The air was cooling off as they returned to stand on either side of Mrs. Smith. Grayson had put his jacket back on, but he could feel sweat from the exertion running down his brow.
“You see?” Zed said with a hint of cockiness. He had a towel that he was using to wipe his forehead. “It’s less about winning and losing, and more about making sure that someone hears your frustrations. The alternative is to keep all those feelings pent up. Nobody wants that.”
That, Grayson was sure, was a dig at him. Something was going on. Not just Zed’s remarks. Not just the insistence he spend time at home—none of those were new. No, this felt like an alteration in his internal weather. There was a wind picking up, something hot and dry, and winds heralded change. Ever since Fuzhou, ever since he’d admitted that Amelia reminded him of Noah, ever since that afternoon with Zed in the wine shop…
He could feel it, feel the change of pressure in his inner ears as if a real storm were coming.
He didn’t have time for any of this. In reality, there was no storm. Just humidity and a few scattered clouds and Mrs. Smith pondering Zed’s words, her mouth scrunched up.
Amelia glanced at Grayson, then back at Zed. “You said that the captain chooses the, um, the method of Disoccupation?”
“Of course.”
“What is it on Captain Hunter’s ship? We’re going to his ship next, aren’t we?”
“Ah.” Zed stopped midswipe. “You’ll be taking the Celerity. That’s Grayson’s ship in the sense that he owns it. But it’s captained by Bell, and his Disoccupation is rather patchwork.”
She looked over at Grayson.
“He does all sorts of things,” Grayson explained. “Sometimes it’s quoits. Sometimes it’s other sorts of tossing games. It depends upon the sea and everyone’s inclination.”
“Quoits!” Her eyes grew wide. “Really? Quoits?”
“Is something wrong with quoits?”
“No. I just thought, after wrestling, wouldn’t it be something more, um. More?”
“More what?” He made himself hold her gaze, made the moment stretch out as if nothing were bothering him. “Are you trying to imply something about quoits?”
“Nothing at all. I just want to know what you do on your ship.”
Why did that make him think of a storm again? It was just words from her. Just curiosity, and she pointed that in every possible direction.
Zed snorted. “His ship used to be the Victory, if you can call that thing a ship instead of a lumbering beast. But that’s now captained by Ellis, although the Disoccupation hasn’t changed.”
“Don’t listen to Zed. The Victory is a beauty of a lumbering beast. You should see her cargo hold.”
“What is the Disoccupation aboard the Victory?” Mrs. Smith turned to him, frowning. “I have suspicions. You’re very competitive.”
Zed laughed. “You’re not wrong on that.”
“Something competitive you can do aboard ship… Fencing?”
He couldn’t help himself. He let out a laugh. “You think I’m a fencer!”
“It was just an idea!”
“A very wrong idea.”
“Then maybe it’s chess.” The back-and-forth of their conversation felt like the first drops of rain.
“God no. I haven’t the patience for that.”
“Very well. I give up.”
“Music,” Grayson said.
She just looked at him. “Competitive music?”
“Just music.” Grayson shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be competitive.”
She hadn’t stopped her inquiry. “So do you play an instrument? Do you sing?”
“Oh God,” Zed muttered. “Let me save you from hearing him boast. He plays the violin. He’s very good.”
“Nobody’s truly good at violin in summer on the South China Sea,” Grayson said. “The humidity is hell on the instrument. The rosin sticks to the bow like nobody’s business, and that makes it stick to the strings a little too much.”
“You see?” Zed gave a disgusted shake of his head. “He’s bloody excellent.”
Mrs. Smith was nodding along. “I was dubious until he said that bit about rosin. Anyone who is that picky is definitely good.” She turned to contemplate Grayson for a moment, her eyes measuring him. “Do you play regularly?”
“As much as I can.” He shrugged. “The violin is meant to be played regularly. The instrument sounds better if it is.”
“Might I hear?”
“If you’re aboard the Victory?” He gave her a grin. He didn’t feel it. “Of course. Every day.” It was a teasing thing to say; she was going to spend the next year in Shanghai, and the Victory couldn’t even come close to that shallow harbor. “Of course. Otherwise, if you happen to be around when I play, I can’t stop you from listening.”
It was just as well he was leaving her. There was a storm on the horizon, and he didn’t want to know what would happen when it broke.
Chapter Eleven
The air in Victoria Harbor was hot and heavy. Amelia felt like a bedraggled lump of fabric bound together in a heavy corset and deposited on her brother’s doorstep. Nonetheless, here she was.
Leland stood in his doorway, staring at her in shock. It had been over a year since she’d seen him, and yet everything about her brother seemed familiar, oh so familiar. His beard was a bit bushier, but his eyes were just as bright and his smile as welcoming as it had ever been.
He took a step and wrapped his arms around her. “Amelia!”
Leland smelled like himself—like soap and the sea. The scent was viscerally comforting, a reminder that this was her brother and he loved her.
“You’re here in Hong Kong,” he muttered into her shoulder. “Please tell me this is not the first part of your journey out to marry that dreadful Mr. Flappert.”
She laughed. “How do you know that he’s dreadful? You haven’t met him.”
Leland pulled back from her and folded his arms, looking at her darkly. He was taller than her by two inches, which made him not very tall at all; his hair was a bright ginger, and she was so used to seeing him smiling that when he scowled, the expression made his face look odd and unnatural.
“You haven’t met him either,” he groused. “A man who cannot meet his wife before marriage? He’s absolutely dreadful. I’m sure of it. I will tie you up and hide you from him if I must.”
“Will you?” she asked, her head tilted. “Really?” It was odd to hear Leland advocate such a thing. He had always been the gentlest of creatures.
He deflated. “No, of course I would not.” He shook a finger at her. “But I would do my best to construct an extremely sound argument in whatever time we have remaining.”
She smiled. “Lucky for you then. I’ve accepted employment with Captain Hunter.”
“Ah.” He grinned. “Excellent. I’m glad.” He looked out over the harbor. “How long are you here? Is he having you stay in Hong Kong?”
“The office for the Chinese telegraph division is in Shanghai.”