I Kissed an Earl (PG4) by Long Julie Anne

Author:Long, Julie Anne [Long, Julie Anne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance, General, Historcal romance, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780062000187
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2010-06-29T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

V iolet was awakened at an ungodly hour by the next morning by vigorous knocking at her cabin door.

She rolled gracelessly out of her bunk, feeling as though she’d slept in a clothing press, worked her arms through her nightrobe, and staggered to the door, opening it just a crack.

“Good morning, Miss Redmond.” It was Mr. Greeber’s untenably sunny voice. “You’ve been given a job to do! You’re to be cook’s mate!”

He made it sound as if she were to be knighted.

Cook’s mate? The position lately belonging to Mr. Rathskill?

“I’m to be…I beg your pardon?” She rubbed at her eyes. She peered beyond him, hoping he’d brought coffee or tea. She sniffed hopefully.

“When Rathskill left we were without a cook’s mate, and well, mum, seeing as ’ow ye’re a woman—”

She was instantly awake. “For heaven’s sake, that doesn’t mean I know how to cook.”

“Well, the captain thought ye’d be perfect, mum.”

The captain thought! Her reward for coming to his defense last night was to be set to work?

She didn’t care who he was. She was a Redmond.

He read her expression. “Oh, scarce any cooking is involved,” he reassured her. “’Tis really more about preparation. And boiling. Though Hercules would prefer it fancier, like, but ’tis a ship, after all. Mostly mixing, boiling, shaking off the weevils and maggots, things o’ that nature. Determinin’ wot can be eaten and wot must be tossed o’er the side because the bugs

’ave got at ’em. Though we took on some fresh goods in London, so we mayn’t have trouble with weevils fer a time.”

“W-weevils?” She did not want to be the ship’s weevil shaker.

“And we’ve vegetables as the trip is short,” he said brightly. “We’ll need to peel ’em. The captain may even give word to slaughter a cow, as they drink so much water, you know. Fresh beef!” he celebrated happily.

Cows? That would explain the lowing she heard on board.

“B-but I—”

“And I’m to ask, do you sew?”

“Of course I can sew!” She didn’t know why she was defending this particular skill. She didn’t want to sew, either, necessarily. She pictured sitting amidst a heap of filthy, rent sailor trousers and shirts and undergarments.

Given a choice between weevils and trousers, she would likely choose the trousers, however. He brightened. “Aye, then, mayhap you can stitch sails, too. We all sew, Miss Redmond. Always need to see to those! They’re verra important, the sails.”

She was beginning to feel a little desperate.

“But I…generally only sew initials into handkerchiefs, flowers, things of that sort.”

“Well, I will ask the captain if he’ll allow you to sew a flower or two onto the sail, or mayhap his initials. So as you might enjoy yerself. I canna see ’ow ’ed mind. Flowers might be right nice on a sail,” he mused cheerily. “Loverly to ’ave a woman’s touch aboard.”

Violet stared helplessly at him.

He stared worshipfully back at her.

She batted her eyes in preparation for talking him out of all of this. He looked alarmed. Really, staring at her was all he had the courage for.

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