an uncomfortable, if aesthetically appealing and envy-inducing cravat.
Colin supposed he was grateful for that silence.
“So the plan is to go to the London Dockyards and board a ship to Cornwall?” Niles asked.
Colin gave his best patient nod, the avuncular sort practiced by the kindest tutors at Harrow, the ones who’d happily got it into their minds that the best way to impart a love of knowledge in students was by not wielding rulers and whips.
Perhaps Niles’ strengths were really best confined to mending and the occasional fashion advice.
“We’ll be out on the open sea soon.”
“How nice.” Niles’s voice wobbled, and Colin gazed at his valet sharply.
“You have been on the water before?”
Niles nodded. “I had an uncle who used to take us out on rowing boats.” Niles’s face turned a curious shade of gray. “He seemed to think we would find it enjoyable.”
“Well, a ship is far more stable than a rowing boat,” Colin said. He decided not to add that the waters that a ship sailed in were likely to be far rougher than anything a rowboat was bound to reach. This was after all a time for optimism. They’d managed to leave the townhouse with a collection of clothes, a matter Niles insisted was of the utmost importance, as well as the papers. Sandridge’s new bride’s father would be much happier soon. His whole family would be.
“We’re doing a very good thing,” Colin said. “Sandridge didn’t expect the papers yet. He’ll be so pleased to have them.”
“How splendid.” Niles stretched a forced smile on his face.
The carriage jerked, and the carefully manicured townhouses, adorned with tasteful Grecian flourishes and the occasional floral and plant embellishment, disappeared. The curricles and barouches, driven by valiant drivers determined to pretend their carriages withstood any combination of dreck English weather and occupants might throw at them, had also disappeared. Evidently, their owners were content to round the nicer sections of Mayfair and Kensington, listing the superiority of their vehicles without ever truly testing them.
The streets widened, a concession to the heavy wagons that streamed from the docks. The buildings were functional, designed more for their ability to store corn and grain than any aesthetic purpose.
A pungent scent filled the air, perhaps from the waters themselves. Shouts and orders streamed into the carriage, uttered by the sort of brusque types his nannies had always warned him to stay far away from. They were less intimidating now that Colin had grown, though Colin suddenly wished his coachman had been less fastidious in maintaining the carriage. Perhaps the wheels didn’t need to be quite so freshly painted, perhaps the sides did not require such care in polishing, and perhaps the gilded crest, a compilation of lions and unicorns, did not need to sparkle with such magnificence.
Finally, the coach stopped before the Thames.
“Let’s go, Niles.” Colin flung the coach door open and scrambled out.
Niles moved from the carriage more gingerly, clasping hold of the bars, and gazing firmly at the thin set of stairs that led from the coach door, as if to prepare lest the steps suddenly collapsed before him.
“Don’t worry, Niles,” Colin said lightly. “There will be more room on the ship.”
He turned his attention to the large ships that crowded the docklands. Workers scrambled to carry cargo off some of the ships. People shouted and pushed together, each seeming to be headed for a different ship.
Colin headed toward the nearest ship, conscious of Niles behind him, hauling the luggage.
A carriage rumbled quickly over the cobblestones, undeterred by the crowds of sailors, passengers, and workers.
“Carriages shouldn’t speed,” Niles grumbled. “Someone could get hurt.”
A few passers-by yelled at the coach driver, adding various obscenities to underline their conviction, and Colin turned his attention to finding the ship.
Colin approached a sailor standing in a guardlike capacity at the gangway of a ship. “Where’s the ship to Cornwall?”
“There’s no ship to Cornwall today,” the man said.
Oh.
“That’s unfortunate.”
The sailor eyed him oddly. “This is December. Ain’t many people who want to go to Cornwall now.”
“Cornwall is nice at any time,” Colin said defensively.
The sailor raised his eyebrows. “You must not have traveled much.”
“Where does this ship go?” Niles asked.
“Guernsey.”
“Ah.” Colin frowned.
That wouldn’t do. Guernsey was part of the Channel Islands. It was insignificant and nowhere near any civilization. Certainly, France hardly counted after what they’d done in their revolution. Colin suspected visiting an island in December was not an improvement upon visiting Cornwall in December. The wind would bluster with even more effort, as if filled with aggression