always thought you a man of good judgement and good character. Trust in your own instincts, rather than try to emulate the actions of another." The earl gave a gruff smile. "In all honesty, I think you will be a much more admirable earl than your father."
William bowed his head. "What the devil can I do? That is, if it is not too late to reach out to Alex."
Ivor finished his brandy and stared for some time into the empty glass. "At the moment. I am not sure there is a cursed thing any of us might do that would make a difference. We can only pray that in setting out to save young Nicholas, Alex might also be starting a new chapter in his own life. One that will lead to something more than drunkenness and despair."
Chapter 2
The wind was picking up. Off in the distance, one of the Royal Navy frigates accompanying the small convoy of merchantmen pitched in and out of view as the leaden waves grew ever larger. There was the clatter of feet on the deck as the watch was called out to take in another reef in the sails. Overhead, the sky was nearly as dark as the icy water, an ominous sign of the approaching storm.
Octavia clung to the railing, half hidden by the mizzen mast, hoping to go unnoticed by the grim lieutenant supervising the crew's efforts. Despite the steep roll of the deck and swirls of salt spray that threatened to soak her cloak, she was loath to go below. The rattle of the spars was infinitely more welcome than the rattle of Mrs. Phillips prosing on about her experiences in savage lands, and the buffeting gusts, though chill on her cheeks, felt invigorating after the stale air in her cabin.
Her hopes, however, were short-lived. A sailor in the rigging above her let slip one of the clew lines, drawing the attention of the officer of the watch. After giving the man a blistering set down, his eyes fell to Octavia. "You there," he snapped. "All passengers must go below. Can't you see a storm is brewing?"
Octavia bit off a tart reply. What a stupid question! Of course her eyes were no less keen than his. Why was it that men assumed a female's sensory capacities, as well as their mental acumen, were so inferior to theirs? She gave a sigh as she swept a windblown lock of hair away from her eyes. It should come as no surprise, she reminded herself, given that most of those of the opposite sex were so smugly sure of their own superiority in every regard—unwarranted in most cases, to be sure!
Seeing that the man was about to bark again, she gathered her flapping cloak close around her and retreated towards the mizzen hatchway. The ship gave a sudden lurch, causing her foot to slip on the steep wooden ladder. An instant later, another twist and roll nearly sent her head first into the murky darkness below. She tightened her grip and felt for the next rung.
It was clear the force of the bad weather was now full upon them. Octavia managed to make the rest of the descent without further mishap. Her fingers kept hold of the ladder as she steadied her footing and peered down the narrow passageway. It was almost pitch black and the violent motion of the ship made it even more difficult to make out much of anything. However, she was sure the way to her cabin lay ahead and to the right.
She ventured several steps forward, only to be tossed against one of the stout oak timbers. Repressing a most unladylike word, she rubbed her bruised shoulder and started off again, this time keeping her body pressed up against the rough wood. Her progress became steadier, and as she descended another set of narrow steps, she felt she was nearly there.
Suddenly, the ship yawed nearly on its side. Octavia was flung across the passageway, but instead of crashing into another beam, she found herself up against something equally as solid, but a bit more yielding.
"Well, well, what have we here?" came a slurred voice.
To her dismay, Octavia discovered that her nose—and a good deal of the rest of her anatomy—was buried in