Silver Sea Read Online Free PDF Page B

Papa, nothing more! I asked him myself, very politely, and he laughed at me! We quarreled, and he pursued me and mocked me, and then he nearly following me into the fanmaker's shop!"
    Nicholai turned concerned eyes on Nathan Raveneau. Certainly he was not a coachman, but—could he have misjudged the man?
    "Your daughter has a curious way of twisting the truth to suit her needs," Nathan said coolly. "As I saw it, her overpowering need to acquire this frivolous fan nearly caused an accident among the rest of us on Oxford Street! Her hack tried to cut me off, frightening my horses, and they reared back and nearly collided with another vehicle. When I dared question her driver, Miss Beauvisage proceeded to address me as if I were a chimneysweep who could barely manage the King's English! A moment later she jumped out into the traffic and bore down on my phaeton, yelling and pointing her parasol at me as if she might stab me!" He paused to give her a quelling glance. "To defend myself, I removed it from her grasp. She insulted me further, and I followed her to the shop to return her weapon."
    "I am speechless," Nicholai pronounced. "I can only wonder if either of you realize how inconsequential your altercation sounds? Why not forget about it, laugh, and start fresh?"
    The couple met this suggestion with dark stares.
    "Well, I don't really care whether you get along or not, because this arrangement is fixed. Adrienne, I trust that Mr. Essex will guard you with the same zeal he has devoted to your quarrel, and I can assure you that he comes highly recommended. For my part, I am ready to wash my hands of it all. I depart at dawn for home and the arms of my wife—and will leave the pair of you to your sulks and insults."
    Nathan Raveneau stole a glance at his headstrong young charge. She might make his blood boil, but at least she wasn't the odd bluestocking he'd expected. Harms Castle might not be a complete bore after all...
    * * *
    Nearly four miles of masted ships lined the Thames, mimicking a narrow forest from London Bridge to Deptford. Extensive docks had been built on the Isle of Dogs for the convenience of vessels trading in the West Indies, and there rested the splendid Golden Eagle, her sails furled in the late-afternoon sunlight.
    Captain Nathan Raveneau stood on the quarterdeck. His eyes took in every detail of the packet he'd acquired only two years before. The clean-lined ship boasted an exceptionally fine, well-trained crew, and it pained him to consider the prospect of being away for four long months.
    Had he been drank to agree to such madness?
    Zachary Minter, whose Uncle Halsey had been Andre Raveneau's trusted right hand on board the Black Eagle during the Revolutionary War, approached his old friend.
    Zachary and Nathan had shared childhoods, amusing themselves on board ship during pleasure voyages to England and France, and their friendship was more powerful than the boundary of a captain's authority over his first mate.
    "I still can't believe you're going to do this thing." Minter drew himself up to his full five-and-a-half feet of skinny strength and shook his head, his red hair agleam. "Can't you just explain that you were in your cups, and—"
    "I've already considered doing that, or worse, but the devil of it is that I want Beauvisage's land in Barbados. It'll all be worth it if we can have access to Crowe's Nest." His face wore a familiar expression of impenetrable determination. "I can trust you to see to the ship, can't I, Zach?"
    "I never thought I'd live to see the day that you would put any other consideration before the Golden Eagle."
    "You tread on thin ice, old friend," Nathan murmured. "I ask you to do my bidding for a mere four months. We'll sail to Barbados when August arrives."
    "Your crew wants to sail now."
    "And they must wait."
    Minter's hair seemed to smolder in the setting sun. "While their heroic captain plays nursemaid to a spoiled chit in the middle of—"
    "Be silent," Nathan