The Captain's Beloved

33 - Titles that Lead to Trouble

I was beginning to regret my choice to accept that second serving of mead as the music seemed to grow louder, and I took a long draw off my goblet. The bold flavour of mint helped clear my head a wee bit. At least, that is what I told myself as Duncan stared at me. More specifically, at my neck.

"I wonder, Rose. Are you still enjoying the special gift I put in your care back on the navy ship? If there is any time to show off such a splendid piece, it would be at an event such as this."

The question I prayed he would not ask had me stiffening in my seat. While I considered my answer, I finished the rest of my tea, eyeing Jules's goblet as I smiled at Duncan. "I did not wish to wear the piece here because I feared it would attract too much attention."

"Too much? If you are referring to the ambassador's love for fine jewels, I assure you, he would do nothing but compliment you on your taste. Or your taste in friends who gift you with such finery."

He smiled but there was nothing about it that reassured me. In fact, I could not be sure he wore a smile as the scarves appeared to sway into my field of vision, and a dull buzz started up in the back of my head. This was not the time for a nervous headache.

My shoulder brushed against Jules's arm, and he turned to offer me a searching look. "Are you feeling alright, Rose?"

His words blended with the buzz, but I managed to offer an answer. "I think the mead I drank earlier has finally begun to cloud my thoughts."

"You drank mead earlier? With whom? Your father?"

"Yes. And the Duke of Montrose. He insisted."

"So, you have met the Duke of Montrose?" Duncan said. "I have heard he is a jackass of the finest order." His demeanor switched from falsely genteel to openly aggressive, and I determined right then that I was ready to leave whether or not it was polite.

"We only just made acquaintance." Those were the only words I could manage as the room began to spin like a child's wooden top. The feeling was nothing like I had experienced before, but I had heard tales of others who indulged in far too much and found themselves face down in the street. I turned to Jules, attempting to keep his face in focus as my stomach rolled over, considering the strange food I had given it. "Jules, I think I may be sick."

Odette climbed off the divan, although she looked more like a colourful blur. "I will take you to the embassy's private bath, Rose."

"I will do it," Jules said as he helped me up. "Just show me the way."

The next few moments came at me like a parade of print caricatures and nonsensical images. I only managed to focus on Odette's voice as she helped me into the room she claimed to be the bath, and was forced to trust her as I dropped to my knees beside the tub, vomiting into it with extreme force.

"Rose..."

I heard Jules's voice at my shoulder, and I mustered all my strength to ask that he leave me to be sick in private. When I heard the door close, I continued to empty my guts into the embassy's fine claw-foot tub until the sound of fading music and voices serenaded me to the floor, and I lost all my strength, and the room went dark, and silence followed.

~     ~     ~

The first thing to hit me when I regained consciousness was the smell of urine and opium. I counted it a miracle that I did not immediately vomit. Not unequally disturbing was the feeling that someone had bashed my head in with an oar.

It took another few seconds to realize I was no longer in the private bath of the Algerian embassy. Based on the constant back and forth movement beneath me, and the repetitive slosh of water against the walls, I deduced that my person had been transferred to a ship, likely moored somewhere on the Thames.