I Kissed an Earl: Pennyroyal Green Series by Julie Anne Long Page A

head swiveled, too, and she had no intention of doing any work. Lavay, spine immediately straight, bowed crisply.
    She didn’t think for an instant the earl cared very much how well she slept.
    “I slept well, thank you for asking. Did…you?” she couldn’t resist adding cheekily. He frowned repressively. He looked none the worse for his night in the vole hole; he was flawlessly groomed, bright-eyed, tight-jawed. He needed a shave. The shadow of whiskers suited him. Made his eyes bluer, somehow. Like windows out onto the ocean. He glanced a question at the domed platter of food.
    “Lord Lavay was gentleman enough to bring a breakfast to me.”
    “He certainly is a gentleman,” the earl agreed, in a tone that implied she’d instead called Lavay a “son of a bitch” and he quite concurred. “Lavay, you have duties to see to.” His crisp captain’s intonation made it clear that Miss Redmond fell distinctly into the category of
    “pleasures.”
    “Of course, sir. I simply thought to relieve you of the burden of feeding our guest.”
    An interesting, infinitesimal pause followed. The two men regarded each other evenly. Lavay was about the same height as the earl, but he hadn’t the earl’s air of arrogance and impatience, which was why in part he seemed to take up more than his fair share of air. The ship gave a sway, sending the soap sliding gracefully out from under the bed. It came to rest at the earl’s feet, as if eager to join the conversation. He stared down at it. Clearly bemused. He bent to pick it up. Hefted it in his hand. Then stared at Violet, eyebrows arched sardonically.
    She gave him wide-eyed innocence.
    “She’s not a guest, Mr. Lavay. She’s an invader as surely as a pirate or a termite, and we shall relieve ourselves of the burden, as you say, of her soon enough.”
    Good heavens. This sounded ominous. Perhaps he’d decided to cast her overboard, anyway, thanks to an unpleasant night’s sleep.
    Another silence, during which expressions remained impassive but she sensed Lavay was somewhat surprised. She waited breathlessly to see if he would step gallantly into the breach.
    “A…termite?” The traitor was clearly amused.
    Flint’s mood, however, matched his name. “We shall of course extend to Miss Redmond all courtesy and respect due her station for the duration of her stay, which will be until we reach the next port. Which means two days, if the wind remains fair. I trust those are your rations, Mr. Lavay, you’ve donated to her breakfast?”
    Said with almost no inflection. But the abrupt silence was the sound of Lavay’s surprise. She sensed Flint had meant a jab, though she didn’t fully understand why.
    “I took up a collection from among the crew,” Mr. Lavay volunteered smoothly. “It’s a combination, shall we say, of everyone’s morning rations.”
    This was likely a lie, but Violet admired it immensely, and smiled at Lavay encouragingly.
    “We do not issue rations in fractions. We’ll deduct her breakfast from your rations,” the earl said briskly. As if solving a problem of interest to everyone. Violet had the curious sensation that entire portions of the conversation were somehow magically being held out of her earshot via steely male stares and shared personal history.
    “Perhaps you need to take a double portion of rations this morning, Captain Flint, as your mood calls to mind a hibernating bear awakened well before spring.”
    Said with that smooth, exquisite politeness, but barbed all around as chestnut pods. Surprisingly, only a short silence followed. The earl didn’t immediately challenge Lavay to a duel.
    “Thank you for your suggestion, Mr. Lavay. I shall take it under advisement,” he said surprisingly easily. “Please meet me on the foredeck at half past the hour to discuss our supply circumstances and the charts. You will excuse me, as I now need a word with our…guest.”
    Captains, it was to be expected, always had the last word. Not to