The Duke's Daughter -Wattys2014 Collector's Dream Award Winner-

Chapter Eighteen

Admiral Miser sat in his quarters contemplating the last inch of brandy in the bottle he had opened an hour ago. He should feel drunk by now, but instead his mind seemed clearer than ever. Trent. Trent. He should know that name but he could not place it.

He remembered having heard it before, but the memory of when, where, and from whom, would not come to him. He poured the remainder of the brandy into his glass and tossed it back.

As the brandy burned his throat it came to him. Trent was Lady Kent's betrothed. He was the one his lordship had warned him to watch for. Miser pondered over the irony of the situation. Wouldn't Trent have been a little more upset had his intended tumbled overboard? Or had she been pushed? How had Trent found her out in the middle of the Atlantic in the first place?

Miser moved to his liquor cabinet and found a fresh bottle. These questions needed pondering at length.

******

Derek made his way from his cabin to the deck. It was now time to begin Arianna's wake. As he stepped onto the deck from the hallway, he was instantly assaulted with a leech upon his arm.

"Good evening, captain. I'm sorry for your loss. You and the widow White had gotten quite close, hadn't you?" The elder Bridger girl smiled up at him. Her face was thickly covered in powder until her skin rivaled a ghost's. She wore rouge on her lips but it was smeared in the corners and below her nose.

"Aye, quite close. She was a lovely young woman one could respect. Her loss is one I might never recover from." Derek dropped the hint with a closed expression. He hoped it would be enough to dissuade her from her obvious intentions.

"Oh, but surely another lovely young woman will come your way and erase her memory." Her powder dusted eyelashes batted up at him and he knew she would persist.

"Nay, miss. That would not be possible. The Lady was not a woman to be forgotten."

She said something in reply, but he did not hear her. Arianna was on the other side of the deck, carrying dishes from the cabins to the kitchens. She had paused, mid stride and she was watching him. He could only imagine what she thought.

******

Arianna almost dropped the stack of plates she was carrying. She had not even been 'dead' a full twelve hours and he already had the elder Bridger girl on his arm. What a cad! The fact that she was not truly dead, and he knew it, was rather annoying.

Dropping her eyes from his, she made her way down to the kitchens and began to wash the plates. Mickey was supposed to be doing the dishes, but he had traded her his chore, for keeping her secret and securing her acceptance with the other boys. So far, none other than Mickey had even cared to note her presence, luckily, for if they had, she would be doing all sorts of odd jobs until they reached New York.

Perhaps it would be better, she mused, to be weighted down with work until they put into harbor in New York. Especially if Lord Trent was going to keep company with that mousy twit. Arianna clenched her teeth together as anger rose within her. The plate in her hands broke cleanly in two. Staring at the broken pieces in her hands she contemplated her next move.

What could she do?

******
Derek sat through the dinner hour with his passengers in almost a state of relief. Jolene Bridger was in her usual spot, three seats down from him, with her mother and father between them. But the hour had passed too quickly, she had attached herself to his side as soon as he had rounded the table. He had thought about dodging her, and when he had not, he thought of simply shaking her hand from his arm, but he could not bring his muscles to perform the slight.

So, as it was, Jolene preened on Derek's arm as he made his way to the stern deck. His first mate met them with a quizzical stare, one brow lifted, the other pulled down over his eye. Derek grimaced, rolling his own eyes, but Jolene was too busy admiring the handsome Spaniard to notice the men's exchange. Alejandro shook his head, turning back to the crewman he had been conversing with. Derek plucked a mug of rum from a passing cabin boy and turned to Jolene to offer her one.

Her pointed nose wrinkled in distaste as she shook her dirty blonde head, "I never drink anything stronger than wine, captain. Papa says strong drink puts a man in his grave early."

Derek found himself wishing it was Arianna next to him. He would convince Alejandro to play that old gypsy tune so that he could watch her abandon herself to the lute's song.

Arianna in abandon was not a thought he needed on his brain right now.

The irony of having another woman to deal with, was not wasted on him however. If anything, she just reminded him of his quest to find Bailey and avenge the lovely Serena from his past. He turned his back on the girl next to him and raised his mug to the crowd before him.

"Tonight we drink in memory of Lady Arianna Kent, or, as most of you knew her, the widow White. By whatever name one knew her, she was a lovely young woman full of life."

The crew lifted their mugs in salute before they stomped on the deck, spilled some rum, and then took a heavy drought. Cabin boys ran between the men replacing empty mugs with full ones. He saw her then, filling the mugs for the cabin boys to disperse among the crew and passengers.

She lifted a mug to him and then brought it to her lips. She did not stop drinking until the mug's bottom was pointed to the sky. Derek fought back the smile that threatened.

"Wherever she is, may she know that she will be missed." He hoped she would interpret his words correctly, but after the rum she had consumed, he doubted she would.

The crew repeated their routine and then began to talk amongst themselves. Arianna rose from her perch by the keg and picked up a tray. She loaded it with as many mugs as would fit and made her way to the stern deck.

The rum in her stomach made her steps unsteady and a smile crossed her face as a plan formed in her mind. Her steps quickened as she ascended the stairs.
"What do you think of children, my lord?" That mousy little witch asked, as she batted her eyes up at Derek. She had been doing that all evening and quite honestly, Arianna had had enough of it. Moving between the two she looked up at Derek.

"D'ya need 'nother mug, cap'n?" Arianna asked, remembering her accent at the last moment.

"Aye, thank you." Derek plucked a mug from Arianna's tray wondering what her game was.

As soon as he lifted the mug, the tray began to tip. Quite conveniently, the remaining mugs spilt down the front of Miss Bridger's dress, from her bosom to her hem.

The girl screamed. Derek fought to hold his laughter. Mrs. Bridger appeared and ushered her rum soaked hysterical daughter away. Derek finally let his expression show that he was amused once they were no longer in sight.

"Thank you." He said down into Arianna's smug face.