The Admiral's Daughter

to come and go as she chooses, which is her right as a gentlewoman.' His head bent to the writing.

The evening seemed destined for success: all invitations were taken up and Kydd was kept busy greeting the steady stream of guests who showed every inclination to linger.

Cecilia sparkled as hostess; her orange-flower and brandy rout cakes were universally applauded. Becky, under Tysoe's discreet tutelage, mingled with a tray of cordials and wines and it was not long before number eighteen resounded to scenes of gaiety and warmth.

'Ah, Mrs Mullins!' Kydd said warmly. 'Y'r help in acquiring m' residence is much appreciated. Can ye not feel how it likes t' see a party?'

'I do that, Mr Kydd,' she replied, hiding a smile.

'Sir, a Miss Robbins.' It was the hired footman at the door.

'Why, Mr Kydd! So good of you to remember us.' There was movement behind her as she went on, 'Ah, the invitation did mention 'a friend,' did it not?' she cooed.

'O' course it did, Miss . . .' Her friend emerged from behind her, stopping Kydd mid-sentence. 'Oh! Er, th-thank you f'r coming, Miss Lockwood,' he managed, then remembered a polite bow, took the proffered hand and escorted her in.

She was in a cream dress of the latest fashion and had taken some considerable pains with her Grecian hairstyle. 'I noticed your ship arrive, Mr Kydd,' she said warmly. 'Such a pretty creature. A brig-sloop, I'd hazard?'

'Aye—that is t' say, yes, she is. Teazer is her name.'

'How curious,' she said. Her hazel eyes held his for a long moment. 'Does she suit you?'

Kydd returned the look coolly but inwardly he exulted. How had she known it was his ship unless it had been pointed out to her—or she had been looking out for it? Either way it proved her interest in him. 'Why, Miss Lockwood, there's been three Teazers in our sea service this age but none s' sweet a sailer on a bowline as—as my Teazer. '

'How agreeable for you.' She paused and continued softly, 'Tell me this, would you trust your very life to her in a great storm?'

'I would,' Kydd answered immediately. He wondered what lay behind her words, realising that she was using the seafarer's 'she' for a ship instead of the landlubber's soulless 'it.'

'I have afore now, an' conceive I will again, all th' time I'm in English seas.'

'Just so,' she said politely, her eyes still on him. Kydd felt a blush rising. 'Well, Mr Kydd, if I don't see you again tonight let me tell you how much I have enjoyed meeting you once more.'

Kydd bowed wordlessly and, claimed by Miss Robbins, Persephone Lockwood entered the throng. Kydd gazed after her, seeing people fall back in deference to her quality and respectful glances flashed his way.

He resumed his duties, conscious of rising elation. Time passed, and the first guests made ready to depart, among them Miss Lockwood. Should he strike up a conversation before she left? But before he could act she had caught his eye and moved over to him. 'Mr Kydd, thank you for a lovely evening.'

'M-my pleasure, Miss L-Lockwood,' he stuttered.

'I wonder—no, I have no right to ask it of you,' she said, with a frown, a gloved hand going to her mouth.

'Do, please,' Kydd said gallantly.

'Well, since you are so obliging, it does occur to me that you could be of some service to me in a small matter that would really mean a lot.'

'Miss Lockwood, if I c'n do anything . . .'

'It's for my father,' she said apologetically. 'I have it in mind to present him with a painting for his birthday, a marine painting. You see, I'm concerned that it be completely authentic in its sea detail—you've no idea how testy Papa gets when he espies errors in the rigging and so forth. If you could assist me to choose wisely I would be most grateful.'

'Er, yes! I mean t' say, o' course I will.'

'You're most kind. Then shall we meet at the print publisher in Old Plymouth? I've been told he also has some fine sea paintings. Would Wednesday, at eleven, suit?'

'Wednesday, yes,' Kydd blurted. Two days.

'Oh—and this had better be our little secret,' she concluded, with an impish smile.

'Come.' Kydd looked up from his pile of official letters.

'I'll be off ashore, then, sir,' his first lieutenant said boyishly. He looked dashing in his cutaway coat and gush of lace cravat, and held a rakish silk hat as though he was trying to hide it.

'By all means, Mr Standish.' The unwritten custom was that the two officers would take turn and turn about to be out of the ship while at short stay in port. 'An' good fortune with the . . . the entertainments.'

The other flashed a broad smile and was gone.

Kydd bent once more to his task. The constant stream of invoices, dockets, reports and correspondence requiring his sole attention never ceased to amaze him, but any matter skimped or overlooked might rebound at a later time.

'Enter!' he called at a timid knock.

'From ashore, sir,' squeaked Andrews.

It was a simple folded letter from Cecilia.

Dear Thomas,

Jane has been lately telling me of your dockyard, and how it is the very wonder of the age. She says that if you are known to a person of consequence it is quite the thing to visit at length under escort. You would oblige me extremely if you will indulge my curiosity when