I Kissed an Earl: Pennyroyal Green Series by Julie Anne Long

tried to sound menacing, but it emerged like something from a bad pantomime.
    “Honestly, Mr. Rathskill,” she admonished, embarrassed for him.
    “Ye’re an ’ard sort, ain’t ye?” He sounded wounded.
    “No!” Absurdly, this hurt Violet’s feelings.
    “You are,” he insisted. “One of them Amazons, like. Verra powerful.” He said this with startling and unexpected relish.
    “Perhaps you mean a siren?” she suggested desperately.
    “Dinna ken what a siren may be. Amazons are them women in the jungle who conquer men, like.” He looked hopeful. “The captain, ’e’s been everywhere, seen every kind of woman, and
    ’twould swear ’es seen an Amazon or two, and I reckon ye’re just like one of ’em.”
    The captain had seen all manner of women, had he? Somehow she didn’t doubt it for an instant, thinking of the earl’s near indifference to her. It still galled.
    “Sirens lure sailors to their deaths on rocks by distracting them with their beauty and sweet songs. It’s a myth.” She was still hoping, absurdly, he’d choose this description instead.
    “Oh, now. I may not be pleased wi’ me captain, but dinna want to dash ’im to ’is death on rocks, necessarily. The Fortuna, she’s a bonnie vessel.”
    “It’s a myth,” Violet repeated desperately. “A metaph—never mind.”
    They’d reached a stalemate.
    “Ye’re verra pretty, ’owever,” he humored.
    “Thank you.”
    “Mayhap ye’d care to pose as me wife in the pub as well as gi’ me the ten pounds?” His mind was working out ways she could be of use.
    “We haven’t time.” The strategic use of “we” turned him into a co-conspirator. “And I said five pounds. My offer stands at five pounds, and I will give you one minute to decide.”
    She was her father’s daughter in her ability to drive a bargain.
    “Miss,” he said desperately, “I’m not ’eartless, ye sees. ’Tis just that I sleeps in an ’ammock wi’ four crewmates. And Greeber, ’e shouts in ’is sleep, and Lumley, ’e farts summat terrible—”
    “Perhaps you’ve a spare cabin,” she interrupted desperately. “One with a lock on the door. Did you not leave a diplomat here in London, fresh from a trip to Spain? Surely he didn’t sleep in the hammocks with the men.”
    He paused. “Aye, we’ve a cabin for guests of rank. The Distinguished Guest Cabin. And we carry none aboard this week. ’Tis empty now.”
    “I’ll take that cabin. Take me there. Five pounds. One minute to decide.”
    The little man was silent, craning his head toward the city proper, perhaps imagining his life away from The Fortuna and the terribly unjust Captain Flint, his lips worrying against each other in thought.
    “Which one is it ye’re set yer cap fer, Lavay or the captain?”
    She was startled. “Neither,” she said vehemently.
    He smiled, and when he did only a few teeth winked on his mouth, like scattered stars in a tiny black universe. He studied her a moment longer, and then shook his head peacefully.
    “I dinna believe ye. But in speakin wi’ ye, I think ye’ll be the best revenge ever I could ere take upon the captain. And I’ll take ye aboard and make meself scarce in the city. I’ll be gone by daybreak, and mark me words, as ’e’ll as soon feed me to the sharks as forgive me.”
    As much as she disliked this logic, Violet was certain he was correct.
    “I’ll deal with the captain,” she said confidently. She was certain she could…eventually. Every man could be managed, even baffling ones like the earl.
    She looked behind her at the hackney. The driver hoisted his flask in a mock toast to her, and took a long drink. All the time in the world to wait for his extra pound. If this carried on for one minute longer her nerve would abandon her.
    “You’ve to the count of ten to decide, Mr. Rathskill. My trunk is on the ground near the hack. One…two…three…”
    And then, in a motion she was certain she would remember her entire life, because