The Other Miss Bridgerton
“Indeed I did. Just after sunrise. It enabled me to conduct my business rather quickly.”
Poppy’s mind went to the locked top drawer. “And what business was that?”
“Come now, Miss Bridgerton, you know better than to ask questions I will not answer.”
“Perhaps I hope to catch you in a weak moment.”
“I believe I already caught you in a weak moment this morning.”
She blinked.
“Have you forgotten José so quickly? Ah, the inconstancy of women.”
Poppy rolled her eyes to show him what she thought of that .
He put his hand over his heart. “O, swear not by the moon, th’ inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable .”
Shakespeare? Really?
“Romeo and Juliet ,” he said, as if she wouldn’t have recognized it. “And not in the least bit misquoted.”
Oh, he had no idea who he was up against. She lifted her chin a notch. “Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever; One foot in sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant never .”
He acknowledged her parry with a nod, then said, “I never claimed men were any more constant. And I think you’re making much ado about nothing.”
Poppy was impressed despite herself.
“I know,” he said, correctly interpreting her expression. “I’m ridiculously good at this.”
She quirked a brow. “As am I.”
“I have no doubt.”
Their eyes remained locked in silent battle until the captain said, “I can’t think of another Shakespeare line about inconstancy, can you?”
“Not a one,” she admitted.
They both stood there, trying not to laugh. Finally, the captain gave in. “Oh, Miss Bridgerton”—he drew out the moment by stalking across the room and stopping in front of her with a cat-in-cream smile—“I think you will be very pleased today.”
Her suspicions went on every possible alert. “What do you mean?”
“The weather is especially fine.”
“Yes, I’d gathered as much.” She gave him a patently false smile. “Through the window.”
“But you can’t tell everything through the window. You can see the sun, I suppose, but you can’t feel breeze, you can’t be sure of the temperature.”
Poppy decided to humor him. “Is there a breeze today?”
“Indeed there is.”
“And the temperature?”
“As you can tell from José’s lack of attire, it’s quite pleasantly warm.”
Poppy made a growling sound. Really, he needed to let this go.
“Might I offer advice?” he murmured, leaning in just enough to make the air tingle between them.
“As long as you won’t be offended if I don’t take it.”
“Sheathe your sarcasm, if only for this afternoon. We are friends of a sort, aren’t we?”
It required a magnificent display of fortitude, but she managed to say, “Of a sort.”
“Well then, Miss Bridgerton, as your friend—of a sort—I was wondering if you might like to join me in Lisbon today.”
She froze. “What?”
He smiled. “Shall I repeat myself?”
“But you told me—”
“I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
Actually, she rather thought it did, but not enough to quibble when she was finally getting off the ship.
“I want to see everything,” she said as she sat down to pull on her boots.
“That is patently impossible.”
She glanced up, but only for a second. She wanted to get her boots laced as quickly as she could. “Everything that’s possible, then.”
“Everything that’s possible.” His mouth curved into a hint of a smile. “I promise.”
Chapter 15
“Don’t turn around,” Andrew whispered in Poppy’s ear, “but José is watching you.”
For this he was rewarded with an elbow in his ribs. Which prompted him to add, “He hasn’t put his shirt back on.”
“Pffft!” Poppy did a thing with her eyes that was more a flick than a roll. All in all, it was an impressive display of I hardly care , but he knew better.
“It does beg the question,” Andrew mused. “Why?”
He waited. It took her a moment but she took the bait.
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why hasn’t he put his shirt back on? It’s not that hot.”
He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard her growl. And not with appreciation.
“Do you know what I think?” he asked.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“I’m glad you asked,” he said brightly. Then he leaned toward her, his lips just a few inches from her ear. “I think he knows you’re watching him.”
She made an exasperated motion with her free hand, as if to point out that she was clearly focused on the road ahead. “I’m not watching him.”
“Well, you’re not now .”
“I wasn’t before.”
“Come now, Miss Bridgerton, you could hardly not look at a half-dressed man. Frankly, I’d think less of you if you didn’t.”
This time she did roll her eyes.
“You can’t really blame him,” he went on, steering her through the waterfront area toward a spot where hackney drivers liked to wait to take on customers. “It’s not often such a finely dressed lady disembarks a trading vessel.”
Poppy looked down at her dress with a grimace. “It’s hardly fine any longer.”
“You look lovely,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. She looked lovely, even if her dress no longer did. It had held up fairly well, all things considered, but it had not been made to be worn all day and all night for a week. The blue fabric was now spectacularly wrinkled, and, since Poppy never wore shoes in the cabin, a dull layer of dust ringed the hem. There was also an oily spot on the side of the skirt he thought might have once been butter, but if she hadn’t noticed it yet, he certainly wasn’t going to point it out.
“Is José really looking at me?” She was taking his don’t-look-now warning seriously; all of this was said out of the corner of her mouth. She didn’t even turn her head enough to look at Andrew.
So naturally he said, “Everyone is looking at you.”
She stumbled. “Are you serious?”
“As scurvy,” he said cheerfully.
This seemed to give her pause. “Did you really just say ‘serious as scurvy’?”
“There’s not a whole lot more serious on a ship than scurvy. Exhaustion, pain . . . and that’s just on the inside. Eventually the gums start receding, and then the teeth fall out.” He tilted his head toward her as if to confide. “That’s assuming they haven’t already done so. Unfortunately, seamen aren’t generally known for their dental hygiene.”
Poppy’s mouth whorled in thought. “Hmmm.”
A surprisingly mild response. He countered with, “Hmmm?”
Because he was witty and articulate that way.
But really, he’d spent a ridiculous amount of time dangling all measure of disgusting things (both literal and not) in front of the women of his family. Tales of bloody gums and rotten teeth usually merited more of a reaction.
“Have you had scurvy?” she asked.
He grinned, showing his teeth. He had them all, which was no mean feat. He was a sailor; he had frequented his fair share of dockside taverns. Couldn’t do that without getting punched in the face a few times.
Poppy, however, was unimpressed with his toothsome display. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t had it. I’m sure not everyone loses his teeth.”
“True,” he replied, “but mine is a rather fetching smile, don’t you think?” He grinned again, better to make the point.
“Captain James .”
“How beleaguered you sound,” he teased, “but to answer your question, no, I have not had scurvy. But it would be surprising if I had. I’ve never undertaken an exceptionally long voyage.”