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diplomatic skills to the surface. It would not do to alienate the crew. He already suspected he would have a difficult enough time with Lady Stanford. Nicholas bestowed what he thought was a pleasant enough smile on the ruddy sailor. “Good day. Magnificent ship.” He nodded his approval.
    “Aye, the
Lady B’s
as fine a craft as you’ll ever see.” The seaman’s pride in his vessel was obvious.
    “Interesting name,” Nicholas said thoughtfully, a vague familiarity nagging at the back of his mind. “Is she named for anyone in particular?”
    The mate’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he smirked in an oddly satisfied way. Nicholas glanced at Lady Stanford. Was that a glimmer of alarm that flashed through her eyes? No, surely not. Her unruffled gaze caught his and she smiled vacantly. He must have been mistaken. He seemed to be mistaken about Lady Stanford more often than not.
    The American crossed his arms, his gaze flickering over Nicholas in an assessing and damned impertinent manner. Nicholas struggled to keep his expression friendly and interested.
    “The ship’s named for someone near and dear to the captain’s heart,” the sailor said. “A wonderful woman she was, like a sister to him. Brave and loyal and true, with a spirit and fire you don’t see often in the fairer sex.” He sighed dramatically. “But she’s gone now. Cut down in the prime of life. It was a waste and a shame.”
    The story caught Nicholas’s curiosity in spite of himself. “How did she die?”
    “Oh no, sir.” The big man shook his head regretfully.
    “She didn’t die. Might have been better all around if she had. No, she was scarce more than a girl when the weight of the world settled on her shoulders. Poor lass couldn’t take it.” He paused to let the full impact of his words sink in and rolled his eyes heavenward. “She joined a convent, she did. Became a nun. Sister B’s what they call her now.”
    He shrugged in an exaggerated gesture of disbelief. “And the woman weren’t even Catholic.”
    A strangled gasp came from the direction of Lady Stanford, and Nicholas turned toward her. Her face flushed crimson and she struggled to catch her breath between fits of coughing. Nicholas lunged toward her and clasped her arms.
    “Lady Stanford, are you quite all right?” His anxious gaze searched her face. A few errant tears coursed down her cheeks.
    “I’m fine,” she choked. “Just very moved.”
    Nicholas stared sharply at her expression of complete innocence. If he didn’t know better, he would think the woman was on the verge of losing a battle with unbridled laughter. Was there something humorous about that story he hadn’t understood? It was a little odd, but he saw nothing of humor in it.
    Lady Stanford glanced pointedly at his hands, still gripping her arms. “Thank you for your concern, but I really am quite recovered.” Nicholas’s gaze followed hers, and reluctantly, he released her. “I should like to go to my cabin now, Simon, if I may?”
    “Of course, ma’am.” The sailor’s eyes twinkled at Lady Stanford, and Nicholas could have sworn a silent message passed between them.
    Lady Stanford nodded in Nicholas’s direction. “Lord Wyldewood, I have never taken well to sea travel, so I do not expect to see much of you on this voyage, at least for a while.”
    “Oh?” Nicholas quirked an eyebrow. “Somehow, that surprises me. I had the distinct impression from the manner in which you came on board that you are very much at home on a ship.”
    She laughed lightly. “Well, my lord, impressions can be deceiving. You should not place such stock in them.” She turned and took Simon’s arm, and the couple stepped quickly down the deck.
    “Perhaps you’re right,” he said to himself. “Impressions can be deceiving. But make no mistake, my lovely lady, I shall find out what you’re up to.” He stared after her thoughtfully. “And ... what you’re hiding.”

Chapter Five
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