Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3) by Constance O'Banyon
Authors: Constance O'Banyon
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, adventure, Romance, Historical, Adult, Action, Regency, Danger, 19th century, Egypt, ocean, father, sailing, sea voyage, DeWinter Family, Sheikhs, 1840's-50's, DESERT SONG, Lord DeWinter, Captors, Nursing Wounds, Desert Prison, Ship Passenger
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the only aristocrats that he respects. His Grace fought bravely under Wellington and was awarded the Order of the Garter, along with other honors. Surely with a man like that for a father, Lord Michael is a most worthy gentleman."
Mallory's eyes followed the man who walked leisurely up the gangplank. She noticed how everyone gathered around him as if they hoped to please him. A duke's son. Well, she was not impressed—bad manners were bad manners, no matter what the rank.
"I'll surely be introduced to him," Mrs. Wickett continued. "I can't wait to write Phoebe and tell her we sailed on the same ship with a member of the DeWinter family."
Mallory's lip curled with contempt. She doubted the man would give poor Mrs. Wickett a glance. Certainly he appeared to be more concerned with his own comforts and needs than with being courteous to others.
Mrs. Wickett smiled with delight. "Look, the other passengers are now going aboard. Come, m'lady, you are in for a great adventure after all."
Since the Iberia was a mail ship, it offered very little in the way of comfort to its passengers. Mallory's cabin was located under the quarterdeck and was cramped and cheerless. There was a bunk, a washstand, and her trunk, which had been placed at the foot of the bed, leaving scant room for her to move about. Mrs. Wickett's room was next to hers and similarly cramped.
Mrs. Wickett had informed Mallory that the captain's cabin was located in the aft of the ship along with the larger cabins that were reserved for important passengers. Of course, Lord Michael would occupy one of those.
Hoping to accustom herself to the swaying of the ship, Mallory braced her back against the wall while trying to remove the muddy smudges from her gown. She brushed the material with a stiff-bristled brush, then dabbed at it with a damp cloth, but she could not remove the stain.
She sat down on the lumpy bed and stared at her ruined gown, knowing it was destined for the rag heap. She folded it and put it at the bottom of her trunk. Perhaps some of the material could be used to trim another gown.
As night gathered, Mallory lay in her dark cabin feeling alone and friendless. She was going to a mother and father who wouldn't want her. She thought of the doll they had given her for her birthday. When Cousin Phoebe's letter arrived, they would be expecting a child.
Mrs. Wickett appeared at her door dressed for dinner, and looked disapprovingly at Mallory's robe. "My dear, you aren't ready. We've been invited to dine with the captain tonight. This is an honor."
"I'm just too weary, Mrs. Wickett, and want only to go to bed early."
"I'm sure Lord Michael won't be dining there, if that's what's worrying you. He'll probably have dinner in his cabin," Mrs. Wickett said.
"I haven't given that man a thought," Mallory said. "I must meet him soon enough, but I don't feel up to it tonight."
"Very well, m'lady, I'll have the steward bring you something light to eat."
After Mrs. Wickett had departed, Mallory lay back on the bed and stared at the swaying overhead lantern. She tried to visualize what her father and mother looked like, but they were only shadowy memories.
She felt as if her life were spinning out of control and she was unable to predict what would happen next. Her blue eyes hardened. It was Sir Gerald's fault that she had to leave England. She was determined to make herself as unattractive as possible. She had no desire to encounter another overzealous man like Sir Gerald.
Later, Mrs. Wickett knocked on the cabin door to relay the events that had taken place at dinner. She had endless praise for the captain's table.
"Although this is only a mail ship, and far from the luxury one would expect of a proper passenger ship, I found dinner a delight." She gushed about Lord Michael, who had indeed dined with them tonight. "He actually spoke to me," she said, her eyes shining. "He even asked if I found my quarters comfortable—can you imagine that?"
After Mrs.
Mallory's eyes followed the man who walked leisurely up the gangplank. She noticed how everyone gathered around him as if they hoped to please him. A duke's son. Well, she was not impressed—bad manners were bad manners, no matter what the rank.
"I'll surely be introduced to him," Mrs. Wickett continued. "I can't wait to write Phoebe and tell her we sailed on the same ship with a member of the DeWinter family."
Mallory's lip curled with contempt. She doubted the man would give poor Mrs. Wickett a glance. Certainly he appeared to be more concerned with his own comforts and needs than with being courteous to others.
Mrs. Wickett smiled with delight. "Look, the other passengers are now going aboard. Come, m'lady, you are in for a great adventure after all."
Since the Iberia was a mail ship, it offered very little in the way of comfort to its passengers. Mallory's cabin was located under the quarterdeck and was cramped and cheerless. There was a bunk, a washstand, and her trunk, which had been placed at the foot of the bed, leaving scant room for her to move about. Mrs. Wickett's room was next to hers and similarly cramped.
Mrs. Wickett had informed Mallory that the captain's cabin was located in the aft of the ship along with the larger cabins that were reserved for important passengers. Of course, Lord Michael would occupy one of those.
Hoping to accustom herself to the swaying of the ship, Mallory braced her back against the wall while trying to remove the muddy smudges from her gown. She brushed the material with a stiff-bristled brush, then dabbed at it with a damp cloth, but she could not remove the stain.
She sat down on the lumpy bed and stared at her ruined gown, knowing it was destined for the rag heap. She folded it and put it at the bottom of her trunk. Perhaps some of the material could be used to trim another gown.
As night gathered, Mallory lay in her dark cabin feeling alone and friendless. She was going to a mother and father who wouldn't want her. She thought of the doll they had given her for her birthday. When Cousin Phoebe's letter arrived, they would be expecting a child.
Mrs. Wickett appeared at her door dressed for dinner, and looked disapprovingly at Mallory's robe. "My dear, you aren't ready. We've been invited to dine with the captain tonight. This is an honor."
"I'm just too weary, Mrs. Wickett, and want only to go to bed early."
"I'm sure Lord Michael won't be dining there, if that's what's worrying you. He'll probably have dinner in his cabin," Mrs. Wickett said.
"I haven't given that man a thought," Mallory said. "I must meet him soon enough, but I don't feel up to it tonight."
"Very well, m'lady, I'll have the steward bring you something light to eat."
After Mrs. Wickett had departed, Mallory lay back on the bed and stared at the swaying overhead lantern. She tried to visualize what her father and mother looked like, but they were only shadowy memories.
She felt as if her life were spinning out of control and she was unable to predict what would happen next. Her blue eyes hardened. It was Sir Gerald's fault that she had to leave England. She was determined to make herself as unattractive as possible. She had no desire to encounter another overzealous man like Sir Gerald.
Later, Mrs. Wickett knocked on the cabin door to relay the events that had taken place at dinner. She had endless praise for the captain's table.
"Although this is only a mail ship, and far from the luxury one would expect of a proper passenger ship, I found dinner a delight." She gushed about Lord Michael, who had indeed dined with them tonight. "He actually spoke to me," she said, her eyes shining. "He even asked if I found my quarters comfortable—can you imagine that?"
After Mrs.
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