Ramage & the Guillotine Read Free Page B

Ramage asked innocently.
    The butler glanced nervously at the door, as if fearful his wife was waiting outside to pounce on him, and then shook his head expressively.
    Gianna sat at the table and motioned Ramage to a chair opposite her. “What have the newspapers to say today?”
    â€œIt seems my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty have given Lord Nelson a new job.”
    â€œAs long as their Lordships don’t find one for you,” she said sharply. “The Admiralty must let you have a holiday.”
    â€œI have a month’s leave,” he reminded her.
    â€œBut only eleven days are left.”
    Ramage’s eyebrows lifted. “You keep a tally?”
    â€œYes,” she said quietly, “though I don’t know why: you can’t wait to get to sea again and leave me all alone, and—”
    â€œIf there’s no ship for me, I’ll be able—”
    â€œThere’ll be a ship,” she interrupted angrily. “You are famous now! Why, even your father says you should be made post very soon. ‘Captain Ramage’—how does that sound? And you’ll wear an epaulet on your right shoulder, and after three years you can put one on your left shoulder as well. You see,” she said, her eyes sparkling, “I’m learning about naval etiquette. I’ve read the King’s Regulations and Admiralty Instructions, and the Articles of War, too. Soon I—”
    â€œThe change of Government,” he said soothingly, alarmed at the way her voice was rising and startled at what she had been reading. “Lord Spencer is no longer First Lord of the Admiralty …”
    â€œBut the new First Lord knows you well—why, Lord St Vincent was your Commander-in-Chief in the Mediterranean when Lord Nelson was still only a commodore.”
    â€œHe’ll have forgotten me—there are hundreds of lieutenants in the Navy!”
    â€œThousands!” a voice boomed from the doorway. “All of them scoundrels, with a girl in every port!”
    The Admiral strode into the room, a tall man with aquiline features and silver-grey hair. He had the same deep-set and penetrating brown eyes as his son and the stance and walk of a man used to exercising authority; the lines on his face showed that he laughed readily and frequently. “Good morning to the pair of you,” he said, noting Gianna’s tight lips and wondering what they had been quarrelling about. “You’ve already eaten, Nicholas?”
    â€œHours ago, sir,” Ramage said lightly.
    â€œLeft some oysters for me, I hope.” He saw Ramage’s expression. “I forgot you don’t like ‘em. Pity—oysters and cold tongue; the finest breakfast there is. Don’t you agree, m’dear?”
    â€œNo,” Gianna said flatly, “oysters
sono horribile.”
    The Earl grinned cheerfully as he sat down and rang the bell. “You know, Nicholas, I’ve noticed that Gianna always lapses into Italian when she’s on the verge of mutiny. Ever have the same trouble with Italian seamen?”
    â€œonly that fellow Rossi—I was telling you about him.”
    â€œBut he’s a
Genovese!”
Gianna exclaimed.
    â€œGood seamen come from Genoa. Anyway, he helped save your life,” Ramage pointed out.
    â€œAnd yours, too!”
    The Admiral rang the bell again. “Children, stop bickering.”
    â€œI’m not bick—”
    â€œYou are out of fashion, though,” Ramage interrupted, raising the newspapers. “At least, according to the
Morning Post.”
    Gianna glared at him, knowing he was trying to keep her off the subject of him getting a new ship. “Let me see.”
    He passed over the newspaper. “Yellow muslin trimmed with black lace, scarlet spencers, and little round hat with deep veils …”
    She read for a few moments and then sniffed. “Rubbish—that’s for innkeepers’ wives.