Winds of Folly by Seth Hunter Page B

probably not be diplomatic to state as much.
    â€˜Well, what would you
like
to do?’ He caught the Signora’s eye. ‘I mean, I am sure you will find sufficient to amuse your … I appreciate there is no opera house but …’ He then recalled that the opera house in Leghorn was where the initial introductions were made between officers of His Majesty’s Navy and ladies of the Signora’s persuasion, and felt himself beginning to blush. ‘And though I am not myself familiar with the port, I am assured the people there are friendly and hospitable …’
    The Signora gazed at him in unfeigned astonishment. ‘They are Corsi,’ she pointed out.
    â€˜Indeed. But the Corsicans are now subjects of King George …’
    â€˜The men they cut your throat, the women they rob a blind beggar. And the ’ores they fuck a dog for a
denaro
.’
    â€˜I see.’ Nathan was briefly taken aback by this insight. He considered several responses but rejected them as inappropriate. ‘But I was informed that you were most anxious to be transported there.’
    She shook her dark curls in vigorous denial. ‘Only we wish to leave Livorno. So the French they do not cut off our ’eads.’
    Nathan felt obliged to point out that the French, though continuing intolerable in many regards, had become less sanguine of late, at least in the matter of decapitation.
    â€˜That is not what I ’ave ’eard,’ the Signora muttered darkly. ‘The
Commodoro
’e say the French they round up the ’ores and cut off their ’eads.’
    â€˜Did he? Did he, indeed?’ Nelson, he was aware, nursed a passionate loathing of all things Gallic. He got it from his mother, it was said. But it was by no means unusual among a certain class of English gentleman.
    â€˜Is not true?’
    â€˜Well, it is true that in the time of Robespierre and the Terror a number of women of a certain – status – suffered a certain—’
    â€˜They cut off their ’eads.’
    â€˜Unfortunately.’
    â€˜They cut off the ’ead of Marie Antoinette.’
    â€˜Yes, but—’
    â€˜And all the other ’ores.’
    â€˜Well, actually Marie Antoinette …’ Nathan gave up. Why was he defending the French, for pity’s sake? Because he had a hint of French blood in his veins? ‘Well, certainly you will be safer in San Fiorenzo,’ he agreed.
    But she was shaking her head more firmly than ever.
    â€˜But where else would you go?’ he enquired helplessly.
    â€˜We go to Genova,’ she said firmly.
    â€˜Genoa? But … Genoa is closed to the British Navy.’
    â€˜But not to us.’
    â€˜No, but …’ Nathan recalled that the Signora’s mother lived in Genoa and that the Commodore used often to set her down there. There were rumours that he used her as a spy. For a moment Nathan was tempted, but it was impossible. ‘I cannot take you to Genoa,’ he said.
    â€˜Why not you take us to Genova?’
    â€˜Because I have my orders to take you to San Fiorenzo.’ ‘Who give you these orders?’
    â€˜Well, Commodore Nelson for one, and—’
    â€˜I speak with the
Commodoro
,’ she declared with satisfaction.
    â€˜I am afraid the
Commodoro
– the Commodore – has remained at Leghorn. That is to say,
off
Leghorn. In the flagship.’
    â€˜Then we stay ’ere. With you.’
    Nathan returned her look of stubborn obstinacy with one ofdespair. ‘Signora, this is a ship-of-war. We may be required to go into battle at any time and—’
    â€˜So we go into the battle with you.’
    â€˜No, really, that is not—’
    â€˜My friends, they do anything for the
Capitano
.’ Her voice and expression softened. She smiled seductively at him. Nathan felt himself blushing. ‘They say the
Capitano
’e save them from the French, ’e give