The Wickedest, Most Troublesome City in the World
emerged on deck while the few who stayed on the ship still slept. Across the harbor, the streets had fallen silent, so the argument brought her up short.
“—wasting your time, Ralph.” William’s sharp words drifted from the quarterdeck, and she shrank into the shadows. “You’ve had years to act on your feelings, and now I’m watching you pansy around what you told me you wanted. Do you actually know?”
“Maybe that is what I want,” Ralph bit back. “To pansy.”
“Don’t be smart with me. You have to grow up sometime. You’re twenty-six, for God’s sake—”
“And you’re nearly thirty!” Ralph retorted. “When are you—”
“I chose my path. What are you doing?”
Ralph gave a harsh laugh. “I have a path. Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s wrong. I came here for you, and I stayed because of her.”
Aurelia dared not breathe. So Ralph did notice Lavinia, and it made all the more sense why he hadn’t come home or written.
“You’ve earned your own wealth,” William said. “You’ve got prospects. You’ve got everything you wanted to give her. Why are you waiting?”
“Tell me, how am I to court a woman on a pirate ship, surrounded by stinking idiots? Invite her straight to bed? I was raised better than that—I was raised to treat my intended with honor, to ask permission to court her first. With all we have at our disposal, who I am outside of this ship, how could I give her less?”
“Then get off the ship,” William answered, his voice hard. “Stop wasting your time and hers. You’re not being as honorable as you think by drawing this out for as long as you have.”
Ralph laughed again. “Oh, like you’re so honorable?”
“When I’m not, it’s because I’m choosing to be so,” William said coldly. “I am not so easily fooled to believe otherwise. But this isn’t about me—it’s about her.”
His anger surprised her. Though William and Lavinia were clearly friends, she’d never seen him protective over her. In fact, he’d showed more concern over Aurelia in the short time she’d been here. Maybe he still felt something for his former flame, and the thought sat in her chest like a stone.
“Don’t be a fool and lose the chance you told me you wanted,” William said. “You talk about her like she’s the sun, but you do nothing to gain her warmth.”
“I am not entitled to it,” Ralph hissed, his tone as frosty as his brother’s. “I will give her the courtship she deserves when it’s time. Until then, I’m content to be as we are.”
“You’re a prideful fool to think she’d give a damn where you court her. She’s not going to wait forever.”
“I don’t need your lectures or timelines, and I certainly don’t need your help. I don’t want it.”
William huffed. “Fine. Then you won’t have it. But there are always consequences to complacency. You’d do well to consider them—I truly don’t want to see you broken.”
“How kind.”
A beat of silence. Then a growled, “Get off my deck.”
Aurelia scurried away before Ralph could see her. By the time they went to shore later that morning, Ralph showed no sign that he’d argued with his brother. Or taken his advice.
For the entire next week, in fact, Ralph treated Lavinia as he always did, and Aurelia understood William’s frustration with his brother for doing nothing to solidify what would be a great match.
She also understood, even from childhood, how staunchly Ralph clung to his convictions. It had annoyed her then and still bothered her now. She might’ve spoken to him about it, but couldn’t think of anything William hadn’t already said. So she observed and stayed silent on the topic.
The city remained frantically abuzz at Copson’s presence, but while Ralph and Lavinia pulled her into Nassau each day, William rarely left the ship, spending his time ensuring the proper shipments—cannonballs, gunpowder, food, water, tools—made their way aboard.
When they were fully stocked, Copson announced they’d head for Port Royal to appease the crew and their increasing talk of a more sinful city. Two days later, they were there.
Though Nassau was ruled by pirates, Port Royal sounded like the kind of place Aunt Clara might say was lorded over by the devil himself. The sailors spoke of brothels and taverns as though they were all the city had to offer, and they hadn’t even fully docked before she saw a man completely sever another’s arm and stroll away, leaving his victim screaming in the street with blood pouring from his shoulder.
“S’not so bad,” Fenner said morosely from beside her as she watched in shock. “I once saw a Dutchman roast two men alive on a spit for refusing to give him a pig.” He heaved a sigh and clutched the crucifix around his neck. “No place worse than Port Royal.”
Aurelia remained on the Destiny’s Revenge with the skeleton crew that day while most of the others ran amuck well into the night. The mermaid had followed Copson to Port Royal, and the creature’s nighttime serenade lulled Aurelia to sleep in the midst of contemplating futile ways she might convince Ralph to be less of a gentleman.
On the second day, she took advantage of the quiet to write a letter to her aunt.
Dear Aunt Clara,
You will have read about my kidnapping in the papers by now. Please know I am fine and unharmed. And all things considered, I am happy.
Please don’t worry for me.
Love,
Aurelia
She read the letter over. She didn’t want her aunt to worry. Neither did she want to sound too content, lest Aunt Clara get upset for a different reason entirely.
Sighing, she folded the parchment.
Aurelia had been on board for two months now, and she’d only sought William once—the night she returned his clothes and drank his whiskey. The thought of it still made her nervous, but her stationary kit was buried in her trunks on the Ophelia, and she needed sealing wax, which she knew he had…
She made her way to the main deck and knocked softly on his door. Steps approached, and the door swung open.
“Miss Rowe,” William said, seeming surprised to see her. He scanned the empty deck behind her before his gaze settled on the note she raised between them.
“Do you still have the seal you used for my letters?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said without pause. “Come in.”
She followed him to his desk where he lit a candle under a wax warmer and retrieved a small metal stamp with a red wooden handle from a drawer. He set it on the edge of the desk.
“Sending a letter?”
“To my aunt. To tell her I’m fine.” She held out the folded parchment. “Did you want to read it? In case I said something too obvious?”
He shook his head. “I don’t need to read it.”
She lowered her hand, her face warming. Of course he wouldn’t need to read it. She wasn’t a child to be checked, and she silently chided herself for playing into the perception.
“Unless you want me to,” he said as her silence stretched. “But you haven’t told anyone anything terribly secret in ten years. What’s a couple weeks at sea?”
She lifted the stamp and looked at the inverse of the Danby crest, deferring to sarcasm as she silently entreated God to take away her ability to blush. “I wouldn’t want to undo a century of Copson infamy by daring to tell her I’m happy.”
William chuckled. “That’s nothing I couldn’t handle with a few well-placed lies.”
“Fenner told me about a pirate who roasted people on a spit—perhaps you could draw inspiration from that.”
“Ah, you’ve heard about Roche Braziliano,” he said. “Good pirate, awful man—but no one’s seen or heard from him for years.” He winked.
Aurelia stared intently at the flame and melting wax as her heart attempted to return to a normal rhythm. Her blazing cheeks, however, were hopeless.
He nodded to her letter. “Are you sending it today?”
Her attention remained firmly on the candle. “That was my plan.”
“May I join you?”
She looked up. “In Port Royal?”
“Unless you planned to send it from somewhere else.”
She touched the edge of the small melting spoon. Wax swirled around the edges. “I’m sure I’ll be alright,” she said, and set her hand on the sword at her hip. The thought of wandering into Port Royal alone made her sweat, but for all his memories of her as a child, maybe this might convince him she was more than a girl to be worried over.
“I know. I ask as a friend, not a chaperone.”
Shyness overshadowed the will to prove herself. An outing with William, more than small talk or sipping drinks on deck. Now she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go by herself solely to prove she was capable or to save herself from being a fool in front of him.
A smile teased at the edges of her lips as she remembered being fourteen and accepting his offer to carry her home. At the time, she’d needed a good excuse to skirt impropriety—now she needed no other reason to say yes other than she wanted to. She wanted time with William, even if she had no idea what to do or say once she had it.
But she could be brave. She’d proven that much. “Do you know where the post office is?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said. “I’ve patronized it once or twice.”
She grinned at his implication. The wax had finally melted enough, so she dripped a small circle onto the letter and sealed it with the stamp. “Alright. Come with me if you want.”
“Perfect.” William blew out the candle. “I swear to be the best guide you’ve ever had to the worst city you’ll ever see.” He headed for the door, grabbing his coat and hat on the way.
They descended the gangplank to the dock and started for the city, and the entire time, Aurelia wracked her brain for something to say. Something to ask him. Something witty and bright and amusing. But nothing came to mind as they moseyed between weather-worn buildings and avoided stumbling drunks—despite it still being morning—and busty ladies who leered at William from open doors.
He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the cobblestones pass beneath his boots. Then, mercifully, he spoke first.
“Did you ever get your books back? The ones you said were taken.”
She thought of Aunt Clara’s dusty attic and her countless failed attempts to break the lock between her and her books. “No, I didn’t. I don’t think they’re even among my dowry.” None of her trunks on the Purgatory had looked like the one she’d known to hold her childhood. If it had been among them, she would’ve been glad to see it.
“Do you still wish you had them?”
“Of course.” She smiled at the thought. “They’re still precious to me, whether or not they’re locked up.”
“There’s a shop that sells books a couple streets that way.” He jerked his head toward a side street. “I’m sure you could find something to your tastes.”
The debauchery of the wicked city unfolded around them, but Aurelia focused only on the man beside her and the way he stared resolutely at the ground, as though to bore right through it. She looked at the same bricks he did, wondering yet again what made his stare so intense.
“Why didn’t you write back?”
Suddenly, she was pinned by his blue gaze, weathering the full force of his curiosity. She blinked but couldn’t bring herself to look away. “I…I don’t know.”
“Surely you do.” The edge of his mouth curved up. “I only received two short notes from you in the lifetime of our arrangement, a brief letter about your plans to travel, and then three rather desperate pleas aside from the two I have yet to collect. I thought I’d get stacks of mail after I invited you to reply.”
She ripped her gaze away, looking to the shops passing by with hopes they’d tell her what to say. But she only saw a man’s bare backside on one side of the street and another throwing up his liquor on the other.
Paling, she stared at her shoes. “I didn’t know you wanted me to.”
“Of course I did,” he said with a laugh. “Or I wouldn’t have sent you addresses by which to reach me. I enjoyed the few words I did manage to get from you.”
“I hardly said anything,” she said, breathless.
“Which was why I sent you the addr—” He sighed, grinning fully now. “I swear I’m not scolding you. I’m only curious.”
“What did you want me to say?”
“Whatever you wanted. You’re quite witty, and I quite enjoy it.”
“I have nothing witty to tell you why I didn’t write.” She followed as he gestured for them to turn down another street. “I didn’t because…” She fell back into step beside him, and now she was the one who glared at the bricks beneath her feet. “Well, I suppose it’s because I did all I could to be sensible in my aunt’s eyes—and my parents’.”
William waited for her to continue.
“And I hated it,” she continued. “I well and truly hated it, but somehow they convinced me it was right. Simply receiving letters from a pirate felt like…like a book I could close. Each one was only a story—I read it, burned it, and I was done. It was as simple as reading the paper, so I could excuse it and still be sensible.” She met his gaze. “But to write you back would’ve been like never closing the book. It’d be like beating it against my head and hoping for something impossible to happen. I’d have stepped into your world in some small way, wished for more, and descended into madness for not having it.”
He considered this with pursed lips.
“And I very nearly did write,” she said when he still didn’t speak. “Every one of my suitors was a fiend or a bore. Being sensible only made me sad, and I thought if anyone would be receptive to hearing that, it might be you. But no one likes a girl who complains, and besides, I never did anything interesting, so I burned every letter I wrote before I could send it.”
“I wouldn’t have minded in the least. You should’ve sent them.” He turned his shoulders toward her, sidestepping up the street. “And what’s this about impossibilities? All it took was one of your letters asking for my help and I came, didn’t I? If sailing was a life you wanted, it was certainly open to you.”
She shook her head. “Proper young women don’t run away with pirates.”
“I think you listened too much to your aunt and thought too greatly of your parents.”
“Pardon me,” she said, flustered at the accusation. “Who else was I supposed to listen to?”
“Me,” he said, laughing again. “You told me from the outset that you were troublesome, and I wouldn’t have endorsed it if I couldn’t support you fully. Now look where you are.” He swept out his hand. “I’ve brought you to the wickedest, most troublesome city in the world.”
A sign for the post office loomed ahead, its metal face riddled with dents and bullet holes. As they neared, a gunshot exploded from somewhere nearby, and the sign flipped upward before falling back into place with a new dent in the o in Post. Laughter pealed from somewhere to their right.
“Humor me,” William said, “and tell me what you would have written.”
And because she had no doubt now that he truly wanted to know, she laughed sharply as familiar ire roared to the surface. “I would have told you polite society is anything but, and the men who courted me were monsters who fully deserved the catty young women they married. I would have asked you how best to make them hate me so they’d never look my way again. I didn’t want to be a stupid oaf’s miserable wife meant to throw parties and make babies and be a pretty, soft thing while my husband had his mistresses and gambling and masks. I even determined I wanted to be like my aunt so I could be grouchy and unlikeable while I grew old with my fortune, and everyone could pity me while I laughed at them.”
His answering guffaw bounced off the buildings around them and drew looks from the people in the street. “You look up to old Lady Wedderburn after all,” he said as they reached the post office. He held the door open. “That explains it fully.”
Aurelia approached the clerk and slid her letter across the counter. William set two silver pieces beside it, his gold rings glinting.
“I have money,” she said to him.
“So do I.”
The door opened behind them, and several pairs of boots thudded inside. A man sidled up next to her, but Aurelia paid him no mind—until he snatched her letter off the counter.
She spun, a curse ready on her tongue as she grabbed for the letter. “That’s mine!”
He tugged it beyond her reach, scrutinizing the wax seal.
“This is the Danby’s crest,” the man said, a French accent warping his words. “How did you get it?”
“You’re mistaken, sir,” William said in a hard voice. Aurelia swiped at the letter again.
The man’s eyes widened. “You—you’re Aurelia Danby.” Others turned, and beneath their coats were the blue uniforms of the French. “She’s Aurelia Danby!”
Her blood went cold. Behind her, William cursed as the Frenchman grabbed her arm. A half second later, William’s fingers wrapped around her other elbow. He yanked her to him and drew his gun as the Frenchman cried, “I found Lady Danby—!”
The gun exploded into the officer’s face, the bullet blowing into his skull and out the other side with a spray of blood and brain.
The man’s hand fell away.
Aurelia gasped. William turned, shielding her with his body as the others surged forward, drawing their weapons, but before they could shoot, he shoved Aurelia toward the exit. His gun discharged behind her, the shots coming in quick succession. She was outside before the bodies hit the floor.
William kept shooting until his gun clicked, the bullets spent. Moving with quick, deadly precision, he shoved it back in its holster and reached across his body for the other as he took Aurelia’s hand and dashed down the street, shoving past pirates and locals, their faces a mix of confusion and irritation.
French commands and more gunshots pursued them. Bullets whizzed past their heads and cracked into brick walls and cobblestones. William dragged her around a corner and onto another street, then into a shadowed alley where he pinned her against the wall and dipped his face toward hers, angling his head so his hat blocked their faces. To any passersby, they might look like drunken lovers too eager to make it back to an inn.
“Are you alright?” he whispered as shouts grew louder from the way they’d come. One hand gripped her upper arm, the other held her waist.
She nodded, fighting for breath as his chest pressed against hers. “I think so.” But she was very much not fine with William nearer than anyone she’d ever liked. She could hardly think past—
“Good,” he panted, his breath warm against her neck. His jaw brushed her cheek. “I’m terribly sorry, my lady, but they won’t look twice if they think we’re otherwise engaged.”
She shook her head, but stopped when she felt his stubble graze her face. “It’s fine.” She was not fine—she was, perhaps, actually quite more than fine.
“Welcome to Port Royal,” he said with a chuckle that skated over her skin and left goose flesh in its wake.
The soldiers passed the alley, yelling commands coupled with her name. When they were gone, he slowly pulled away, his eyes bright, and glanced toward the mouth of the alley. “It won’t take long for the rest of the French to know we’re here. They’ll know to look for you with me, and with the Destiny’s Revenge in port…” He swore. “We need to leave the city.”
“The crew,” she said weakly. They’d been given three days here, and many wouldn’t return to the ship until that time was up. Captain Copson couldn’t sail away without them, but it seemed their stay was approaching its end faster than anticipated.
With another muttered curse, he lifted his hands to his forehead, tipping his hat back to dig his fingers into his skull. “Let me think, let me think…”
Aurelia remained against the wall while he paced. With his eyes covered, she let her smile appear. He stopped and let his hands fall to his sides. Her smile vanished a moment before he turned to her, his jaw working.
“I have some friends,” he told her, his tone cautious. “But to meet them…you’ll have to trust me.”
She blinked. “What kind of friends?”
He reached for her hand and pulled her back the way they’d come. “Important ones.”