He had the same heavy-lidded eyes I remembered. It was the coolness in his expression I didn’t recognize. I noticed a bump on the bridge of his nose where it appeared to have been broken. I knew in my gut I’d been there when it’d happened. His limp, too, surely had resulted from that horrible day on the Ambrosia.

“I hope he is able to persuade you, Mr. Latimer,” Charlotte replied.

“My uncle does not persuade as much as pass sentence, Miss Winters. I believe if I refused him, he’d have me thrown into irons.”

Everyone laughed, but given where my mind had wandered, I suddenly saw him slumped on the deck, bleeding and motionless. I took a sip of my wine, forcing it past the claw in my throat.

“This is a fine little raft you have, Mr. Latimer,” André said. “Seems a waste to use such a beauty for transporting furniture and wine. We ought to give you a letter of marque and turn you into a privateer.”

“Nay, Major,” Asa replied. “There is enough excitement on the high seas for me as it is. I don’t mind hauling cargo—especially if it is good wine.”

André raised his glass. “C’est délicieux.”

I almost shook my head. Asa had been driven by ideals once. Not profit. Maybe that day on the Ambrosia’s deck, I’d seen the last of Asa Lane.

“I am fond of the name you’ve given her, Mr. Latimer,” Charlotte said, smiling prettily. Was she flirting with him? “I hope she lives up to it.”

“Not every ship does,” Duncan said. “A Yankee privateer seized our Fortune last week near Boston—which strikes me as most unfortunate.”

Charlotte laughed. “What was the privateer named? Fortune Hunter?”

“No, it was something else that now escapes me. I only remember it was one of the deadly sins.”

“Vainglory?” Charlotte guessed. “Greed?”

“Sloth?” André offered, to laughs from all.

Asa’s shoulders lifted with a slight shrug. “To be honest, I think Wrath would make a fine name for a privateer.”

My silence would soon get me noticed, so I roused myself and said, “Was it called Envy?”

Duncan smiled. “Yes—that’s it. Envy captured Fortune. Rather a predictable little story, isn’t it?”

“More worrisome than predictable,” Charlotte said. “Now I fear all our merchant ships will be captured by Envy.”

“Banish the concern from your mind, Miss Winters,” André said. “We have it well in hand. Three of our best warships, in fact, sail this week to help secure the waters around Boston.”

My fingertips began to tingle; I was close to something good. “I hope they’re named Courage, Resilience, and Fortitude,” I said, casting for more.

“They are the Romulus, Daphni, and Delaware,” André replied, “but I assure you they will fare well in spite of their uninspired monikers.”