Free Amanda Scott by Sisters Traherne (Lady Meriel's Duty; Lord Lyford's Secret)

social activities than she is in the political scene.”
    “But surely she is concerned with her husband’s fate?”
    “I have no doubt of that, which is why I am persuaded he can be in little real danger. Still, I intend to see for myself how matters stand with them.”
    “You know,” Sir Antony said then in a more serious tone than she had yet heard from him, “those who know about such things are not altogether certain that this period of peace will last. If de Prévenu is no longer in favor with the First Consul, it might behoove your sister to think about leaving France while she still may.”
    Meriel frowned thoughtfully. “Until we reached Barmouth,” she said, “I knew little about the current political situation. Clearly, persons like Lord Uxbridge and others of his ilk believe this peace of ours is an uneasy one. Still, there were others present who insisted that it is to Bonaparte’s benefit as well as to England’s to let the peace continue, and Nest insists that the mood in Paris is one of gaiety and pleasure. Surely that would not be the case if a recurrence of war is in the offing.”
    “No doubt,” replied Sir Antony, pulling a gold watch from his waistcoat pocket. “I believe they will be serving dinner shortly, ma’am. Do you dine in the dining cabin?”
    “No,” she said, “for Gladys Peat will have it that it would not be at all the thing, even if she were to accompany me there, which she has no wish to do. My supper will be served on a tray in my cabin.”
    “In that event, perhaps I should escort you below.”
    She didn’t see him again until later that afternoon, but having spent two full hours in her cabin, she once again felt the need for fresh air, and despite the fact that the little ship had begun to pitch rather alarmingly in the meanwhile, she wrapped herself well in her long dark gray woolen cloak, arranged its fur-trimmed hood carefully over her curls, and with fur muff in hand, made her way topside once more. It had been her intention merely to seek out the ladies’ saloon, where she might find a book or a magazine to read. However, once she put her head above the deck, she discovered that the sky had darkened ominously and a fierce wind screamed through the rigging, cracking the sails like whips against their stout masts.
    The sight of churning black water below and rolling black clouds overhead was an awesome one, and the wind as well as the unpredictable motion of the ship made movement difficult. Meriel found it necessary to slip her muff onto her left arm in order that she might cling to the bulwark wherever she could find a handhold. Her skirts whipped about her legs, her hood flew back, and her hair was blown loose as she flung herself from bulwark to railing, gripping the brass as tightly as she was able and pressing her hips forward. Instead of fear, however, Meriel felt only exhilaration as she pitted her strength against that of the wind. Carefully, hand over hand, she made her way forward, feeling one moment the same euphoria she experienced whenever she approached the summit of Cader Idris, and the next of a sudden spine-chilling fear that she would be flung headfirst straight down into the roiling sea. By the time she had made her way far enough along the railing so that she could see the open ocean ahead, she was worn out and would have liked very much to be able to sit down upon the bench attached to the bulwark, but she knew that to do so would be extremely foolish. There were no handholds, and she would most likely slide straight off onto the forward decking.
    Behind her and overhead, the wind’s roar was punctuated by the bustling and shouting of sailors as they leapt to obey orders bellowed at them by the boatswain, but no one paid her the slightest heed, and she was able to enjoy her view undisturbed. The swells beneath the little ship had grown to look like mountains and no longer broke neatly beneath the prow. Instead, the ship crashed sickeningly