Page 43 of Escaping Pirates
“Captain, I really have no time for dancing. I need to wash this tea set?—”
Tyrone released the tray right as I gave another tremendous tug, and I tumbled backwards, down the wooden steps leading to the deck. The porcelain cups, saucers, and teapot shattered with an almightycrash.
“What was that?” Sugar shrieked from inside her quarters.
They were going to have a fit when they saw what had become of their favorite tea set. Just as the door to the captain’s quarters flew open, Tyrone swooped down to my side, taking far too much time to brush fragments of the broken porcelain off my dress.
“Dear, dear, so clumsy of you,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around my waist and lifting me to my feet. I cringed at his touch, which gave me a feeling just as slimy as his hair.
“Ella, what did youdo?” Blossom screamed, staring at the broken cups. “You half-wit!”
Before his girls could cry out, “Daddy!” as they always did, Captain Harsh appeared and glowered at the broken pieces of crockery.
“Explain, girl!” he barked at me.
“It was my fault, Harsh,” Tyrone cut in smoothly. “I’m afraid I surprised your serving girl here, and she accidentally dropped the tray. Allow me to replace it. I have a particularly fine set aboard theFortune Hunterthat I know my nieces would enjoy.”
“Scurvyella should be the one to replace it, not you,” Sugar sneered. “She broke it, after all.”
“Perhaps, but I’m a gracious man who’s willing to take responsibility for my part in this unfortunate mishap. I’ll send a man now to fetch the set. It’s the finest porcelain imported from Haven Harbor and is trimmed with gold.”
“Ooooh, gold!” The girls squealed together, holding hands and jumping up and down with excitement.
I wanted to shout that Tyrone was the sole cause of the accident, but I held back. No one would believe an enslaved scullery maid’s story when a ship’s captain had already spoken. And Tyrone knew Sugar and Blossom well enough to know that they would never turn down a gift like an exotic tea set.
“Girl, what do you say?” Harsh growled at me.
My jaw clenched before I gave a small curtsy. “Thank you, Captain, for your generosity.” I hated the feeling of each word as it weighed on my tongue.
“I’m sure you can make it worth my while,” he said with a self-satisfied smile. “I heard that Berkway is planning to celebrate Prince Ernst’s coronation soon, and I must confess that the news put me in a festive mood. Wouldn’t you girls agree?”
Sugar and Blossom bobbed their heads up and down.
Tyrone stroked his moustache. “If I remember correctly, Harsh, you said that your girls were fond of dancing.”
“Ella taught us to dance just like her,” Sugar cooed. “We’re ladies now.”
“Indeed? I’d very much want to see her talent in action.”
“Talent is an exaggeration,” I said, staring resolutely at the shards on the floor that I needed to sweep up. “I’d rather not?—”
“How ungrateful can you be, wench?” Harsh boomed. “My brother just offered to take care ofyourclumsy mistake, asking a mere dance in return for an imported luxury worth twelve times anything you’ve ever owned, and you turn him down?” He shook his head at me then directed his attention to Tyrone. “Elena would be delighted to dance with you this evening. My girls are eager to dance with Harlan, and we would be honored to have you join us.”
Sugar and Blossom squealed again. “A real dance! How exquisite!”
“I don’t have a suitable dress,” I protested, grasping at the last excuse I could think of.
Tyrone’s lip curled into a covetous smile. “I happen to have a gown perfect for such an occasion aboard my ship. I’ll send it over so you girls can startgetting ready.”
I gaped in horror at the so-called gown Tyrone sent for me. It was the type of low-cut, form-fitting dress that only raunchy tavern maids would wear in less reputable company.
“Blossom, may I borrow one of your dresses?” I begged.
“No scullery maid is going to wearmyclothes,” she said snippily. “Now help me with my hoops. I want to dazzle Harlan tonight.”
“Sugar?” I pleaded, fastening the hoops in place around Blossom’s waist to give her the illusion of having hips. “May I borrow one of yours? Please.”
“It would be an insult not to wear what my uncle sent for you,” she sniffed, powdering her nose in front of the vanity. “And after all he did for you today, you owe him. Just put it on. They’ll expect us soon.”
