Dr. Stewart approached. “Captain, the men be ready for ye to pronounce sentence.”

Arabella swung to him. “Doctor, you mustn’t allow this.”

He shook his head. “ ’Tis the way o’ it, lass.”

She pushed through the crowd toward the mast. The crewmen made way for her. The youth stood lashed about both wrists to the yardarms to either side of the mast. His ribs poked out.

Three guineas. A fortune for a common sailor. Enough to feed his family for a lifetime.

“Look at him, Doctor,” she said. “He is skin and bones.”

The Scot frowned. “Lass—”

“He stole nothing,” she said. “I gave them to him. I gave them to him!” she shouted.

The sailors went silent amidst the clatter of rigging in the wind and the creak of planks and the ever present whoosh of the ocean.

“If you will flog anyone today, Captain,” she said, “I am afraid it must be me. I discovered a rat in my cabin and I borrowed the bottle of arsenic from Dr. Stewart’s cabinet to dose it so that it will not visit me again tonight. This sailor was helping me with the task. And—” She faltered.

Captain Andrew’s knuckles were white around the hilt of his sword.

“And I gave him my ring in thanks,” she said firmly. “I—I gave it to him as a gift. I am . . . terrified of rats, you see.”

Not a man aboard made a sound.

“Lass—”

“It is true, Dr. Stewart.” She pivoted to him. “I gave it to him. So he did not in fact steal anything. Captain, you must let him free now.”

Slowly, with deliberate movements, Captain Andrew sheathed his sword and walked toward her. “You gave him both the bottle and ring?”

“I did. I— Yes.” She trembled. The wind whipped through the flimsy skirt of her chemise below the concealing coat. She felt undressed and out of control, as always with him.

“What do you say to this, Doctor?” he said without removing his attention from her. “Shall I flog the little governess for stealing poison from your infirmary to treat a miscreant rodent?”

She gulped over her alarm. He would not.

“Cap’n, I admit, I maself gave the lass the poison for the rat,” the doctor said.

She sucked in breath.

The captain nodded. “Gentlemen,” he said, still watching her. “Release the prisoner. Our guest has an item of value that she must return to him.”

Reluctantly the sailors untied their captive and shoved him toward her. Head hanging, he shook like the rattling rigging. In his sunken eyes fear and uncomprehending gratitude warred.

Her throat closing, Arabella reached into her pocket for the ring.

“Naw, miss,” the youth rasped. “I can’t take it, now I think on it.” His words came quickly. “My ma, she wouldn’t like me taking gifts from a lady. She’d think she owed her life to you and she’d never let me hear the end of it.” He backed away a step.

“Mr. Church,” the captain called to his lieutenant. “Escort Mr. Mundy to the brig, if you will. And give him his dinner ration now. No one—not even those saved from a whipping by heavenly intervention—goes hungry aboard this ship.”

The lieutenant grasped the youth’s arm and led him away. Arabella’s fingers clamped around the ring in her pocket.

The doctor came to her side. “Ye’ve done a fine charity, lass. Bless ye.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Miss Caulfield.” The captain strode toward the stairway. “Do attend me in my day cabin, if you will. I have a matter I should like to discuss with you in private.”

Dr. Stewart shook his head then turned to the gaping crewmen. “Back to work,” he ordered. “All o’ ye nou.”

The day was warming, the sun poking through wispy clouds. But Arabella shivered as she went to the captain’s cabin.

He stood with his back to the door, facing the open window. On the sea beyond, a huge ship flew the flag of England. His stance was rigid, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“You would not have flogged me,” she said.

He turned about. “Wouldn’t I have? How do you know? I thought you said you knew nothing of me.”

“I could not allow him to be punished for my foolishness.”

“Foolishness?” He moved toward her. “Was it upon a whimsical order from you, duchess, that he removed the poison from Dr. Stewart’s medicine cabinet?”

“Do not call me that.”

“Why not? You behave as one, mismanaging justice according to your wishes.”

“I could not—”

“Are you his confederate?”

Her eyes flew wide. “No. No, of course not.”

“How did you know?” He was angry, emerald flashing in his eye, but controlled, restrained. The night before she’d sensed his restraint with her too. “How did you know he intended theft? Harm to another? Even my quartermaster who is an excellent judge of men had no idea. How did you know he was lying when he asked the doctor for medicine?”

“I . . .” He would not understand. The Reverend never had.

“You?”

“I can read people.”

“You can read people?”

“I can read people I encounter.” Except him.

His eye narrowed. “You can read a man’s thoughts?”

“No. It’s not like that. I can sense feelings—desires and fears—and I guess at the reasons for them. Usually . . .”

“Usually?”

“Usually I am correct. It is what makes my services so sought after in society. It is very useful when seeking status or connections to know the unspoken wishes of others.”

He took another step toward her. “You do this with everyone?”

“Only if I wish to.”

“Do you wish to read me?” It was not an idle curiosity. But there was no desire in his gaze now, no teasing, only that intensity that had frightened her in the tavern in Plymouth.

She willed her feet not to retreat. “Yes.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“And what have you discovered of my desires, little duchess?”

“Nothing.”

“What prevents you from making the attempt?” He moved close. “Fear?”

“I have tried.” She should not tell him. “I failed. I don’t understand you.”

“Convenient,” he said.

“Not at all.”

He did not speak. She could no longer meet his gaze.

“What will you do now?” she finally said.

“Make you walk the plank, of course.”

Her eyes shot up. His face was hard but the anger had gone.

Her lungs filled. “Of course.”

“Miss Caulfield, do not interfere again with the justice that I mete out, do you understand?”

She swallowed over her relief and nodded. “I understand.”

He studied her face. “What did he intend to do with the arsenic?”

He believed her. He believed that she could read people. Or he believed her to be the thief’s accomplice.

“I don’t know.”

“No?”

“I told you, I am not a mind reader. I only . . .”

“Only?”

“Feel. I feel the emotions of others, Captain, because I have none inside myself to stand in the way.”

He stared at her. “A remarkably candid admission, especially from a woman who claimed minutes ago that a man’s punishment would be a burden upon her soul.”

Her heart beat too swiftly. “What will you do with him?”

“Remand him to the navy.”

“That ship—”

“A naval vessel. Its captain will make good use of him. The lad will not realize how fortunate he has been for many years, I suspect. But eventually he will.”

“You will let him go free?”

“Have you ever rowed in the galley of a hundred and twenty-two gun frigate, Miss Caulfield? It’s hardly freedom.”

“But, he is a thief.”

He lifted a brow. “Now you wish to see him flogged? Little governess, do make up your mind.”

“Why did you spare him? Everyone knew I invented my story.”

“And dragged the good doctor into it,” he said ruefully. “Clever witch.”

“Witch?”

“Another word came to mind, actually. I edited it before speaking.”

One moment in anger, the next teasing. “You are a strange man, Captain Andrew.”