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roguery his on him or
was merely deviling him with talk. Looking away, he drew a stern,
deep breath, then looking back at Morgan with resignation, swigged
of his ale.
    Morgan noted his brother’s concession,
knowing that soon enough Roman would devise some sport to even the
score. Theirs was a lifetime of trying to outdo one another with
pranks and he could not have said who had the lead.
    “If we are sailing with Captain Langham
today, we’d best notify him we’ll require our cabins.” Morgan’s
teasing expression turned serious. “It’s a long ride to the harbor.
I prefer to arrive in time to stow our gear on board and to find an
inn near the docks where we can dine before we sail.” He rubbed his
flat, hard belly and grinned. “I for one do not relish galley food
for the next few months. Nor the bleakness of an ocean voyage when
I am not in charge.”
    Roman threw his head back and laughed. “With
ale this early and a night such as ours, I would have thought your
appetite sated.”
    Chuckling again, he watched Morgan shake his
head no. Meaningless liaisons like the one last night, were
becoming unrequietingly boring to Roman. Unlike Morgan, he welcomed
the long voyage as a respite from months filled with too much
folly. Perhaps Langham would let him take some time at the
wheel.
    His brows drew together in contemplative
thought. A man ought to occupy his time with tasks that proved his
worth. Wilhelm had preached hard work to them since boyhood. The
lessons had sunk in; both had taken to hard work. Only to Wilhelm’s
dismay, they showed no signs of relenting from equally hard
play.
    Roman slowly stood and stretched his limbs.
He was over six feet tall, as was his brother, and hard muscled
from his days as a mate on Wilhelm’s ships. While he waited for
Morgan to finish his drink, he strolled nonchalantly around the
table to stand near the fireplace.
    “Aye. And Roman, a dual purpose.” Morgan
looked over his shoulder at his brother and continued jovially, “I
wanted to give you opportunity to find a gift for Martha. You
surely would not disappoint the lass by arriving empty-handed.” His
hearty laughter rocked the room and turned a number of heads their
way. “Perhaps a ring.” Morgan sloshed his cup and lifted it to his
mouth to empty the last of the brew.
    Roman stood back a pace, but his cheeks
burned with a flush of red. For a long moment he stared at Morgan’s
back and then a blacker mood took him. A wicked smile curled his
lips as he drew back his arm and slapped Morgan squarely between
the shoulders.
    “Let’s be off, man!”
    Morgan fell forward from the blow, choking
on a swallow of ale and splashing the rest across the table. “What
the devil, Roman! A word would have sufficed!” he snapped, and
angrily blotted his coat front with a napkin.
    Perhaps he had gone a bit far with his
mischief. But then with a sly grin replacing his scowl, he decided
the result had been worth it. Roman was glowering again. Still, it
might be wise if he did not turn his back on his brother again for
a while.
     
    ***
     
    Across London, dawn heralded a brief promise
of spring as soft pink rays filtered through the window to
surrender a rosy warmth to Silvia’s room. Sleepily rubbing her
eyes, she slipped silently from beneath the covers, but any vestige
of drowsiness left as her feet touched the cold floor.
    In the corner a sturdy old carpet bag bulged
with the belongings she had packed last evening. Carting a trunk to
the docks without alerting Uncle Hollister to her departure would
be impossible. But then she hardly had enough to fill a trunk and
Mr. Wickes had said her wool clothes would be too hot for the
climate on Schlange Island. He had assured her that once on the
estate, fabric would be available to sew a few dresses.
    Could it be true? She would leave without a
confrontation? An uncomfortable impulse made her press her ear to
the door. Guttural snores sounded through the house like the
grating croak of