” Billy clapped a hand to his mouth. “I’m sorry, miss!”

But Poppy was already laughing. “No, don’t apologize. It was very amusing. And from what I’ve heard, true.”

Billy scrunched up his face in sympathy. “It’s not normal to have a lady on board, Miss Poppy. I’ve heard fearsome tales of disaster.”

“Disaster brought about by the presence of a woman?”

Billy nodded, perhaps a little too vigorously. “But I don’t believe it. Not anymore. The captain told me it weren’t true. An’ he doesn’t lie.”

“Ever?”

“Never.” Billy said this so firmly Poppy thought he might salute.

“Well,” Poppy said briskly, “thank you for bringing breakfast. I am quite hungry.”

“Yes, miss. If y’want, just leave the tray outside the door. Then I won’t have to bother you when I collect it.”

Poppy couldn’t bring herself to tell him that their conversations were likely to be the high point of her day, so instead she said, “It won’t be a bother. And besides, I don’t think I’m permitted to open the door.”

Billy frowned. “Not even open it?”

Poppy shrugged and held her hands out as if to say, Who knows? “The captain and I did not discuss the particulars of my confinement.”

“Seems a bit unreasonable,” Billy said, scratching his head. “The captain’s not usually like that.”

Poppy shrugged again, this time tipping her head to the side in an I-don’t-know-what-to-tell-you expression.

“Well,” Billy said with a little bow, “I hope you enjoy your breakfast. I think Cook gave you bacon.”

“Thank you again, Billy. I—” She cut herself off when he opened the door. “Oh, one thing!”

He paused. “Yes, miss?”

“Can I peek out?”

“Beg pardon?”

It was ludicrous that she even had to ask. “Can I peek outside the door? I haven’t even seen the corridor.”

“How’d you get here?”

“I was in a sack.”