Winter, 1815
Of all the crazy things he'd done in his life, Anthony could not at the moment recall something so ludicrous as swimming across the night-darkened waters of a foreign harbor with a half-naked woman. Once they'd found a way down to the water without attracting further attention from her old enemy, Miss Carney had instructed Anthony to shed his women's clothing, tie his boots together to sling over his shoulder, and follow her into the murky rhythmically waves tugging at the shoreline. He'd been so caught up in emerging from the feminine disguise like a butterfly from its chrysalis that it wasn't until he stood barefoot in his trousers and shirt alone that Anthony realized beneath her disguise was something entirely different than his own.
He understood the reason for discarding the many layers and tying his boots together; they would only slow them down and prove a hazard once they were in the waters. However, he'd not expected Miss Carney to be wearing nothing but the simple linen breeches he'd spied the sailors of the Spirit wearing along with a thin waist-length linen shift. If the sun had been at high noon, Anthony was confident he would've been able to see through shift and breeches alike, but the darkening sky was in Miss Carney's favor for the time being, and the context of this display likewise kept his thoughts from straying overly far into unexpected realms of a more carnal nature. However, his gaze did stutter, and he had to force it away, preoccupying himself with double-checking his boots when he noted how the cool night breeze pebbled her nipples into hardened peaks beneath the shift.
"Here," she interrupted his thoughts as she handed him a simple wood stick before motioning him to follow her the rest of the way down to the water, "it is a hollow reed. If we have to pause by any boats and remain underwater, it will allow you to breathe." He nodded as he followed, pausing when she paused and looked back at him, a frown tugging at her lips, "In the harbor, it's quite likely water will overflow the top, so be ready to blow the water back out if that happens instead of surfacing."
"You have done this before, then?" Anthony questioned, his breath jolting in his chest at the first touch of the cold waters around his feet. Though it had been dastardly hot throughout the day, now that the sun had set, the waters were much cooler than the heated earthen walls of the city and shocked his body. "Dare I ask how often you have to retreat under such circumstances, Miss Carney?"
Again she stopped, this time so suddenly Anthony was all but embracing her to keep from toppling them both into the water. Faces close, she blinked up at him with a shadowed expression as if she were trying to determine how best to respond. Had they met years ago, Anthony figured he would have found her as beautiful as he found her aloof, an exotic creature to be admired from afar. Not so much because she lacked intelligence or the physical means to attract attention, but more so because she had yet to display any of the qualities he'd once boasted to his family as being a necessity for wifely material. Ironically, Kate had likewise held few of those qualities while Edwina had held them all. Anthony swallowed the painful memories, face pinching in a wince as he moved back to give them more distance.
"If you would rather we brandish imagined weapons and meet them in the streets side-by-side to avoid the sting of a watery retreat, Mister Bridgerton, color me outlandishly curious enough to follow you down that path, though it would be to our doom." She studied his features for a few more breaths before heaving a sigh and shaking her head, gesturing for him to follow again. "I am pragmatic enough to know which foe can be bested in which context. If that means I am skilled at a retreat in your eyes, then so be it."
It wasn't until she was in the water and kicking away from the shore that Anthony realized his words had stung her pride. Anthony quickly followed, reed clutched in hand. Having so many strong-minded women in the family, it didn't surprise him that Miss Carney would find his words noisome. Yet, until this day, she'd been so polite and agreeable—for the most part—that he hadn't quite gotten a read on her character or what sort of blood she had coursing in her veins. Within the past half hour, he'd undoubtedly been given quite the insight into her inner workings, and Anthony found himself intrigued. There seemed to be some similarities between Miss Carney and Kate, only in that they both spoke their mind and did not back down merely because of their sex. And she also seemed to have the sardonic wit that Eloise boasted, yet she had a grace about her that reminded Anthony of how his mother weathered every challenge put before her. Miss Carney was certainly proving to be more than his expectations.
The only lights illuminating the area were from the ships moored at port or bobbing at the docks, the torches along the shoreline, and the moon above. He shivered as his imagination supplied a variety of mythical creatures that could be swimming below them in the dark, actively fighting the urge to squirm and thrash in the current. Anthony abruptly jerked his head back when Miss Carney stopped swimming, reaching out for him to do the same. He wondered why she'd paused and opened his mouth to question when he heard it as well. The methodic sound of oars sinking into the waters.
Anthony willingly took her hand beneath the water, knowing it was very easy to be separated in the dark. They continued bobbing in the night's darkness, waiting for the skiff to reveal itself before they journeyed toward where they'd seen the Spirit moored. His heart leapt into his throat, and he instinctively moved when Anthony spied the skiff. He pulled Miss Carney against his body and kicked back, with her immediate aid helping them dodge out of the way of the unlit boat just moments away from overtaking her position. They took a deep breath at the same time and dipped below the waters, hand-in-hand, waiting for the shadow of the skiff to pass them by. There was no telling who it belonged to, but considering the circumstances, it was best to be overly cautious than as embarrassingly naïve as he'd been less than an hour before when she'd first found him.
His lungs burned, yet Miss Carney tugged at the shared grip to keep him from surfacing. He trusted her experience and remained at her side, fighting the urge to break the surface and gasp in much-needed air. Not for the first time, Anthony wondered how he'd ended up in this predicament. Yet, mercifully, she pulled at his hand only a few moments later, and together they surfaced. Once again, his hand felt oddly cold when she let go for them to resume their course through the waters. If he ever decided to share this story with his family, Anthony knew they would all fixate on how many times he'd held Miss Carney's hand.
"Almost there," he heard Miss Carney call back to him as they cut through the harbor waves, "just-"
Her words were cut off by a squeal when a hand shot out of the darkness, and her body was hauled up into the unseen skiff. Anthony didn't have time to do much more than blink at where she'd disappeared before he felt rough hands seizing his shoulders and also pulling him onto the rough-hewn wood of the skiff. The voices growling at one another in the darkness spoke in the local Omani dialect, with Miss Carney's sing-song accent breaking through as she responded in her limited capacity. A few confusing moments after he'd first been deposited at their feet in the middle of the skiff, Miss Carney was shoved nearly atop him while the oars were set back into the water, and the skiff resumed its motion.
"Who are these men?" Anthony asked as his hands found purchase on her water-slick shoulders, uncertain if he should hold her apart from him or keep her close.
He felt her shiver and decided to keep her closer, propriety be damned, "They are the sultan's men. I did not understand everything, but they are a routine patrol." She surprised Anthony by wrapping her arms around his shoulders and all but crawling into his lap. "I tried to tell them we were escaping my father's wrath so we could wed."
"Why would they believe such a tale?" Ducking his head, Anthony whispered, his lips brushing against the clammy skin of her forehead as she continued to squirm her away more firmly against him.
He felt her snort, "If you've ever read Omani tales, you would notice a theme of romanticism, Mister Bridgerton. Your empire may perceive them as merciless brutes, but by and large, they are romantics. If an opportunity to aid another's love story without the threat of repercussions arises, many will respond in the positive." She turned to stare at him, and Anthony returned her gaze despite his better judgment. Once more, their faces were close, with her forehead nearly knocking against his chin. Even in the darkness, he noted the bright look of mischief in her gaze. "What other reason would we have for swimming across the harbor in the dark of night, Mister Bridgeteron? Or would you rather I tell them about the marketplace?"
Anthony sighed before pulling her closer, even going so far as to help her shift her legs across his lap before returning his arm around her waist, anchoring her to his side. "Where are they taking us?"
"I told them we had booked passage on the Spirit. So either they believed us, and we will soon be back on board, or-"
"They saw through your lies, and we are headed back to the docks."
Miss Carny tucked her head against his shoulder and sighed, "Precisely, Mister Bridgerton. Either way, we are out of the dangers of the water." Anthony shook his head, not finding nearly as much to be optimistic about the situation as Miss Carney. "If they are taking us back to the dock, likely they will hold us in the harbor master's office until morning when they will check our story. During which time Mister Morris will send aid, and we can work through that, so long as the market guards do not testify against your chivalry."
Anthony lightly shook her shoulders when he felt her chuckle, her mirth during their predicament both infuriating and enticing. But then he felt his lips pull back into a smile despite himself and, after a few moments, also felt a light laugh escape his chest. Turning his head, Anthony tucked his face against her head as the laughter continued to bubble out of his chest. He felt her body shake in his arms as she fought through her own giggles. One of the sultan's men rowing behind Anthony barked out a few words in Omani, eliciting a few laughs and grunts of acknowledgment from the others.
"What did he say?" Anthony used his free hand to wipe away salt water and tears of amusement.
Miss Carny gave a half-shrug, "I understood only a little but something about the mirth love overcoming darkness, and either he said evil fish or sea monsters." It was Anthony's turn to snort with amusement just as he felt Miss Carney sit up straighter in his arms, "That's the Spirit." Anthony looked up and saw the lights of their trimaran. "It seems these men are all romantics after all."
"The best men are, Miss Carney." Anthony momentarily tightened his grip around her waist, holding her closer in camaraderie. "That was clever thinking, your story back there. I apologize if I seemed to doubt you."
Miss Carney shook her head, slow about pulling her legs from the comforting warmth of his lap, "I am used to the doubt, Mister Bridgeton. Just as I am used to judgment and misunderstandings. But thank you for the apology."
The guards called for a ladder to be lowered for their ascent. After working through the fabricated story with further miming and awkward hand-holding in front of the crew and guards, the guards left after blessing the star-crossed lovers. While the majority of the crew were mercifully asleep, Mister Morris and Captain Alexanderson were the ones left on deck with Anthony and Miss Carney at the guard's departure.
"It seems you've had quite the adventure," Captain Alexanderson broke the silence first, watching as Mister Morris draped his coat over Miss Carney's shoulders in a vain effort to preserve her modesty and fight the chill of the evening, "I'll see if Mister Chauncey has anything quick and easy to send to your quarters as a repast. Can't have either of you catching ill and endangering the rest of the crew."
Mister Morris looked ready to escort Miss Carney, but Anthony shook his head and stepped closer, reaching for Miss Carney's elbow, "I can escort Miss Carney to her quarters."
If the man found his offer curious, he did a damn good job of hiding it, only sparing Miss Carney a look before nodding to Anthony and stepping back to let them both pass. It was Miss Carney who stared at Anthony as if he had two heads once he lightly took her elbow and led her across the deck, earning a feigned look of annoyance from Anthony once they reached the doorway leading down to their quarters.
"What now, Miss Carney? Am I not allowed to escort you to your quarters after you so ingeniously saved my life?"
"You ARE allowed to do many things, Mister Bridgerton." She waited until he opened the door before she added, "Including calling me Ellen." Anthony raised his eyebrows, and she laughed in response. "As you said, we just escaped death; I think we have earned the right to speak to one another as friends."
"Miss Carney, I do not-"
Instead of moving to go down the stairs, Miss Carney moved closer, causing Anthony to step back, startled when he felt the hard wood of the door at his back. She made no move to touch him but again studied him with the same intensity as she had back on the shoreline when she'd determined how to respond to his comment on retreat. A few wisps of dark hair were pressed against the bronze skin of her forehead, the deck torchlight dancing in the dark hues of her gaze. Anthony recalled how she'd looked like the sun itself earlier in the marketplace, just as he now felt she looked like an aquatic sprite come onboard to tease him.
"Ellen," her voice had dipped lower in pitch and tone when she next spoke, "please, call me Ellen." She patted a hand on his chest before shifting back into a more acceptable distance and added, "At least when we are alone. I would like to think all my efforts earned me some sort of reward, and a deepened sense of friendship with you is reward enough."
Anthony was stunned by her candor. He noted how she looked over her shoulder toward Mister Morris, giving the man a nod before leading the way down the stairs, only pausing halfway to ensure Anthony followed. Anthony remained silent until they came to their adjacent doors, one leading to his quarters and the other to hers. Wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, Anthony knew he was hovering, but he also noted she was doing the same.
"Very well," his words gathered her attention back to himself, and Anthony felt himself smile when he caught her gaze, "Ellen. Though I cannot say, anyone has ever equated friendship with me as a type of reward."
Her laughter filled the corridor, broadening his smile, "I'm sure they would describe it more akin to torture." Her words, spoken in jest, extracted a burst of laughter from Anthony. It surprised him how much he'd laughed this evening despite the direness of events and the outrageous nature of how they stood alone, soaking wet and half-naked in the darkened corridor of the ship. "Either way, Anthony," he felt something in his heart tug as she said his name, deepening the warm glow he felt in his belly, "how about we share our repast together when Chauncey brings it? It would make his life easier, delivering it to one room versus two. And I now have a distinct urge to determine how good you are with cards."
Anthony's eyebrows rose in amused surprise, but despite knowing how his mother and society would perceive such an offer, he accepted it at surface level and adjourned to his quarters to clean up. He was halfway through the sponge bath when he realized he hadn't laughed this much since Kate's death, and his heart clenched at the reminder of his continued living despite her passing.