The Captive Heart Read Free Page B

threads met her touch.
    Her stomach sank.
    The sailor’s voice grazed over her shoulder. “There a problem, missy?”
    A thousand pinpricks traveled from scalp to toe. Without that money—and more importantly the note of recommendation—her only hope was that Lady Brougham’s letter had reached Mr. Taggerton ahead of this ship and that he was looking for her. For if he weren’t, this was more than a problem. It was slavery.
    She’d be sold off to the highest bidder to pay for her passage.

Chapter 3
    T rapped. Desperate. Eleanor tried in vain to ignore the strangling emotions as she tipped her face toward the only light intrepid enough to slip through the grate in the ceiling. She’d never longed for fresh air as much as now. With the temperature in the hog pen rising, so did the stench—and it was especially ripe today, with two more bodies yet to be removed. At first, she’d spurned Biz’s slang for the hold. Not anymore. If anything, the term was too generous. Even swine would have a hard time breathing down here. A pox on Lord Brougham and the captain for assigning her such a fate.
    “I’m not stayin’ a day more, I’ll tell ye that.” Behind her, Biz’s voice filtered through the stench. “I’m leavin’ with the next buyer what comes down those stairs, and I don’t care a figgity nigglet if it’s a one-legged snake charmer a-wearin’ an eyepatch.”
    With a last inhale, Eleanor turned. It took a moment for her vision to adjust to the darkness and focus on Biz, though the woman stood hardly ten paces away. Lanterns hung from the bulkhead, stretching the length of the narrow compartment. None were lit, their candle stubs long since melted into memories of light.
    Eleanor tugged her bodice, lifting the damp fabric from her skin. “Are you really going to be able to still your tongue long enough to keep from frightening off another prospect?”
    Biz raised her chin. “Aye.”
    “No matter what?”
    The woman rolled her eyes. “I said aye, din’t I?”
    A worthy try, but Eleanor would not be put off. “I believe I have heard that before.”
    “Well, this time I mean it. Let ’em look at my teeth, my hair, my feet.” She flashed a defiant smile. “Why, I’ve half a mind to lift my skirt if it’ll do any good.”
    “Biz!”
    Her smile vanished. “And don’t pretend you won’t, too. Yer as close to crackin’ as the rest of us, standing below that grate from sunup to evenin’, staring like a blind woman after a lover long gone.”
    Eleanor frowned. Biz was more right than anyone knew. Desperation courted her with all the determination of a relentless suitor. If Mr. Taggerton didn’t come for her soon, well … Despite the heat, she shuddered. With the exception of harlotry, there wasn’t much she wouldn’t consider.
    Biz paced three steps forward, three back—as far as her ball and chain allowed. “It ain’t right, cooping us up like animals. No light. No air. Food ain’t fit fer Newgate bait, and I know that for a fact.” Curses sprinkled her tirade like a steady rainfall. “Even my worst days on the streets, I could catch a whiff o’ breeze or snatch a bucket o’ water to wash in.”
    Two pallets over, straddling the border where light gave up its ghost and darkness began, Molly moaned—then twisted and emptied her stomach off the side of the cot.
    Biz took a step nearer to Eleanor and lowered her voice. “How’s she doin’?”
    Eleanor bit her lip. Would that Molly’s body might not be counted among those carried out in a sailcloth. “She needs to get out of here.”
    Bootsteps pounded overhead, followed by a rattle of keys—the sweet, sweet sound of freedom.
    Biz’s eyes shot to Eleanor’s. “What if it’s not yer Mr. Taggerton this time?”
    The question circled like a vulture over a carcass, each pass one more peck at her faith. Why did God not answer? Why did the man not come? She was nearly the last left aboard, other than Biz and a few others who were sicker