well able to resist it. He’d come across enough of them in the past and simply diverted any physical needs to the mistress of the moment. It was just that he had never spent so much time with one of the innocents before.
‘Thank you, yes.’ Tess was tight-lipped, her knuckles showing white on the handle of the wicker basket. They had eaten in their own rooms that morning and this was the first good look that he’d had of her in broad daylight.
‘Nervous?’ Alex ventured. A sharp shake of the head. ‘Do you get seasick?’ Oh, well done, Tempest, now she’s gone green. If not green, then certainly an unhealthy shade of mushroom.
‘I was when we came over to the Continent, but that was years ago. I am sure I will be fine. It is simply a matter of willpower, is it not?’
Not in Alex’s experience, not after seeing any number of strong-willed friends casting up their accounts over a ship’s rail. ‘Not so much strength of will, more a question of tactics,’ he offered, taking her elbow to guide her up the steep planks. ‘We stay on deck as much as possible, eat dry bread, drink plenty of mild ale.
‘And don’t try to read,’ he added. Even with his own cast-iron stomach the recollection of trying to study the Racing Chronicle in a crowded, overheated cabin brought back unpleasant memories. Grant’s appropriately named filly Stormy Waters—by Millpond out of Gale Force—had romped home by a head without any of Alex’s guineas on it that week at Newmarket.
Most of the passengers were making for the companionway down to the first-and second-class saloons. Alex steered Tess to a slatted bench under the mainmast and settled her on it with the cat basket, her portmanteau and his boat cloak. ‘I’ll go and see to my luggage, you set the kitten on anyone who tries to take my seat.’
At least that produced a smile, he thought, intercepting an icy glare from a beak-nosed matron as he made his way to the rail to watch his luggage being swung on board. Obviously she didn’t like the look of his face. He shrugged mentally. He hadn’t liked hers much, either.
At first it was easy to keep Tess’s mind off her stomach. The harbour was full of things to look at, the kitten needed tending to and, even when they cast off, the view was entertaining enough, the water sufficiently sheltered. Alex was rewarded with smiles and the colour in her cheeks and found himself experiencing a warm glow of satisfaction.
The chit would have him as sentimental as she was, he thought with an inward grimace, but if thinking avuncular thoughts was sufficient to stop him recalling that she was a grown woman only a few years younger than he was, then so be it. Tess Ellery was an innocent and he was not, which left him back exactly where he started—as an escort to a respectable lady.
She had fallen silent while he brooded. Alex glanced sideways and saw that the greenish tinge was back, the roses had gone and, from the set of her mouth, the smiles with them. ‘It is quite rough, isn’t it?’ Tess ventured.
Not as rough as it is going to get was the honest answer. ‘A little lively, yes,’ Alex agreed. ‘Tell me about your ideal employment. A cosy old lady or a pair of charming children?’ Some must be charming, not that he had ever encountered any for any length of time, other than his own younger siblings. He and Matthew had scrapped and bickered, and his sisters had been, by definition, girls, which meant they were as irritating and mystifying to a youth as females could be. He supposed he’d felt affection for them, he just didn’t feel he knew them.
‘I do not mind.’ Tess showed some signs of animation. ‘Just so long as it is a family.’
‘Otherwise you will miss the convent life too much?’ he suggested as he shook out his boat cloak and put it around her shoulders. Spray was beginning to blow back from the prow. It might be unusual to find himself acting responsibly, but at least he wasn’t being treated to the kind of spoiled tantrums his most recent mistress would have thrown under these circumstances. Which, come to think of it, was why she was no longer in his keeping.
‘Thank you.’ Tess snuggled into the heavy wool with a wriggle that reminded him of that dratted kitten making itself comfortable. ‘Miss the convent? Oh, no. It is worse being lonely in a crowd than by yourself, don’t you think?’
Alex tried to remember when, if, he had ever felt lonely. Alone, yes, but he was comfortable in his own company and always had been. When he wanted human contact he had a wide social circle; when he needed close friends he had them, the other three members of what the dean of his Oxford college had referred to bitterly as the Four Disgraces.
‘I suppose so,’ he agreed. ‘But in the convent, all those Sisters must have been like sisters, as it were.’
Tess gave a little shrug as though the cloak had developed uncomfortable creases. ‘Friendships are not encouraged. The sisters treat everyone the same and the boarders go home for holidays and they make friends within their own group. They all come from very good families.’
‘And you do not?’
‘I am an...orphan with no connections. But everyone was very kind,’ she added brightly.
Alex was conscious of a sudden and startling urge to box the ears of the unknown Mother Superior. He had no trouble translating very kind into impersonal, remote, efficient, cool. Tess had been fed, clothed, educated, kept healthy and respectable. Her body and her morals had been cared for; her heart and her happiness, it seemed, could look after themselves if she did not choose to become a nun. Although that was not so very different from a child’s upbringing in any aristocratic family. He was sure his mother had loved him, but it had never occurred to her to play with him, let alone talk to him outside the hour before she changed for dinner.
‘I’m sure they were kind.’ And now she was heading for a life of respectable drudgery, neither a member of a family nor an upper servant. But she seemed to realise already what her position was, even if she had rose-coloured ideas about the joys of family life. It would be no kindness to tell her that and, he supposed, a miracle might happen and she would find herself in the household of her dreams. He looked at the cloudy sky, then fished out his watch. ‘Have some bread and ale, best to eat a little, often.’
‘Thank you. In a minute.’ Tess got up and folded his cloak one-handed, clutching at the mast with the other. ‘I need...I mean, I assume that the...’
‘Ladies’ retiring room?’ Alex suggested. ‘Yes, that will be down below.’ He stood and gave her his arm as far as the entrance to the companionway. ‘Can you manage the stairs with your ankle? Sure? Hold on tight as you go.’
* * *
The smell hit Tess halfway down the steps. Hot, crowded humanity, food, alcohol, an unpleasantness that she guessed was the ship’s bilges and a clear intimation that several people had already been unwell.
Only urgent personal need made her fight her way through the crowded first-class cabin and whisper in the ear of an amiable-looking lady.
‘Over there, my dear. Wait a moment.’ She dug in her reticule and handed a small object to Tess. ‘Take my smelling salts.’
Five minutes later Tess hobbled back, returning the bottle with sincere thanks and a mental resolution to hang on, however long the rest of the voyage proved to be.
She picked her way back to the stairs and encountered a frigid stare from a middle-aged matron in a large bonnet. She looked vaguely familiar. She probably thinks I am an intruder from second class, Tess thought, avoiding her eyes. She
