The lady's agile fingers glided gracefully over the harpsichord keys, the notes of Couperin's Passacaille in C major dancing from the graceful instrument, alternately playful and laughing in a way that its composer had never imagined nor intended. The Admiral Sir Greene might very well be the only man in this grand parlor to understand the strangely light, lilting air to what should otherwise be a more sober, serious tune.

But, as always, the blind man sat quietly in the high-back walnut chair, both hands wrapped over the top of his cane perched between his legs, one gnarled finger swaying to the strangely lively beat with that ever-present enigmatic smile.

Yes, it was Miss Antoinette Greene who sat primly on that sumptuously upholstered bench, changed from her verdant morning silks to a rose pink gown that hung fetchingly off her bronzed shoulders, the dusted lightly with a pearlescent powder. The crown of her ebony hair was pulled back and plaited with precious strings of alternating pink and ivory pearls, while the long shining curls cascaded down her back, undulating serpent coils, a mesmerizing sight as the gentlewoman played.

But it was Antonia who danced in the music she played. It was the rogue's wide smile that lit the room near as bright as the sunlight streaming into through the tall windows of the elegant, rosewood paneled parlor. And if that smile fell upon Commander Robert Murray, it was all for the better of course. After all, if she must leave the true source of her bliss, veiled in a joy that made her near giddy as a virginal naif? Then let both truth and artifice serve the duties she performed during landfall, unheralded and unknown to the last - even to the captain she served and loved.

They had decided at the very last moment, to bring the entirety of the officers' contingent, their wives and companions and children to Nathaniel's estate rather than try to crowd all into Robert Murray's officer's quarters. And in truth it became a surprisingly merry affair, carriages and horses alike streaming toward the Greene estate in a parade of smiling faces, men stealing moments from their duties for this unexpected, unscheduled outing away from the teaming Port Royal. 

The officers' children played on the vast manicured lawns, screams of laughter and shrill shrieks punctuating various games of blind man's bluff and tag and hide-and-seek. The servants of the Greene estate bustled as they hadn't in many a year - though gladly, swiftly preparing food and drink, setting tables and chairs for their unexpected guests, enjoying to the last the sweetly contented smile of the kind, decent elderly man they all loved dearly, to a man.

At least two separate games of cribbage had begun, and a small, intent crowd had gathered about the two lieutenants deeply invested in a game of chess beside the grand marble fireplace. 

The rogue's smile widened as she caught Robert's dark-eyed gaze, all rapt attention for the lovely young gentlewoman as she played. Yes, if these men were here? Then they could not be at the docks, curious about the unprecedented preparations of the [i]Skate[/i]'s crew. Here, they could not be too troublingly vigilant concerning any 'shortcuts' her crew might deem necessary in their haste, nor concern themselves with rumors of debt shares and exorbitant credit extended to the privateer captain Lightfoot, or complaints on a run of certain valuable supplies.

And there would only be one more evening to devote to distractions, to keep the erstwhile, dutiful eyes of the Fort Charles garrison riveted elsewhere - anywhere really - but toward the berth of the [i]Dusk Skate[/i]. An evening, and a day - 

Antonia blinked, the smile faltering on her wide lips as her fingers seemed to trip over the strangest chord - though she recovered in an instant. She had forgotten. Forgotten [i]utterly[/i] in the high emotion of discovering Thomas embracing the First Mate, his pursuit and his declaration to her - and then Cooper's unspeakable treachery. Forgotten to speak with Thomas or Mademoiselle Beauchamp, or even warn off the helmsman herself from treating that mischievous invitation as anything like 'genuine.'

Jax's visage loomed in her mind's eye, and it was all the rogue could do to keep the groan of frustration trapped right behind that lovely smile. No amount of gratitude for Thomas' life could make her glad to see the helmsman's grinning face this evening, at the party at Fort Charles.

No. 

[i]No.[/i] He would not [i]dare[/i]...