The Other Miss Bridgerton

“Alarming that we find it so alarming,” she returned.

“There is much to dissect in that comment,” he said, pushing off from the edge of the table, “but alas, I haven’t the time.”

“And yet you spared some for me,” she remarked. “To what do I owe this pleasure of your company?”

“A pleasure, is it?” he murmured, heading over to his wardrobe. He did not let her reply before adding, “No? It will be.”

“What are you talking about?”

He enjoyed her befuddled tone, but he didn’t bother with further conversation as he dug through his belongings. It had been some time since he’d brought out the puzzle, and it was wedged at the back of the wardrobe behind a broken kaleidoscope and a pair of socks. The wooden pieces were stored in a velvet pouch, purple with a gold drawstring. All in all, quite regal.

He set it down on the table. “I thought you might enjoy this.”

She looked at the velvet pouch and then at him, her brows arched in question.

“It’s a dissected map,” he told her.

“A what?”

“Have you never seen one?”

She shook her head, so he opened the pouch and let the pieces spill out onto the wooden tabletop. “They were very popular about ten years ago,” he explained. “A cartographer by the name of Spilsbury fixed a map onto a wooden board and then cut the countries and seas at their borders. He thought it would help to teach geography. I believe the first few went to the royal family.”

“Oh, I know what you’re talking about,” she exclaimed. “But the ones I’ve seen had nowhere near so many pieces.”

“Yes, this one is unique. I had it commissioned myself.” He took a seat diagonal to her and spread out a few of the pieces, flipping them over so that the map side was up. “Most of the dissected maps are cut along borders—national boundaries, rivers, coasts—that sort of thing. I already know my geography, but I rather like to put things together, so I asked if mine could instead be cut into many random small shapes.”

Her lips parted with wonder, and she picked up one of the pieces. “And then you have fit them together,” she said almost reverently. “That’s brilliant! How many pieces are there?”

“Five hundred.”

“Never say it!”

“Give or take,” Andrew admitted modestly. “I haven’t counted them.”

“I’ll count them,” Miss Bridgerton said. “It’s not as if I don’t have the time.”

She didn’t seem to have said it as a complaint, so he turned a few more pieces over and said, “The best way to get started is to look for—”

“No, don’t tell me!” she cut in. “I want to figure it out for myself.” She picked up a piece and squinted at it.

“The writing is small,” he said.

“My eyes are young.” She looked up, aforementioned eyes glinting with delight. “It says IC . Not terribly helpful. But it’s blue, so it could be the Baltic. Or the Atlantic.”

“Or the Pacific.”

She looked surprised. “How big is the map?”

“The known world,” he told her, a little surprised by the boastfulness in his voice. He was proud of the puzzle; as far as he knew, no other map had been dissected into quite as many pieces. But that wasn’t why he’d been bragging, and it wasn’t because she was so obviously happy for the first time since he’d met her. It was—

Dear God, he’d wanted to impress her.

He jolted to his feet. “I have to get back.”

“Yes, fine,” she said distractedly, far more interested in the puzzle than anything he had to say. “I’ll be here, as you know.”

He watched her as he walked to the door. She didn’t glance at him even once. He should be glad that she had not noticed his abrupt change in disposition. “Billy will bring you something to eat this afternoon,” he said.

“That will be nice.” She picked up another piece and examined it, taking a sip of tea before setting it down to study another.

He tapped the handle of the door. “Do you have any preferences?”

“Hmmm?”

“For food. Do you have any preferences? Other than the strawberries, of course.”

She looked up and blinked, as if she was surprised he was still there. “I’m not terribly fond of asparagus, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You’re unlikely to encounter that on board,” he said. “We do try to keep fruits and vegetables, but never anything that expensive.”

She shrugged and turned back to the puzzle. “I’m sure anything will be fine.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “I’m pleased you’re getting on so well. I realize it is not an ideal situation.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He cocked his head to the side, watching her as she started flipping pieces over so the map side faced her. “It’s really too bad I don’t have another one of those puzzles,” he said.

“Hmmm.”

“I’ll be going, then.”

“Hmm-mmm.” This one came out with an up-and-down lilt, as if she were saying good-bye.

“Well,” he said gruffly. “Good-bye.”

She lifted a hand in farewell, even as her attention remained fixed on the wooden pieces. “Bye!”

Andrew stepped out of the cabin and into the corridor, making sure the door closed and locked behind him. She could get out, of course. It would have been irresponsible of him to have left her there without a means to evacuate. The Infinity had never had a problem, but one had to be careful at sea.

He unlocked the door and barged back in. “You do know you have a key?”

This got her attention. “I beg your pardon?”

“A key. Right over there in the top drawer. It’s highly unlikely, but if there were an emergency, you would be able to leave the cabin.”

“You wouldn’t come get me?”

“Well, I would try . . .” He suddenly felt most awkward. It was not a pleasant—or a familiar—sensation. “Or I could send someone. But it’s important that you have the ability to evacuate if necessary.”

“So what you’re saying,” she said, “is that you are trusting me not to leave the cabin.”

He had not quite thought of it that way, but— “Yes,” he replied. “I suppose I am.”

“That is good to know.”

He stared at her. What the devil did that mean?

“Thank you for the puzzle,” she said, changing the topic with unsettling speed. “I’m not sure if I actually said as much. It really was most thoughtful of you.”

“It was nothing,” he said, and his head and shoulder did a little twitch. His cheeks felt warm too.

She smiled—a lovely, warm thing that thoroughly reached her eyes, and he started to think that their color was more moss than leaf, although it might just be the light coming through the windows . . .

“Didn’t you say you were needed?” she reminded him.

He blinked. “Yes, of course.” He gave his head a little shake. “I was just thinking for a moment.”

She smiled again, this time with a vague air of amusement. Or maybe impatience. She clearly wished to be rid of him.

“I’ll take my leave, then.” He made a quick bow with his head and moved toward the door.

“Oh, wait!” she called.

He turned around. But not eagerly. Not eagerly at all. “Yes?”

She motioned with her hands toward her breakfast. “Would you mind removing the tray? I’ll need more room for the puzzle, wouldn’t you think?”

“The tray,” he echoed dully. She wanted him to carry her tray. He was the captain of his own bloody ship.

“I would very much appreciate it.”

He took the tray. “Until this evening, Miss Bridgerton.”

Until this evening. Absolutely. He would not be going back to check on her before then. Certainly not.

Poppy was just about a quarter of the way through the puzzle when she heard a single sharp rap on the door, followed by the sound of the key turning in the lock.