The Earl's Engagement (Love at Sea Book 1) Page 3

  In the morning, Grace was in good spirits. Over toast and eggs, she chatted happily as Anne pushed her own breakfast around the plate.

  Grace stared at the entrance to the breakfast room.

  “Smile, dearest,” she prompted through clenched teeth as she grinned at Owen. “It’s him or Lord Chusterwood. Win him over with your charm.”

  When Owen reached their table, he greeted the ladies with a grin of his own. “Good morning, and a very good morning it is, too.”

  Grace blotted her mouth with her napkin. “Lord Sedley, what an unexpected pleasure. Alas, I’d agreed to meet with, um, Lady Blackwell in a few minutes, so I hope you’ll excuse me.”

  She stood and bolted from the room.

  Owen chuckled as he sat down. “Was it something I said?”

  Anne forced a smile. “Where is Miss Keeble?”

  “She decided to take breakfast in her room.”

  “Nothing’s amiss, I hope.”

  “She may be a little upset. Until last night, I hadn’t told her about our… previous association.”

  “Our engagement, you mean.”

  Owen nodded. “But, as I told her, that’s in the past. We’ve both found happiness and can be friends now. Good friends. Very good friends. Isn’t that right.”

  It was a statement, not a question.

  “Of course,” she agreed. “The ship is large, but not so large we won’t run into one another, now and then.”

  His eyes lit up. “Exactly. The occasional encounter, now and then, shouldn’t concern anyone else.”

  “Perhaps we can rekindle the close friendship we’ve shared over the years.”

  As waiter placed breakfast in front of Owen, and he attacked it with a knife and fork with an almost unseemly gusto. “Exactly. A close friendship. My words to Miss Keeble, exactly.”

  Anne also resumed eating. “We have a history, and have shared so many good times in the past. I hadn’t realized what my life would be like without you, until we were apart.”

  Well, that part is true, she reminded herself. If my only prospect is Lord Chusterwood, my engagement to Owen is a far better choice.

  Owen reached across the table and took her hand. “Exactly. I hadn’t expected such a warm welcome, and your openness to… well, resume our connection.”

  “Yes, let’s do that.” Anne leaned in. Was it really this easy to reinstate their engagement? And why was her stomach in such a knot?

  Owen squeezed her hand. “I have an extraordinary idea, darling. Let’s forget the dark moments in our past, and build a new future together. A different one. A better one. Our very own future.”

  I should feel overjoyed at his words, but I don’t, she realized. Not even an ounce of relief.

  She blotted her lips with her napkin, hoping to signal the conclusion of their breakfast. If she ate another bite, she might be ill. “I agree. Let’s focus on the things that matter most to us, and let others worry about everything else.”

  Owen tilted his head back and smiled. “Exactly what I was thinking. We belong together, no matter what. Pick up where we left off. It’s practically our destiny.”

  “Destiny,” she agreed, nodding as she pressed her hands to her aching stomach. I think I’m going to be ill, she realized.

  “I’m glad we’re reaching this understanding so quickly.”

  He lifted her hand to his greasy lips. They were cold and fleshy and rather limp. It’s like being kissed by a cold, dead fish, Anne realized. She tugged at her hand, but Owen kept a firm grip on it.

  Had they ever kissed on the lips in the past? Anne couldn’t recall a single instance. Ugh. I hope I’ll get used to this when we’re married.

  Owen seemed to think Anne’s shudder was a positive sign, so he pressed his lips to her hand again, even firmer this time.

  I’d better make sure of this commitment, she decided, before he changes his mind. Or before I lose my nerve. And my breakfast.

  Anne looked directly into his eyes as she pressed forward. “This is such a relief, and I’m sure Michael will understand that things have changed. After all, I barely know him and our courtship had been rushed…”

  Owen seemed confused. But, as he was about to speak, a third person joined the conversation.

  Miss Keeble stared pointedly at Anne’s hand, still in Owen’s firm grasp. Her voice echoed throughout the breakfast room. “Again…? Have you no respect for me or our engagement?”

  Owen dropped Anne’s hand as if it had burned him. “Just good friends, my dear,” he assured her. “Old habits, y’know. And we agreed that we’ve both found happiness, and can have a good, close friendship.”

  Anne blinked. What was he saying? Weren’t they just talking about resuming their engagement?

  Miss Keeble’s voice remained icy. “I’ve warned you before, Owen. Father will not be pleased if I tell him you’re a two-timing oaf and a cheater.”

  “Nellie, dearest, it was nothing. Just two neighbors -”

  “You’ve used that excuse before. Twice last week, as I recall.”

  Owen sputtered, stood up, and put his arm around Miss Keeble. “But dearest…”

  Miss Keeble shoved him away, but as Owen again put his arm around her, she cast a smug look at Anne.

  Anne looked around the breakfast room. They were attracting far too much attention. No, this was not the time or place for him to break his engagement to Miss Keeble.

  Anne stood up. “Think nothing of it. Now I should catch up with Aunt Grace and Lady Blackwood -”

  “Blackwell,” Owen corrected.

  “Yes, umm… Lady Blackwell,” Anne agreed. The room seemed to reel around her.

  Owen smiled. It was a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile, and his voice sounded far too smooth as he said, “We’ll talk again later, I’m sure.”

  “It’s a small ship,” she agreed.

  As she left the room with her head held high, she knew she’d be the subject of shipboard gossip. It was embarrassing.

  Something was about to happen. She could feel it as if it were tangible, and it made her uneasy. She needed fresh air.

  Seeking Prince Charming

  At the top of the stairs, she surveyed the expanse of ocean in front of her, and inhaled deeply. Why do I feel this uneasy?

  In her mind, she reviewed her conversation with Owen. It seemed to go well. They’d agreed to make a fresh start to their relationship. How had Owen described it?

  “A new future together,” she repeated, out loud. She wished she felt happier, saying it.

  She walked across the deck and stood at the rail for some time, studying the vast horizon. This wasn’t the future she’d hoped for.

  Owen had always been… just there. The boy from the estate next door. The annoying kid who had to be the best at everything, even when he wasn’t.

  But since childhood, their families assumed they’d marry. When the announcement appeared in the newspaper, it had been a surprise to Anne. Had Owen ever proposed?

  She remembered the engagement party, and her father reminding her to smile when she danced with Owen. Smiling when he was so drunk he passed out. Smiling as the music stopped, and the crowd gathered around them with looks of sympathy for her. And smiling when she realized he’d fallen flat on his face, in front of her late mother’s portrait. For Anne, that was the ultimate disrespect.

  Oh yes, Anne remembered, bitterly. There were more smiles as the weeks passed. “Smile, dammit,” he’d whisper when people were around. So, she did.

  She smiled when he flaunted his other women in front of her. Smiled when he abandoned her at parties, to go play cards with his friends. And smiled when they left parties together, and he’d vomit on the floor of her carriage.

  There had to be some happy moments in there, somewhere, but – watching whales break the surface of the water, near the horizon – Anne couldn’t think of one.

  When she finally broke off their engagement, all she’d felt was relief. And now… could she go back to false
smiles and pretended happiness?

  “For God and country,” she muttered, and laughed mirthlessly. “Me, marrying Owen, after everything that’s happened.”

  The best thing about this morning had been Miss Keeble. The way she’d looked, and how shrill her voice had been when she accused Owen and shouted, “Again…?”

  For Anne, it had been liberating.

  That was the moment she realized Owen’s cheating was his problem.

  It had nothing to do with her. He cheated on every woman in his life.

  It wasn’t personal, she realized. If she stopped being such a romantic, her life could be so much simpler.

  She felt relief, but also unutterably sad.

  Her life wasn’t a fairy tale. There was no Prince Charming. She would marry Owen, and produce an heir and a spare, as society demanded.

  And then… she couldn’t imagine anything past that.

  She shook her head, trying to banish her bleak mood.

  “Another headache, dearest?”

  Michael’s voice was so startling, she nearly lost her balance.

  “I didn’t hear you,” she explained. Seeing him lifted her spirits.

  He smiled. “The waves can mute almost everything. Perhaps it’s why we sleep so much better, at sea.”

  Anne did not reply. They stood side by side in silence. It seemed comfortable to be next to him. Natural, even.

  His voice was soft and wistful when he finally spoke. “This has become one of my favorite places.”

  She nodded. “Mine, as well.”

  Michael quietly reached for her hand and gave it a slight squeeze.

  Neither of them said anything, but kept staring at the waves.

  His voice was so gentle, she almost didn’t hear the words. “I love watching the ocean.”

  She nodded. “I saw some whales a few minutes ago. At least I think they were whales.”

  “We should ask the captain if we can borrow some binoculars.”

  She smiled and kept her hand in his.

  After several minutes of contented silence, he spoke again. “The wildness of the ocean reminds me of my horses.”

  “You keep horses?”

  He nodded. “At home, we have stables. I’ve always looked forward to mornings with my horses.”

  “Me too,” she agreed. “But where…? Boston has horses and carriages, but except for Boston Common and the Gardens, there’s not much room for morning rides.”

  His color rose slightly as he explained, “Of course. I should explain. My family lives in the country -”

  “Where?”

  He stammered, “Erm… To the west… no, northwest… uh, Concord.”

  “Concord? I believe some distant cousins moved there. Perhaps you know them -”

  He suddenly became very interested in his own shoes. “Erm… no, I meant Lexington, next door to Concord.”

  “Of course.” She nodded, pulling her hand away from his. For an aspiring actor, he’s terrible at lying.

  She’d expected better from Michael, but maybe all men are like this. And what did it matter, anyway? She was going to marry Owen.

  Michael shifted his gaze to his hands, then pushed his fingers through his hair and sighed.

  Anne stared at the horizon again. The whales were gone. She had nothing to say.

  After several uncomfortable moments Michael sighed again. “All right, perhaps it’s time…”

  Then, laughter drifted towards them from the bow of the ship.

  Looking past him, Anne saw Owen and Miss Keeble about 100 yards away. Owen’s arm was around her waist and her head was on his shoulder. Then, after more shared laughter, Owen pulled her towards him and they kissed.

  For someone breaking off an engagement, that seems like a rather intense kiss, Anne thought.

  Her hands started to tremble. Had Owen changed his mind? Visions of marriage with Lord Chusterwood rose before her. She shuddered, and bit her lip as she fought back tears.

  “I’m sorry, I should have told you the truth…,” Michael began. Then, seeing Anne’s expression, he turned to see what she was staring at.

  “Oh. That’s why you’re so upset.” He wrapped one arm around her.

  His arm felt comforting. Protective. But, she also wanted to scream in rage at the unfairness of it all.

  She gestured vaguely with her hands, and then shrugged, but he didn’t let go. She liked that, but she also wanted to be far away from men. All men.

  She didn’t know how to explain her feelings. To an outsider, especially an American, the situation would sound crass. And, in a way, it was.

  Had she been born in the United States, she might have married for love. In England, in the aristocracy, not everyone had that luxury.

  As she struggled to find the right words, she didn’t hear Grace until her aunt was just a few yards away.

  Grace’s face was grimmer than usual, and her stride was aggressive.

  “Oh, Aunt Grace, I’m so sorry. But, as you can see…”

  Grace glanced ahead at Owen and his fiancee, still arm in arm, and shook her head in disgust. Then she pointed to chairs in a sheltered area of the deck. “Let’s sit there, where we won’t be overheard.”

  Grace dropped onto a simple deck chair and sighed. Anne and Michael followed, and sat sideways on one lounge chair, facing her. The aunt’s face was so pale, it looked like she might faint.

  “Go get her a glass of water, Michael,” Anne urged.

  As he left, Grace whispered. “Good choice, sending him away. No one – absolutely no one – should hear what I’m about to say.”

  Anne nodded. “I know. You’re disappointed, but I’ll keep working on Owen -”

  Grace put up one hand. “No, it’s not that. I was playing bridge with Lord White and Lady Blackwell. Both were in Boston for a wedding.”

  “And…?”

  “Well, Lord White left England about ten days ago.”

  “So he has news from home?”

  Grace nodded. “He said my brother is bankrupt. Absolute flint.”

  “Well, yes, he lost nearly everything when the Glasgow Bank failed. But that was three years ago.”

  Grace shook her head. “No, it’s worse. Where my dear brother banks now – or I should say banked - in Barncombe…? It’s failed as well. The money is truly gone, this time.”

  “All of it?”

  Grace nodded. “Vide poche – empty pockets, as they say. Half the banks in the county. Several neighbors lost their estates, outright.”

  “Including Owen’s family?” Anne felt like a vulture, hoping they were bankrupt. Then she wouldn’t have to marry him.

  “Not according to Lord White. They’ve always banked at Braedon, and — remarkably — it suffered only minor losses.”

  “But Father can recover with money from his crops, right?”

  Grace shook her head. “No, the crops have always been a break-even proposition at best. To earn a good income, your father needs to combine resources with Sedley. Something about lowering the overhead and -”

  “So if I don’t marry Owen -”

  “You must marry someone else with money, and plenty of it.”

  Now her father’s plan became clear. “So that’s why Father is rushing me into a marriage with Lord Chusterwood.”

  Grace smoothed her skirt and then folded her hands. “Well, I’m afraid that’s not as it seemed, either.”

  “Was Chusterwood’s money in Barncombe, as well? Or has he died?”

  “Neither,” Grace replied. “According to Lady Blackwell, Lord Chusterwood isn’t a miser, despite appearances.”

  Grace’s expression was not encouraging as she spoke. “Lady Blackwell said he’s absolutely and utterly broke, and living off dinner invitations and gifts he receives from people who’d like to be his heir.”

  “But his house… his land…”

  “All entailed, despite what he’s said. The heir is a distant cousin in Wales. According to Lady Blackwell, he showed up ab
out two weeks ago, to make sure his claim was recognized.”

  “But if I marry Chusterwood and produce an heir…,” Anne’s voice trailed off. She remembered Owen’s greasy kiss. If Owen was that revolting to kiss, she shuddered to think about intimacy with Lord Chusterwood.

  “Really, Anne…? Do you truly want to take that chance…?”

  Anne paused, letting it all sink in. “So, it has to be Owen. Otherwise, Father is bankrupt as well.”

  “I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but yes. We’ll be out on the streets with nothing to our names.”

  “Speaking of drama,” Anne said, “Here comes Owen and his fiancee. He’d said his future was with me, and then he kissed her.”

  “I know. I saw it,” Grace sympathized, standing up. “Let’s walk on the deck and smile as if everything is just fine. We’ll sort this. I promise.” She linked her arm through Anne’s and nodded pleasantly as Owen and Miss Keeble approached.

  Then, a gust of wind swept Grace’s shawl from her shoulders. It flew across the deck and wrapped around the nearby rail.

  Owen raced after it and returned it, tipping his head towards Grace’s as he draped the shawl around her shoulders. Then he returned to his fiancee, wound his arm around her waist, and continued walking.

  At the head of the stairway, Owen glanced back and, with a raised eyebrow and an odd grin, tipped his hat.

  Anne whispered, “What was that about?”

  Grace looked at Anne and muttered, “Keep walking, and wait until they’ve left the deck.”

  Grace smiled. Anne smiled.

  And then the couple were out of sight.

  “Aunt Grace, what did he say to you?”

  “He wants you to meet him in the first-class lounge in about an hour. He said he’ll explain everything.”

  An Aching Heart

  In his first-class stateroom, Michael threw himself on his bed and stared at the oak-paneled ceiling.

  From the reading chair near the fireplace, Stephen chuckled. “So, you’re having that much fun, are you now?”

  Michael propped himself up on his elbows and sighed. “She’s the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. She has depths the girls at home can’t match -”