26. Sailing to Sicily

CHAPTER 26

SAILING TO SICILY

L ater that week

Despite a day of rough seas and gray skies, the boys and Barbara managed to avoid feeling seasick. Meanwhile, Will had enjoyed the challenge of navigating The Fairweather through the Channel and the Strait of Gibraltar while Captain St. John played cards with the three youngest cousins.

Left to their own devices, Barbara spent time reading a novel and doing needlework while Donald studied his notes and talked with his father while he manned the wheel.

“Will she really have to mourn the marchese for an entire year?” Donald asked, his gaze directed through the captain’s spy glass. He was studying the skyline of Tangier, his memories of the port city mixed. Although he had acquired silk for his mother in exchange for delivering bolts of fabric to Lady Morganfield, it was also where he had learned from Captain St. John that he might be a father.

Besides his having to give up a girl for whom he had grown to love, he realized how badly used he had been by her father.

“Depends,” Will replied, his attention following Donald’s. He took the spy glass from his son and surveyed the horizon. Although a number of ships were traveling through the strait, none seemed as if they might host pirates.

“On what?”

Will handed the tube back to Donald. “Societal expectations. Whether or not she felt affection for him.” He arched a brow.

“She grew to love him,” Donald murmured. “He was her natural father,” he added.

“Then… she’ll wear widow weeds for at least six months and then go into half-mourning. That is, if Sicilians are anything like the English in that regard.”

A groan sounded from Donald, which had Will chuckling softly. “By the time you see her, more than a month will have passed.” He angled his head to one side. “You really believe you still love her? You still wish to marry her?”

His son nodded. “Of course I do. I have since…” His face reddened, which had Will arching his brow again.

“She is no doubt Catholic,” Will said, almost making it a question.

Donald nodded. “I know. We can marry in a civil service,” he replied. “It need not be an issue.”

Will winced, obviously not convinced. “Was she your first?” he asked in a voice barely loud enough to be heard above the sound of the ship slicing through the water.

“First and only,” Donald replied.

The words confirmed what Will had suspected ever since Donald had returned from his Grand Tour. “Her son already has a name. A title. Property,” he gently warned.

“I know. But I can still be a father to Antony. For the rest of my life.”

Will stared at his oldest son for a moment before he finally gave him a curt nod. “From what you’ve told me, and from what your mother seems to have discovered, it would seem you have nothing to be concerned about when it comes to the marchesa. She obviously still holds you in high regard.”

Donald nodded. “We made a pact, Father. I promised I would wait for her for ten years.”

“You’re not getting any younger.”

Grimacing, Donald agreed. “Hopefully we can give Antony some brothers and sisters.”

It was Will’s turn to grimace, and his son noticed. “What is it?”

Will glanced around, as if to confirm they were still alone on deck. “I always wanted to give your mother a girl, but when David was born…” He allowed the comment to trail off.

His son’s brows furrowed. “You mean she can’t? Have another baby, I mean?” Donald asked, obviously surprised.

Shaking his head, Will said, “I promised her if we had the opportunity to take in an orphan—from the village or Gisborn’s lands—we would do so, but there haven’t been any,” he explained. “And despite her warnings to Hannah that she would steal Grace from her…” He shrugged as he aimed a teasing grin in his son’s direction.

“I can’t imagine Grace would be the daughter Mother would want,” Donald commented. “She is such a hoyden.”

Will guffawed. “Much to my sister’s dismay,” he agreed. After a moment, he sighed. “She’ll grow out of it. You watch. When she’s eighteen or so and has her first Season in London, her days of being a tomboy will be well and far behind her.”

“From your lips to God’s ears,” a feminine voice said from behind him.

Will whirled around to discover Barbara approaching from the companionway. A parasol hovered over her head, and one gloved hand was pressed to her midriff. “Sweeting, are you all right?” Will asked in concern.

“I think the seas have finally decided to have their way with me,” she said, screwing her face into a wince.

“There’s no shame in seasickness,” Will said, motioning for Donald to take the wheel. He escorted Barbara to the deck railing.

“I feel much better now that I’m up here,” she claimed. “I think I just needed some fresh air,” she added, her gaze on the horizon. Her eyes widened. “Are there always so many ships headed in and out of the Mediterranean?”

“Uh… we’re going through the Strait of Gibraltar,” he replied. “It’s only about eight miles wide, so it’s a bit of a bottleneck for ships. Once we’re through, the other vessels will spread out a bit,” he explained.

“What’s that odd noise?”

Will furrowed his brows. “Noise?”

“The... the chattering? It sounds as if… as if we’re being scolded.”

Will chuckled. “Ah, the monkeys,” he stated. “I wasn’t even aware of them until you mentioned it.”

She gave him a worried glance. “How you didn’t hear them makes we wonder if you’re losing your hearing.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’m listening for other sounds,” he countered. “Like the sails flapping or the hull scraping on something.” He escorted her closer to the wheel so he could take over from Donald.

“I think you’ve been at the wheel more than our captain,” she accused.

“You say that as if you think I mind,” he countered.

Her eyes narrowed. “You love it, don’t you? Steering a ship?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t realize how much I missed it until yesterday,” he admitted. “And I’m a bit surprised at how quickly it’s all come back. You needn’t worry about me putting in for my own ship, though,” he assured her. Two decades on land —overseeing hundreds of acres of farmland and spending time with tenant farmers—had changed him. At some point he would inherit the Devonville marquessate, and although there would be less farmland to manage, there would be mines and three villages to oversee. He was secretly glad his illegitimate brother, Stephen, had taken to the task when their father had offered him the responsibility. When William Slater, Marquess of Devonville, did finally die, Will hoped Stephen would continue what he was doing.

Her gaze on the horizon to the south, Barbara sighed. “I remember hearing tales of this place when I was a girl. My uncle used to speak of Gibraltar and the monkeys. Of Tangier and pirates. Of the souks in Rabat and Marrakech and Fez, although he never said how he ended up so far inland from the ocean,” she said.

Will knew immediately which uncle she spoke about. As the second son of an earl, Matthew Higgins had served time in the British Navy long before Will attended the naval academy. “Did you ever wish to go to those places?” he asked. Until she had learned about Antony, she had never seemed anxious to travel.

She grinned. “Truth be told, I think I preferred to hear about them, because I could not believe they would be as exotic as he made them out to be.”

“Ah, you thought you would be disappointed should you ever see them for yourself?”

“Something like that,” she admitted.

“What about Rome? All the other places we’re planning to go?” he asked, his attention going to the top of the companionway. The captain, whose attention was directed toward Tangier, made his way to him.

“Something wrong?” Will asked.

St. John paused to kiss the back of Barbara’s hand as he bowed before her. “Your younger nephew has managed to lighten my purse far too much,” he complained, taking the wheel from Donald. “I’m quite sure he wasn’t cheating.”

“That’s because he knows better,” Barbara said. She tugged on Will’s sleeve. “I do believe the captain wishes to take back control of his ship,” she added, arching a brow.

St. John chuckled. “Should you wish for a change from gentleman farmer to sailor, I’m sure Nattersley could see his way to hiring you on as part of the crew of one of his ships,” he teased.

“Don’t tempt me,” Will said, chuckling.

“Any trouble?”

Will shook his head. “I had my suspicions about that frigate,” he said, pointing to a ship going in the opposite direction.

“She’s harmless,” St. John commented. “I am glad my route doesn’t go to Greece or beyond, though.”

“Oh?” About to head to the railing with Barbara on his arm, Will paused.

“The Turks are at it again with Egypt,” the captain said. “Trying to get it back. I’ve heard pirates are taking advantage in the Aegean.”

Will considered their plans for future travel beyond the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. “Good to know,” he said.

When they reached the railing, Barbara glanced up to regard her husband with worry. “What are you thinking?”

He shrugged. “That I am glad we plan to visit Catania first,” he replied. “We can make plans for Greece as we learn more. I expect we’ll be welcome there, though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“We helped them win their war for independence from the Turks,” he explained.

She nodded her understanding. “Are you thinking of returning to this life?” she asked, waving a gloved hand to indicate the ship.

“What?” he asked in surprise. When he saw her furrowed brows and look of worry, he shook his head. “No, my sweet. I will admit, I enjoy a turn at the wheel now and again, but… I shan’t be captaining a ship again in this life.”

Obviously relieved to hear it, Barbara stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

He grinned. “So I take it you’re not interested in being my first mate?” he teased.

“I thought I already was,” she replied, arching a brow.

His responding guffaw could be heard at the other end of the ship.

I n front of the wheelhouse for the entirety of Donald’s conversation with his father, Randy crossed his arms and shook his head. He might not have been able to hear everything that was said, but he now had a better understanding of his oldest cousin. Of why Donald eschewed courting. Why he didn’t show any interest in the young ladies they had met at the ball they had attended prior to leaving London.

He thought of Donald’s promise of ten years made to a woman he had probably only known for a few weeks.

Ten years?

How could anyone make such a vow at the age Donald had been back then? Back when had first visited Catania?

Could I? he wondered, his gaze on the cerulean blue waters straight ahead.

Would he do such a thing as promise a young woman he would wait for her?

Never in his life had he felt affection for a young lady, so he found he couldn’t answer the question for himself.

“I hope she’s worth it,” he murmured, finally pushing away from the wooden structure to make his way to the companionway.

A game of cards with his brother seemed the best way to put thoughts of his cousin out of his mind.