felt a rush of relief. He had asked, and had been turned down. His responsibility for Teresa was at an end. With a clear conscience he could leave her disturbing presence behind him and rediscover his usual composure.
He looked down at the chart, but what he saw was Teresa's face, full of hurt disappointment, bravely fighting back tears. "Her uncle, their uncle, is the Duke of Stafford," he heard himself say. "I believe his Grace's brother is a Lord of the Admiralty. Miss Danville and one of her brothers are travelling to London to stay with the duke."
"Danville?" said the captain absently. "That would be Lord Frederick Danville. D'ye think we could put in here, Graylin, at the mouth of the Rio Colorado?"
"I have no idea, captain. If I were you, I should sail right into Limón harbour and be damned to the Spanish. The local people are about to rise in open revolt against them, and the sum total of the garrison is two ragged customs officials. I'd wager they've not been paid in months." A plan began to form in Andrew's mind. "Put me ashore now, and I will arrange that by midday they shall be incapable of noticing your arrival. My word on it."
* * * *
A couple of hours later, Andrew crept up to Teresa's chamber door and scratched on it.
" ¿Quien es? " demanded a sleepy voice he recognised as Josefa's.
He had forgotten that the maid was sharing the room. He was annoyed, but on second thoughts it was most fortunate that Teresa had a chaperon, and the girl would not understand if they spoke English. In a whisper, he explained that he must speak to the señorita.
When he was admitted to the room a few minutes later, Gayo glared at him with silent suspicion. Teresa was sitting up in bed, wrapped in a mantilla, her dark eyes huge in the light of a single tallow candle. Her black hair hung in a glossy plait over her shoulder. Andrew found himself suppressing an alarming urge to loosen it, run his fingers through its silky length, take her face between his hands and press kisses on her lips.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice husky. "Has the ship come?"
"Yes. I apologise for visiting you at this ungodly hour, but I must know, do you have some sort of sleeping potion among your medicines?"
"Yes, of course." Teresa started to push back the bedcover, then changed her mind. "Josefa, mis hierbas, por favor . You cannot sleep, sir? When do we go aboard?"
Quickly he explained the situation as she sorted through her herbs. "You see," he finished, "I shall tell Captain Fitch it was your doing that the officials are incapacitated, and with luck his gratitude will be such that he will take you aboard after all."
"But what am I to do if he will not? I shall never have another chance to go to England."
"Never fear, I shall find a way to persuade him. If gratitude will not do it, then I shall have to convince him that your uncle in the Admiralty will be most displeased to learn of his discourtesy."
"How kind you are to do this for me." She looked up at him with a slight frown, trying to read his reasons, then handed him a small leather pouch. "Here, take this and put three pinches in each man's mug of beer. They should fall asleep almost at once and sleep for at least twelve hours. Have you told Oscar? I expect he will be able to arrange for supplies to be ready to load when the ship arrives."
"Good idea. I'll talk to him first thing in the morning."
"The herbs could not wait till morning?" Teresa teased.
Andrew felt his face redden and hoped it was invisible in the dim light. "If you had had nothing suitable, I should have needed time to make other plans," he said with dignity. "Now I can catch a few hours sleep before I tackle the enemy."
She reached out one slender arm towards him. "You will be careful?" she begged. "They may be pathetic, but they are armed and Spain does still have sympathisers."
"I shall take care," he promised, bowing over her hand and kissing it with more
He looked down at the chart, but what he saw was Teresa's face, full of hurt disappointment, bravely fighting back tears. "Her uncle, their uncle, is the Duke of Stafford," he heard himself say. "I believe his Grace's brother is a Lord of the Admiralty. Miss Danville and one of her brothers are travelling to London to stay with the duke."
"Danville?" said the captain absently. "That would be Lord Frederick Danville. D'ye think we could put in here, Graylin, at the mouth of the Rio Colorado?"
"I have no idea, captain. If I were you, I should sail right into Limón harbour and be damned to the Spanish. The local people are about to rise in open revolt against them, and the sum total of the garrison is two ragged customs officials. I'd wager they've not been paid in months." A plan began to form in Andrew's mind. "Put me ashore now, and I will arrange that by midday they shall be incapable of noticing your arrival. My word on it."
* * * *
A couple of hours later, Andrew crept up to Teresa's chamber door and scratched on it.
" ¿Quien es? " demanded a sleepy voice he recognised as Josefa's.
He had forgotten that the maid was sharing the room. He was annoyed, but on second thoughts it was most fortunate that Teresa had a chaperon, and the girl would not understand if they spoke English. In a whisper, he explained that he must speak to the señorita.
When he was admitted to the room a few minutes later, Gayo glared at him with silent suspicion. Teresa was sitting up in bed, wrapped in a mantilla, her dark eyes huge in the light of a single tallow candle. Her black hair hung in a glossy plait over her shoulder. Andrew found himself suppressing an alarming urge to loosen it, run his fingers through its silky length, take her face between his hands and press kisses on her lips.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice husky. "Has the ship come?"
"Yes. I apologise for visiting you at this ungodly hour, but I must know, do you have some sort of sleeping potion among your medicines?"
"Yes, of course." Teresa started to push back the bedcover, then changed her mind. "Josefa, mis hierbas, por favor . You cannot sleep, sir? When do we go aboard?"
Quickly he explained the situation as she sorted through her herbs. "You see," he finished, "I shall tell Captain Fitch it was your doing that the officials are incapacitated, and with luck his gratitude will be such that he will take you aboard after all."
"But what am I to do if he will not? I shall never have another chance to go to England."
"Never fear, I shall find a way to persuade him. If gratitude will not do it, then I shall have to convince him that your uncle in the Admiralty will be most displeased to learn of his discourtesy."
"How kind you are to do this for me." She looked up at him with a slight frown, trying to read his reasons, then handed him a small leather pouch. "Here, take this and put three pinches in each man's mug of beer. They should fall asleep almost at once and sleep for at least twelve hours. Have you told Oscar? I expect he will be able to arrange for supplies to be ready to load when the ship arrives."
"Good idea. I'll talk to him first thing in the morning."
"The herbs could not wait till morning?" Teresa teased.
Andrew felt his face redden and hoped it was invisible in the dim light. "If you had had nothing suitable, I should have needed time to make other plans," he said with dignity. "Now I can catch a few hours sleep before I tackle the enemy."
She reached out one slender arm towards him. "You will be careful?" she begged. "They may be pathetic, but they are armed and Spain does still have sympathisers."
"I shall take care," he promised, bowing over her hand and kissing it with more
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