Page 43 of Dukes Do It Better
“Captain, where is your boat?” Alton asked around a mouthful of ham sandwich.
Emma said, “Manners. Chew and swallow before speaking.”
Mal waited for Alton to follow her instructions before answering. “My ship is currently undergoing maintenance in Portsmouth while I sort out some business with the Admiralty.”
“Convenient that you were able to bring it back to port to wait for you,” she commented.
“That took some maneuvering, I admit. But it was needed, because the king had essentially left us out to sea without any scheduled maintenance for far too long. Once the war ended, the fleet took lower precedence in the government’s priorities. We’ve been limping along in many ways.” Mal bit into his own sandwich, then washed it down with the lemonade. Emma had to wonder at everything he wasn’t saying. He’d mentioned the sailors going without pay the other day in her drawing room. Life at sea truly wasn’t as glamorous as some were led to believe.
“Have you ever fought pirates?” Alton asked—after a drink, mouth sans food.
“We didn’t see as much action during the war as some ships, because of where we were stationed. But we’ve taken a couple prizes for the king over the years.”
Emma cocked her head at the strange tone in his voice as she dismantled her sandwich, nibbling each element piece by piece. “You don’t sound happy about avoiding battle.”
Mal leaned his head back to look her in the eye. “Father was in the diplomatic service. He pulled strings and threw his name about to keep the Athena from action. My men signed up for conflict and prize money. Instead, they received iced lines and empty pockets because they were unlucky enough to serve with me.”
Interesting. A theory pieced together in her brain and she had to ask if it held weight. “You said your mother wielded something with the Admiralty to pull you home. Is it connected to your father’s service to the crown?”
“Yes.”
Something powerful on a government level. Emma’s eyes went wide enough to bulge and she could feel pressure behind them as she glanced around to verify that they were alone. Absently, she handed another serviette to her son to wipe his fingers as he pressed a small piece of cheese into the porthole of his wooden boat. That would need to be picked out later or it would attract rodents to the nursery. “You’re searching for diplomatic secrets?” she hissed.
His pale hazel eyes avoided hers, but he nodded.
Worry for him made her stare in horror. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
“No more or less dangerous than my mother claiming to have them and making herself a target to silence.”
Her spine went soft. “It’s not only about turning them over to the government and getting back to your ship, is it?”
Mal sighed. “I’d like to think it is. The emotions are confusing at best. But by claiming she has this thing and using the information for her own purposes, she’s drawn attention to herself. There’s a fine line between wielding your title for power and overstepping to make yourself a target. And Mother, well, she’s never known when to stop.”
“I can hit a target with my bow and arrow!” Alton interjected, then returned to his sandwich.
“That’s a fine skill to have. Even I can’t do that,” Mal said with forced cheer.
“Do you miss the sea?” Alton asked, changing the subject in typical childlike fashion.
“Very much. I like having a purpose. Aboard ship, even in times of peace, there’s always something to do. I miss that.”
It seemed the conversation about Mal’s search for his father’s secrets would have to wait. Emma matched Mal’s happy tone and said, “Today, your purpose is to play with the HMS Beauty, eat sandwiches in the sun, and drink more lemonade than a five-year-old boy. Otherwise, he’ll need to wee on a bush halfway home.”
“I will accept that mission,” he said with a more genuine smile.
Emma grinned back and resumed eating. The cheddar in the sandwich was sharp enough to make her mouth pucker, and she savored every bite before moving on to the sweeter cured ham.
“Do you always dissect your sandwiches like that?” Mal asked.
Alton answered for her. “Always. She says it helps one to enjoy the different parts.”
Emma smiled and shrugged. “It’s true. Besides, what I really love is the bread. I don’t want ham interfering with that.”
Mal tilted his head. “Isn’t the entire point of a sandwich to layer the flavors and textures?” He turned to Alton. “Your mother is a strange duck, lad. I like her. But she’s not without her oddities.”
Alton nodded, grabbing another sandwich. “Uncle Cal says they found her as a baby in a hollowed-out tree, and that explains everything about her.”
A deep rumble of laughter came from Mal, as he rolled onto his back and threaded his fingers over his stomach. With his eyes closed, and a smile lingering on his mouth, Emma took a moment to enjoy the look of him. She couldn’t help brushing a few stray hairs back from his forehead, and Mal opened one eye to look up at her.
