The Hero's Curse (The Wormwood Saga) by DAVID DONACHIE

Author:DAVID DONACHIE [DONACHIE, DAVID]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Two Fingers Books
Published: 2020-01-22T05:00:00+00:00

6.

As a day, it had been one of ups and downs: Charles had achieved a success in the morning and suffered a reverse in the evening: which way would it go now, given life seemed full of surprises? He was saved from more of these by the departure of Kate and her father, obliged, of course, to see them to their carriage, left with an invitation to visit them in London, ‘Should his duty permit him to do so.’

As he entered his room, he found Kissock bent over, rummaging through his sea chest, no doubt looking for something to steal. Charles’s boot caught him right in the middle of his backside, propelling him forward, then grabbed the lid of the chest and slammed it painfully down on Kissock’s back.

He wasn’t concerned about the searching of his possessions, all servants did that, but Kissock had landed him in a mess with his prattling on about keelhauling. Thanks to this rat-faced dolt, he was practically betrothed and kicking him only partially relieved him of the horror he felt at the thought of marrying Kate Braeburn.

He had no intention of committing himself to such a creature; her nocturnal abilities were little compensation for the daytime presence of too much flesh and a complexion which, stripped of its paints and powders, would look like a badly maintained turnpike road. It had been a close shave: he’d so nearly blurted out the secret of her visits.

While Charles was far from sure how much of Kissock’s reference to the power of admirals was true, he had just witnessed the favourable side and was thankful to have missed the opposite, however exaggerated it might be.

His servant came out of the chest cursing his unknown assailant, the expletives dying on his lips as he saw his master, standing with his hands on his hips and a look in his eye which presaged another blow.

‘You’se got no clean stockings, your honour,’ he pleaded. ‘I was just checking.’

‘Unlike some of your officers and all of your own messmates, I was brought up with a whole host of servants and they have all been thieves to varying degrees. You’ll find all of my possessions are carefully accounted for. Your job is to keep them intact, not to sell them off’.’

The look of injured pride was one Kissock had been required to manufacture in the past, one he was sure looked as genuine as the tone of voice which went with it.

‘Your honour, would I do as such?’

‘As soon as my back is turned and sometimes before my very eyes. Now, tell me, what are the duties of a Flag Lieutenant?’

In the short walk to his room, he’d arrived at a conclusion. He would never marry Kate Braeburn but there would be no harm in letting her father think he might.

Kissock’s face brightened. ‘Can I enquire why you’re asking, your honour.’

‘No, you can’t.’

The sharp response only made it certain the question was far from idle curiosity.

‘Well they generally calls them admiral’s bum boys,’ Kissock pronounced loftily, then continued quickly, as the face before him turned livid.

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