Return to the House of Sin. Anabelle BryantЧитать онлайн книгу.
scent carried on the breeze, subtle as of the moment, but unmistakably pungent and indicative of men who lived without a home, bound to wherever the sea took them, far removed from polite society.
Ferris noticed too. Crispin followed his gaze, as if the count only realized now to what he’d committed himself. All around them the industrious crew worked to prepare for the voyage. Sailors shimmied up the mainmast to tighten ropes and secure knots, others belayed nets to pins or hurried across the assorted decks to set all to rights before they underwent the sea. Crispin took it in with a satisfactory glance, the sun’s first light limning the bow to reveal the fine vessel in an outline of muted white. Sails were run up their masts to beckon everyone aboard despite the hour remained early, departure set for just after dawn.
‘No women. That’s a horrible truth.’ Ferris scanned the waist and upper decks, then lifted his gaze to the sky overhead as if wishing for an angel to fall from the darkness. ‘And the sky is the colour of sadness. Your miserable company will have to suffice.’
They shared a chuckle before they fell silent. Crispin kept his eyes on the ocean, turbulent in kind to his emotions of late, a reminder the three-week journey would be his last chance to sort through the problems in his life. It wasn’t the debt he’d left behind that troubled him. The gaming opportunities of Italy had assisted in his handsome recovery and skill, honing his ability to that of an elite sharper. With no more than a glance, he could repay the money owed to the Underworld three times over.
He pushed aside his turmoil and sought refuge in the conversation. ‘One minute I’m a friend you cannot live without and now I’m miserable company?’
A nearby crewman cranked rope into coils and readied the rigging. Light glinted off the bobbing waves in welcome. Something about the sunrise guaranteed forgiveness. The promise of a new beginning, perhaps. Whatever the reason, Crispin took strength from its glory as much as possible, although, this morning, strains of light struggled to penetrate the cloud cover. Dawn wasn’t nearly as spectacular in London. A message waited in that observation.
‘I’ve seen only one dowager on the gangway thus far, hunched over and bitter-faced. Indeed, I’ll have an empty bed but I’ll make up for my abstinence once we reach London. You know the finest ladies, I presume.’ Ferris practised optimism as much as possible.
‘I do.’ At one time, Crispin had been a welcomed guest in any societal drawing room. ‘Which is why I won’t introduce you. The English cherish their morals more seriously than your people. Spinsters, elders or the occasional married couple on their wedding trip are all we’re likely to encounter on the ship. No woman of good standing would travel unescorted. But…’ He paused as if delivering a notable bit of news. ‘You’ve a private passenger room. With your snoring, no man dead or alive could find sleep.’ Unfortunately, the haste with which they had booked passage had excluded the better quarters and, with limited cabins for purchase, both men would need to make do with less luxury than accustomed.
‘You wound me.’
‘I doubt it. Your conceit is impenetrable and has survived my sharpest jibes.’ Crispin offered his friend half a grin. ‘In regard to the lack of females, might you make your own pleasure for a change?’
‘What other choice do I have?’
The two men shared a private grin. Indeed, Ferris spoke correctly. Crispin had experienced his fill of distraction. The females of Venice had shown him sensual generosity, but it was nothing more than that. He wanted no part of love or affection, determined to return to London with his heart repaired and the wisdom to disallow any woman to find a way in ever again.
Amanda waited at the end of a near-vacant walkway, stalled before a forked entrance which led in opposite directions to the ships in preparation to depart. She hadn’t found her family and, recalling Father’s insistence they hurry, didn’t wish to commit an error with no time to waste. Still, there was no one to ask in the dusky start of morning. Everyone had seemingly boarded and both massive vessels appeared in a flurry of activity. In the distance, people waited to see the ships pull from the shoreline, but if she managed to hurry all the way back to where the strangers stood, she would have no hope of boarding the correct vessel. She frowned, all at once nervous. This wasn’t a time for indecisiveness or misstep.
The ship to her left already had its sails unfurled. Hadn’t Father mentioned they’d barely made it dockside in time? A raindrop struck her cheek and urged her feet forward. She’d never be returned to England if she didn’t get the journey underway. Without doubt, she’d find her father and sister onboard as soon as she gained a sightline to their level. From her position below, she could see little aside from the overwhelming height of the galleon.
Buoyed by these conclusions, Amanda climbed the gangway to the ship on the left, careful to skim the shadows created by the elongated bow. She advanced up the ramp until she stepped on deck, her eyes roving the passengers for any sign of Raelyn and Enid, her father or one of the hired footmen, though she’d barely registered their appearance. Everyone began to look similar and with the fast-paced action on deck her difficulties were multiplied. Father would never leave her behind, but a pulse of fear, stark and sharp, raced up her spine to remind, by her own distraction, she knew little of their plans and should have stayed closer to her family as they moved through the crowd.
All around her swarmed a hive of activity. Several crewmen collected rope to coil tight aside the railings. Barks of command and affirmation volleyed back and forth between the men as cohesively timed and succinct as the gears composing a clock’s inner works. A great noise from behind caught her attention and she spun, the very same gangway she’d accomplished not two exhales prior now disconnected from the dock, unhooked and shoved aside by the hulking strength of a dozen brawny men. She’d boarded without a moment to spare. Her father would be pleased with her sensible ingenuity. What a jolly story it would make this evening in the passenger dining room. She just needed to locate him and their rooms as soon as possible. It would set everyone’s mind at ease, no doubt.
Overhead, a flap of unfurling flaxed linen pulled her eyes skyward as several square sails billowed full of air, the call of a crewman in the mizzen-top castle so high above he appeared as minuscule as a bird against the clouds. His bark of command kicked her heart into a vibrant rhythm. She enjoyed the workings of ship travel and had read several books on the subject, but enough of her gape-mouthed interest. As the galleon pulled away from shore, her pulse began a heroic gallop. She must locate Father and their quarters onboard. A woman alone on a ship presented a terrifying reality. Indeed, what was she doing? Had her brain stopped working? She couldn’t remain frozen in place. Once she spoke to the captain or purser, he would direct her where passengers belonged and assist in finding her family.
Assured there was no reason to panic, she advanced towards the stairs leading below deck as a broad-shouldered crewman brushed by too close for comfort. His leering glance trailed behind him.
Swallowing the fast lump of emotion in her throat, she leaned against the side of a tall stack of bailers in an effort to make herself invisible in wait for reason to return, yet it seemed of no use. As the sun struggled to shine in the drab slate sky, her yellow day gown appeared bright as a candle’s flame in comparison to the weather-beaten wood surrounding her.
Not two breaths later, a lanky crewman who adjusted the rigging of the backstays to the mastheads eyed her with an incisive stare, his head tilted in question. With a stroke of serendipity, a hard jolt brought the man’s attention to his task and the galleon pulled out to sea with a rush of spray and bellow of throaty ayes from the working men. Several passengers crowded the railings to watch the great ship take to open water with lively celebration overriding the ship’s activity. Amanda could only watch and listen, paralysed with indecision as she gathered snippets of conversation from the crowd.
Homeward bound.
Italy was lovely.
Not long for England now.
The words reached Amanda’s ears with the subtlety of a slap to the cheek. England? Yes, she yearned to return to England, but today she was bound for France. With Father and