Within fifteen minutes, Captain Carstairs was carrying Lyon out of the inn. Rollo was seeing to their trunks. Diana, who had no money, had gone without a thought to Lyon's stash and removed the required payment for the innkeeper.
Diana, who had sailed all her life, was impressed with the Seawitch, a sleek, very modern schooner.
"I normally do not take passengers," said Rafael as he assisted Diana down the companionway, "but there's always a first time for everything. Rollo has given over his cabin. It should be comfortable enough for you. Now, you stay here for the moment. I will send in Dr. Blickford."
The cabin was small but not overwhelmingly so. It was larger than the one she'd sailed to England in. The furnishings were few and simple: a narrow bed, a desk and two chairs, and built-in armoire against one wall, a shelf of books, and other nautical odds and ends.
She had no more time to do anything for at that moment a very small, slight man entered the cabin. He was wearing black breeches and a clean white shirt. His hair was grizzled gray, his eyes a bright blue.
"Well, what have we here? My name's Blickford, my lady. Rollo says your husband got in a rollicking fight and received a smash on his head."
"Yes," said Diana, "yes, he did."
"Now, don't you worry, my lady. A fine, strong young man he appears. He'll be himself in no time at all."
With those bracing words, Dr. Blickford forgot Diana and gave his full attention to the unconscious man on the bunk.
Husband!
Diana stared at his gray head. My God, he thinks we're married! As the haze of shock lifted, she realized now that Captain Carstairs and Rollo as well must have believed them husband and wife. Denials were tripping over themselves on the tip of her tongue, but they remained tripping, for Dr. Blickford turned at the moment of their release and said, "As I said, my lady, he will be all right. Quite a bashing he took, a concussion, I fancy. When he comes out of it, we will have to watch him very carefully. You ever do any nursing?"
She nodded. "Yes, on my father's plantation."
He raised a brow.
"Savarol Plantation on Savarol Island."
"I see," he said. He rose and extended his hand. "My name is Stacy Blickford. Blick to my friends."
She gave him her hand. "And I am Diana Sav--- Ashton. Thank you, Doctor."
"Long voyage, my lady. Blick, please."
"Thank you, Blick. And do call me Diana."
The decision was made. She knew in her bones that if she admitted that she and Lyon weren't married, Captain Carstairs would more than likely put them ashore, splendid savior though he was. She couldn't allow it. She told herself that Lyon was very ill and needed Dr. Blickford's care, not some quack who was a drunk. That's what she told herself, very firmly and with ceaseless repetition.
There came a groan from the bed.
Blick turned quickly. "Ah, he's coming about."
If he regains his wits, he will tell them that we aren't married. We will have to return to London.
But Lyon wasn't coming around. The rumbling moan, from deep in his throat, signaled that he was more alive than otherwise, feeling pain, and little more.
To Diana's chagrin, she felt relief that he wasn't as yet regaining his senses. She then felt immense guilt. She started wringing her hands, something she had never done before in her nearly twenty years.
"It's all right, my lady," said Stacy Blickford, gently patting her arm. "He will come about. Ah, here's Neddie with your trunks. This is her ladyship, Neddie. Why don't you stow their trunks over there?"
Neddie grinned, revealing a wide space between his front teeth, ducked his head, and neatly stowed the trunks on the far side of the cabin.
"Now, I shall take my leave. I've got a sick sailor on my hands. I will instruct Neddie to stay close by. When your husband comes around, Neddie will fetch me."
"Thank you, Dr. --- Blick," Diana said.
"My pleasure, and don't worry."
"Easily said," Diana said ruefully.