Free His Spoilt Lady by Vanessa Brooks Page A

her company. Well, it was the least she could
do; after all, he was her husband. After Linnett had breakfasted,
she made her way to her own room to dress. She looked around her
frowning. Lottie had tided everything away, and her room looked
very bare.
    “Lottie,”
Linnett called. Lottie was in the little dressing room next door,
fetching Linnett’s warm travelling dress. “Yes miss?” She came into
the room carrying the heavy clothes.
    “There was no
need to clear my room; I won’t be staying in the Rose Room,”
Linnett said, and took the matching cape from the top of the pile
of clothes that Lottie held in her arms and laid it on the bed.
    A deep voice
called cheerily from the direction of the doorway, “What, not
dressed yet? Your father is out in the coach waiting for us both!
Incidentally, good morning!”
    Linnett stood
in her shift and looked sourly at her new husband. He leaned
against the doorway with an odious grin on his face. John was
dressed for travelling, in high leather boots of dark brown with
tight fawn britches; a greatcoat was slung over one arm. Linnett,
with outwardly cool demeanour, said, “Good morning to you, husband.
If you would be so kind as to leave us in peace, I will be ready
directly.”
    John raised an
eyebrow at her formality. “Very well, I will await you outside with
your father.”
    Hurriedly,
Lottie arranged Linnett’s hair and dressed her. Linnett thanked
her, kissed her briefly, and as she ran out of the room, called
over her shoulder, “I’ll go riding later, Lottie, so leave my
riding things out for me, would you?”
    Lottie’s mouth
dropped open, and she ran after her mistress, shouting, “Miss!
Miss! What’s that? What d’you mean miss? Miss!”
    What could Miss
Linnett mean? She wouldn’t be going riding; she was off to America.
After all, Lottie should know as she had supervised all Linnett’s
belongings being packed in the trunks and sent onto the port. No
doubt by now they were stowed aboard in their cabin. She tripped
over Linnett’s discarded nightgown, the one she had spent so many
nights sitting up and sewing. Lottie picked it up and began to
weep. She held the soft gown to her face and rubbed her cheek
against the smooth fabric.
    “Oh my dear, I
shall miss you so and no proper goodbye.” Poor Lottie sat down
abruptly and wept.
     
     
     

Chapter 6
    Climbing up the gangway onto The Tempest, Linnett
clutched the rope support and looked down at the huge drop to the
sea. The murky water of the harbour churned about between the
harbour wall and the ship’s side. The ship swayed backwards and
forwards, nearing the wall but never quite touching it. It creaked
and groaned, moaning to itself.
    Linnett
shuddered. It was as if the ship were a live creature. She had
never been to the port before; her father rightly supposed that it
was not the place to take a young girl of gentle upbringing. The
language and behaviour of the sailors were coarse and rough. Once
on board the ship, Linnett looked around her with fascinated
interest. There were men everywhere, scurrying around like ants,
and each seemed to know exactly what he was about. Men shimmied up
and down masts, others carried barrels aboard, and still others
wound huge ropes, as thick as a man’s wrist; they called, swore and
even sang to each other.
    There was a
sense of anticipatory excitement all around. Overhead, gulls
wheeled, dipping and diving, their screaming calls adding to the
noise and confusion. The captain was coming towards them and he
waved jauntily, his progress somewhat hampered by men stopping to
speak to him every few feet or so. Eventually, he reached them. He
was a short man, with a large girth, and he was in his fortieth
year. His face was clean-shaven, but he sported huge side whiskers,
which looked startling not so much for their size as for their
colour, a bright gingery red, as was the thick wiry hair on his
head.
    “My dear sirs,
miss, excuse me, I mean Mrs. Foster! Captain