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

Glower says.”
    “English?” Gwenyth looked at the vessel more disapprovingly. “Why can we not sail upon a Welsh ship, Meri?”
    “Because this is the ship that sails to Bristol,” Meriel said matter-of-factly before turning to her brother and adding in a sterner tone, “and you’d best not let Mr. Glendower hear you referring to him so disrespectfully, young man.” Giving him no opportunity to compound his error, she tucked the heavy leather reticule containing her precious documents and a small but serviceable pistol more firmly under her arm, tugged her dark gray woolen cloak more snugly over her green traveling dress, and shifted her attention to Lady Cadogan. “Are you warm enough, ma’am? ’Tis a dreadful, damp chill in the air.”
    “Oh, don’t trouble your head about me,” said that lady cheerfully. “I shall do tolerably well just knowing we are leaving the winds of Wales behind us, not to mention all the cold and fury of a Welsh winter, which no one thought to remind me about before I decided to spend an entire year with you.”
    “Well, you might have remembered from your own youth, after all,” Meriel said with a smile as they moved forward to follow the chaplain, Marwyn, and the stout young men who carried their gear up the gangplank.
    “Indeed, I suppose ’twas not so long ago as that, but one does tend to forget how isolated Plas Tallyn is. Why, I had not heard the half of the London news we gleaned in Barmouth. Their being on the coast makes a great difference, does it not?”
    Meriel agreed, looking over her shoulder to assure herself that Enid Broadman, who was Lady Cadogan’s dresser, and Gladys Peat, her own maidservant, were following close upon their heels. They were indeed among the group of persons just behind their mistresses; however, it had not the sight of the two women that stopped Meriel in her tracks but that of a tall, broad-shouldered man emerging from a carriage a short distance from the foot of the gangplank.
    “Gracious,” said Lady Cadogan, following her astonished gaze, “is that not Sir Antony Davies, whom we met Thursday evening?”
    “I wonder why he did not mention that he would be sailing with us,” Meriel said before an impatient sound from a man just behind them on the gangplank recalled her to her senses. Apologizing briefly, she took Lady Cadogan gently by the elbow and urged her forward, quickly forgetting Sir Antony in the need to see to their belongings.
    Mr. Glendower, having hurried on ahead, met them at the entrance to their tiny cabin, situated just below the afterdeck. His long, thin, rabbitlike face creased with a broad smile. “I trust,” he said, turning the smile directly upon Meriel, “that your ladyship will find the accommodations perfectly comfortable. Everything is neat as wax ma’am. Only look at how cunningly the young ladies’ cots are built right into the inside wall, with doors that shut them off from the rest of the world.”
    “Into the bulkhead,” corrected Lady Cadogan absently as she peered about the tiny cabin. “Ships’ walls are called bulkheads, Mr. Glendower. Surely you know that.” Ignoring his assurance that he did indeed know and had merely said “wall” in order that he would be understood by all his listeners, she gave a small sigh. “One always hopes one’s accommodations will be larger. Ships have so little space.”
    Meriel could only agree with her. Though Mr. Glendower had referred to the small built-in bunks as accommodations for Eliza and Gwenyth, she realized gratefully that there were three such cubbyholes, built one atop the other. For although the larger bed, framed, curtained, and attached to the outer bulkhead beneath the tiny porthole, had been advertised as a double bed, she could see that it was no such thing. At best it was a foot wider than the closetlike bunks. She could not for a moment imagine getting any sleep if she had to share that bed with Lady Cadogan.
    Mr. Glendower hovered