The Other Miss Bridgerton

Green sighed, closing his eyes in what could only be described as an expression of abject misery. “We have no choice,” he said, “We’ll have to take her.”

“What?” the other man asked.

“What? ” Poppy screeched.

“Good God,” Green grumbled, rubbing his ears. “Did that squall come from your mouth ?” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m too old for this.”

“We can’t take her!” the other man protested.

“Listen to him,” Poppy said. “He’s obviously very intelligent.”

Green’s friend stood up a little straighter and beamed. “The name’s Brown,” he said, nodding politely at her.

“Er, pleased to meet you,” Poppy said, wondering if she ought to extend her hand.

“Do you think I want to take her?” Green said. “Bad luck having a woman on a ship, and especially this one.”

Poppy’s lips parted at the insult. “Well,” she said, only to be cut off by Brown, who asked, “What’s wrong with this one? She said I was intelligent.”

“Which only goes to show that she ain’t. And besides, she talks.”

“So do you,” Poppy shot back.

“See?” Green said.

“She’s not so bad,” Brown said.

“You just said you didn’t want her on the boat!”

“Well, I don’t, but—”

“There is nothing worse than a talky female,” Green grumbled.

“There are many things that are worse,” Poppy said, “and you’re quite fortunate if you’ve never experienced them.”

Green looked at her for a long moment. Just looked at her. Then he groaned, “The captain’s gonna kill us.”

“Not if you don’t take me with you,” Poppy hastened to say. “He’ll never know.”

“He’ll know,” Green said ominously. “He always knows.”

Poppy chewed on her lower lip, assessing her options. She doubted she could outrun them, and Green was blocking her path to the entrance, in any event. She supposed she could cry and hope that her tears might appeal to the softer sides of their natures, but that presumed that they had softer sides.

She looked at Green and smiled hesitantly, testing the waters.

Green ignored her and turned to his friend. “What time—” He stopped. Brown was gone. “Brown!” he yelled. “Where the hell’d you go?”

Brown’s head popped up from behind a stack of trunks. “Just getting some rope.”

Rope? Poppy’s throat went dry.

“Good,” Green grunted.

“You do not want to tie me up,” Poppy said, her throat apparently still wet enough for words.

“No, that I don’t,” he said, “but I have to do it, anyway, so let’s make it easy for the both of us, eh?”

“Surely you don’t think I will allow you to take me without a struggle?”

“I’d been hoping.”

“Well, you can keep hoping, sir, because I—”

“Brown!” Green hollered.

With enough force that Poppy actually shut her mouth.

“Got the rope!” came the answer.

“Good. Get the other stuff as well.”

“What other stuff?” Brown asked.

“Yes,” Poppy said nervously. “What other stuff?”

“The other stuff,” Green said impatiently. “You know what I mean. And a cloth.”

“Oh, the other stuff,” Brown said. “Righto.”

“What other stuff?” Poppy demanded.

“You don’t want to know,” Green told her.

“I assure you I do,” Poppy said, just as she was beginning to think that maybe she didn’t.

“You said you were going to struggle,” he explained.

“Yes, but what does that have to do—”

“Remember when I said I was too old for this?”

She nodded.

“Well, ‘this’ includes a struggle.”

Brown reemerged, clutching a green bottle that looked vaguely medicinal. “Here y’go,” he said, handing it to Green.

“Not that I couldn’t manage you,” Green explained, popping open the cork. “But why? Why make it harder than I have to?”

Poppy had no answer. She stared at the bottle. “Are you going to make me drink that?” she whispered. It smelled foul.

Green shook his head. “You got a cloth?” he asked Brown.

“Sorry.”

Green let out another tired groan and eyed the linen fichu she’d used to fill in the bodice of her dress. “We’ll have to use your handkerchief,” he said to Poppy. “Hold still.”

“What are you doing?” she cried out, jerking backward as he yanked the fichu free.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and strangely enough, it sounded as if he meant it.

“Don’t do this,” Poppy gasped, scrambling as far away from him as she could.

But it wasn’t very far, given that her back was to the cave wall, and as she looked on in horror, he poured a liberal amount of the noxious liquid onto the whisper-thin linen of her fichu. It became quickly saturated, and several drops fell through, disappearing into the damp ground.

“You’re going to have to hold her,” Green said to Brown.

“No,” Poppy said, as Brown’s arms came around her. “No.”

“Sorry,” Brown said, and it sounded as if he meant it too.

Green scrunched the fichu into a ball and placed it over her mouth. Poppy gagged, gasping against the onslaught of foul fumes.

And then the world slipped away.

Chapter 2

Andrew Rokesby strode along the decks of the Infinity , giving the ship one last inspection before they set sail at precisely four that afternoon. Everything appeared to be in order, from bow to stern, and except for Brown and Green, every man was accounted for and well-prepared for the voyage that lay ahead of them.

“Pinsley!” Andrew called out, tilting his head up toward the young man tending to the rigging.

“Yes, sir!” Pinsley called down. “What is it, sir?”

“Have you seen Brown and Green? I sent them out to the cave earlier today for some supplies.”

“Supplies, sir?” Pinsley said with a cheeky grin. Everyone knew why Andrew had really sent out Brown and Green.

“One little tilt of the wheel, and you’ll be hanging by your fingertips,” Andrew warned.

“They’re below, sir,” Pinsley said with a grin. “Saw ’em head down a quarter hour ago.”

“Below?” Andrew echoed, shaking his head. Brown and Green had work to do; there was no reason they should be below.

Pinsley shrugged, or at least Andrew thought he did. It was difficult to tell with the sun in his eyes.

“They was carrying a sack,” Pinsley said.

“A sack?” Andrew echoed. He’d sent them for a crate of brandy. Every man had his indulgences, and his were women in port and French brandy at sea. He had one glass every night, following his supper. Kept life civilized, or at least as civilized as he wanted it.

“Looked real heavy-like,” Pinsley added.

“Brandy in a sack,” Andrew muttered. “Madre de Dios , it’ll be nothing but shards and fumes by now.” He glanced up at Pinsley, who was at work lashing the ropes, and then turned to the narrow staircase that led below.

It was his policy to have a brief word with each member of his crew, no matter how high or low, before the Infinity took to sea. It ensured that each knew his role in the mission at hand, and the men appreciated the show of respect. His crew was small but fiercely loyal. Each would have laid down his life for him, Andrew knew that. But that was because they knew their captain was prepared to do the same.

Andrew was unquestionably in command, and there wasn’t a man aboard who would dare counter one of his orders, but then again, there wasn’t a man aboard who would want to.

“Sir!”

Andrew looked behind him. It was Green, who’d obviously come up the other staircase.