She supposed she’d better get used to such inner conflict. She had a hunch it would be with her the rest of the voyage.

Chapter 8

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Poppy found a novel she hadn’t noticed on the shelf the night before and gave it a try, moving—as boredom dictated—from the bed to a chair, to a different chair, and then back to the bed. When the sky began to dim, she went to the window, but they must have been facing east, because the sky went from blue to dark blue to black without even a speck of orange or pink.

There might have been a moment of indigo in there somewhere, but that was probably just wishful thinking.

It stood to reason, though, that if she was facing east on the way to Portugal, she’d be facing west on the way back. She consoled herself with the knowledge that there would be sunsets galore as she voyaged home. She supposed she could rouse herself early to watch the sun rise, but she knew her habits well enough to know that was not going to happen.

Billy’s timid knock sounded at the door a bit after eight, and even though Poppy knew he had a key, she got up to greet him. It seemed only polite, as she assumed he was carrying a heavy tray.

“Good evening, miss,” he said when he saw her.

Poppy moved aside to let him pass. “Come in. Dinner smells delicious.”

“Chicken in sauce, miss. I had some earlier. ’Twas good, it was.”

“What kind of sauce?”

Billy set the tray on the table and frowned. “I don’t right know. It’s kind of a brown, I think.”

“Brown sauce,” she said with a friendly smile. “It is one of my favorites.”

Billy grinned back, and she suspected he’d be calling whatever this dish was Chicken in Brown Sauce for the rest of his life.

“Will the captain be dining here tonight?” she asked.

“I don’t know, miss. I brought enough food for two, but he’s very busy above deck.”

“Busy? I hope nothing is wrong.”

“Oh no,” he said reassuringly. “He’s always got a lot to do. We just thought you’d be getting hungry.”

“We?”

“Me an’ Brown an’ Green,” Billy said. He took an empty plate from the tray and began to set her a place. “We’ve been talking about you.”

“Do I want to know what you’ve been saying?”

“Well, I’ve had only nice things.”

Poppy winced. “Brown and Green and I did not get off to the best of beginnings.”

“Well, you can’t be blamed for being angry,” Billy said loyally.

“That’s very ki—”

“And they was just doing their jobs.”

Poppy decided not to push the issue. “So they were.”

“The captain said they’re allowed to come see you. If I’m busy, that is.” Billy gave her a sympathetic look. “He said no one else, though. But he said it in an awful strange way.”

“What do you mean?”

“He said—” Billy made a scrunched-up grimace. “I’m probably going t’get this wrong. He speaks right fancy sometimes.”

“What did he say , Billy?”

“He said . . .” Billy paused again, his heading bobbing up and down as he mouthed the words before actually saying them. “He said ’twould be his greatest pleasure if you did not have occasion t’meet any of the other men.”

Poppy clapped a hand over her mouth, but she couldn’t quite stifle her bubble of laughter.

“I think it might mean he fancies you,” Billy said.

“Oh no,” she said with great alacrity. “I assure you it does not.”

Billy shrugged. “He’s never talked about any other lady before.”

“Quite possibly because I’m the only one who has ever had cause to be aboard,” Poppy replied, with no great lack of irony.

“Well, that’s true,” Billy confirmed, “at least as far as I know.” He went back to setting her place, then did the same for the captain. “In case he comes for supper. That is t’say he will come and dine. He has to eat, and he always takes his meal in his cabin. It just might not be at the same time you do.” He stepped back, then motioned to the covered dish at the center of the table. “It’s one of his favorite meals. Chicken in brown sauce. He loves it.”

Poppy stifled a smile. “I’m sure it will be delicious.”

“I’ll come back for the tray at— Well, no I won’t,” Billy said with a frown. “I don’t know when I’ll come back for the tray, seeing as how I don’t know when the captain will be eating.” He thought for a moment. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure out something.”

“I have every faith in your powers of deduction,” Poppy said gamely.

“I don’t know what that means,” Billy said with great enthusiasm, “but I think it’s good.”

“It’s very good,” Poppy said with a laugh. “I promise.”

He gave her a friendly nod and let himself out. Poppy just smiled and shook her head. She could hardly believe he was the same boy who wouldn’t even look at her the day before. She considered it a personal victory that she’d got him to speak to her. A rather fortunate personal victory considering that Billy was now her only friend on the ship.

“Be glad you have a friend,” she admonished herself. This could be worse. That was what she had been telling herself all afternoon. Back in England, her entire life might already have fallen apart—she wouldn’t know for sure until she returned—but for now she was in good health, unmolested, and—she took the lid off the serving dish and took a whiff of her supper—being fed remarkably well.

“Chicken in brown sauce,” she murmured. It was as good a description as any. She put a piece on her plate, along with a serving of an unfamiliar rice dish, then set the lids back in place so that the food would remain warm for Captain James.

Not like her eggs. Or her tea.

That wasn’t his fault , she reminded herself. There was a preposterous number of other things that were his fault, but she could not blame him for her breakfast.

She ate in silence, staring out the window at the fathomless sea. There must have been a moon, because she could see its ethereal reflection on the waves, but it didn’t do much to illuminate the night. The sky was inky dark and endless, with stars peeking through like pinpricks. The heavens felt huge out on the water, so different from at home. Or maybe it wasn’t different at all, and it was just that right now she felt so very much more alone.

How different this voyage might have been under more auspicious circumstances. She tried to imagine taking to the sea with her family. It would never happen, of course; neither of her parents cared for travel. But Poppy imagined it all the same—standing on deck with her brothers, laughing as the wind and the waves set them off balance. Would any of them have grown seasick? Richard, most likely. There were any number of foods that did not agree with him. In their childhood, he’d thrown up more than the other four put together.

Poppy chuckled to herself. What a thing to think about. If she were home, she’d say as much to her mother, if only to hear her shriek. Anne Bridgerton did have a sense of humor, but it did not extend to bodily fluids. Poppy, on the other hand, had been far too influenced by her brothers to be so fussy.

Roger had been the worst. And of course, the best. He was her fiercest protector, but he’d had far too much mischief and humor to ever be stern. He was clever too, as clever as she was, but he was the oldest, and his extra years of experience and education made it impossible for the others to keep up. For example, he would never just leave a toad in his brother’s bed. That would have been far too pedestrian.

No, when Roger turned to amphibians, he made sure they fell from the sky. Or at least from the ceiling, and onto Richard’s head. Poppy still wasn’t sure how he’d managed that with such accuracy.

Then there was what he called his crown jewel. He spent six months secretly tutoring Poppy in false vocabulary, and she dutifully complied, writing such things in her primer as: