The Earl's Engagement (Love at Sea Book 1) Read online

  “Men do it,” Grace pouted.

  “Yes, dearest, but when a man plays cards professionally, he’s a ‘gentleman gambler’. When a woman does the same thing, she’s an ‘opportunist’ and, eventually, she’s called a cheat.”

  Grace rolled onto her side with a concerned expression on her face as she admitted, “Well, yes, that’s a risk. But my life is a mess, anyway. And we’re broke. When your father dies, we’ll be on our own, and neither of has much income.”

  Anne tried not to think about that.

  Grace sat up again. “My dear, do you really want to choose between men like Owen and Lord Chusterwood? Don’t make my mistake. Find love. Don’t spend the rest of your life single, relying on the charity of relatives. Or worse.”

  “So we should open a gambling parlour in Father’s house and get rich women to lose at cards.”

  Grace shrugged. “Then you could marry your nice young actor.”

  Anne turned her head. She’d cried herself to sleep, earlier in the evening. That was enough for one day.

  “No, Grace, he’s just playing a role, ‘signifying nothing’, as the Bard would say.”

  The words were bitter in her mouth.

  Grace grabbed Anne’s hands. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. And how you look at him, as well.”

  Then, Grace began to sob. “When I was younger – much younger – I had a beau. We were oh, so in love. But my parents insisted he wasn’t good enough. So I told him I didn’t care for him, and he believed me. And that was that.”

  Anne looked away. Poor Aunt Grace, she thought. And now, poor me.

  “Anne, dearest, don’t make the same mistake I did. Tell your young man how you feel. I don’t think his attentions to you have been an act. Not even a little.”

  Anne grimaced and glared at Grace. “That’s not what you said earlier. You said he wasn’t an option. He’s not even a real actor. Just a stagehand. And probably broke.”

  Tears welled in Grace’s eyes as she took both of Anne’s hands in her own. “I know, and I’m just a lonely old woman. The more I thought about it, tonight -”

  “You mean the more sherry you had.”

  “No, it’s been on my mind ever since I left our cabin, earlier tonight. I was giving you the same bad advice my parents gave me, and look what that led to.”

  Anne looked away. Her eyes narrowed as she blurted, “It hardly matters. He kissed me tonight -”

  “He did? See…? I told you he cares.”

  “But then he said he didn’t mean it.”

  “Was it a good kiss? Did it seem to last forever and did it curl your toes?”

  Anne didn’t want to answer.

  “Oh, dearest Anne, he loves you and you love him. And it doesn’t have to be a ladies’ gambling parlour. I’ll think of something else. Love is all that matters.”

  “But -”

  Grace’s expression was serious, and she started swaying again. “No ‘buts’. Don’t let anything stand between you and happiness… between you and love. I don’t care if he is an actor or whatever. And American. And probably penniless. And you shouldn’t care either.”

  “But Father -”

  “Your father got himself into this situation. He and I are adults. Let us sort this out. Go. Find love. If not with your young American actor, then with someone else worthy of you.”

  And with that bit of advice, Grace passed out for the second time and started snoring in earnest.

  Anne tucked her into bed and opened a well-worn copy of Portrait of a Lady. The story was just depressing enough to fit her mood.

  She’d read less than half a page when she heard a knock at the door.

  It was Owen.

  “Come in before someone sees you,” Anne whispered, pulling him into the room. “But don’t think this means anything. Becoming your mistress is not my future.”

  All is Lost

  By the time Michael returned to his dressing room, Stephen had put away the costumes, and downed his own pint of ale plus half of the one he’d brought for Michael.

  Michael sat down at his dressing table and put his head in his hands. “Stephen, I’ve ruined everything now.”

  “And how did you do that?”

  “I kissed her.”

  “And that was wrong?”

  “If you’d seen her face…”

  “Brutal, was it?”

  “Not the kiss -”

  “Sorry, I meant was her reaction awful?”

  Michael stood up and started pacing. “Worse than awful. She covered her face as if she couldn’t bear to look at me.”

  “And she said…?”

  “Nothing. So I started to apologize, and she just bolted from me, crying.”

  “Ah, Michael, that doesn’t sound good.”

  “I’ve lost her, haven’t I? I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I’m not sure I ever will, again.”

  Michael returned to his chair and slumped, putting his hands over his face.

  Stephen thought for a few minutes. “I’ve not had much success with love, myself. But perhaps you could talk with her?”

  “If you could have seen the way she looked at me, even after I apologized. No. If she ever had feelings for me, I crushed them. I should never have kissed her. Not like that.”

  “In that case, let’s go back to our cabin. I have a fine bottle of whiskey. Maybe we’ll think of something.”

  “I can’t face her again. Not after this.”

  Stephen raised an eyebrow. “Maybe yes. Maybe no.”

  Second Chances

  Owen rushed into Anne’s cabin, out of breath, and leaned against one wall. “Oh, Anne, you were so right, and I was so very wrong,” he whispered. “I’m a changed man. I’m ready to be the husband you want.”

  Anne clutched her robe closed and sniffed the air to see if he’d been drinking. No alcohol unless it was straight vodka, but what’s his game, now?

  “Fine, Owen, but keep your voice down. Grace is asleep.”

  Owen nodded, and when they were seated on the sofa, he explained. “Miss Keeble had left her shawl in my room.”

  Anne raised an eyebrow.

  “No, it’s not what it sounds like. I’ve been very respectful of her.”

  But not of me, Anne fumed.

  “So, when she seemed to vanish after dinner, I went to her room to return it.”

  Is there a point to this?, she wondered.

  His voice broke as he said, “She’d left the door unlocked, and I wondered if that was an invitation.”

  Typical. This man has no morals.

  He continued, “Her room was dark, except for light from the hallway. That’s when…” He paused for effect. “That’s when I saw Nellie – Miss Keeble – in bed. With one of the ship’s bar stewards.”

  Anne stifled a grin. Poetic justice, and just what Owen deserved.

  “Anne, I’m serious. At that moment, I knew how you must have felt, each time I… err… was unfaithful.”

  She thought, You mean each time you cheated on me, embarrassed me in front of our friends, and made me feel unattractive.

  Instead, she said, “I’m so very sorry, Owen, but this doesn’t change anything.”

  In the low light, Anne couldn’t tell if Owen’s eyes were tearing up, but there was a catch in his voice.

  “I mean it, Anne. Tonight, I understood how humiliated you must have felt.”

  Good. It’s about time.

  “I’m a new man now. A reformed man, and I’m ready to be a good husband to you. I won’t even mind if your father is a farmer while he gets back on his feet.”

  He must really be desperate.

  As Anne remained silent, Owen took it as a cue for him to kiss her.

  She shoved him away. “No, Owen, give me some time. I may consider a marriage of convenience, for the sake of our families. But romance is out of the question, at least for now.”

  “That’s fair. After tonight, I understand how much I’d hurt you. But I swear
, that’s in the past.”

  “And you’ll work with Father, as he’s wanted you to? He can use some of your land for farming?”

  Owen raised his hands in protest. “No, I didn’t say that. I’ll forgive your father his financial blunders, if he needs to farm his own land. But only enough to recover his finances.”

  How generous, you pompous twit.

  He shook his head. “You know I cannot marry a farmer’s daughter.”

  Anne leaned back and looked at her hands in silence.

  “My dear, as Earl of Sedley – and later, as the Duke – I can never be associated with farming. It’s worse than being in trade. I have a reputation to maintain.”

  He continued, “Of course, I want your father to be successful. We may need to use his assets as collateral for a loan.”

  Anne’s eyebrows shot up. “A loan…?”

  He cleared his throat. “Err, to cover a few of my… well, my indiscretions.”

  “Indiscretions…?”

  Even in the dim cabin lighting, Anne could see Owen’s color rise. The words seemed to tumble out from between his fat lips. “Fine, my gambling debts. Everyone probably knows that Father plans to cut me off.”

  He stood up and started pacing, waving his arms as he spoke. “This miserable trip to America, the rich bride… all of it was Father’s idea. He said I’d have to pay for my mistakes and – until tonight – I didn’t realize how harsh that price might be.”

  Anne’s eyes narrowed. “So, you’re broke and you need a wife with money. Or someone who might borrow some for you.”

  “I’ll win it back. I promise. You’re not risking a farthing.”

  Anne snorted. She didn’t care if she woke Grace. In fact, Grace might enjoy witnessing this.

  “So, you’re saying that the American solution wasn’t what you expected, and now – in a questionable moment of remorse – you think I’ll take you back, and you’ll use me -”

  “No, we’ll use the assets you’ll inherit -”

  “As collateral to cover your gambling debts. And then you’ll continue your dissolute ways.”

  “Now, Anne, you’re being hysterical. It’s not like that. After all, we had been engaged, and -”

  “’And’ nothing, Owen. You’ve been lying to me, and probably to your fiancee. Or is she your ex-fiancee? You didn’t explain that part.”

  “I’ll break things off in the morning. I promise.”

  “No, Lord Sedley.” Every word oozed with sarcasm. “And again, no. You got what you deserved, and now you expect me to fix a situation you created.”

  “But, Anne, dearest -”

  She strode to the cabin door and opened it. “No, Owen. I was willing to consider your proposal if it was heartfelt, but you’re still a liar, and I hate liars. Get out. Go reconcile with your fiancee. You deserve each other.”

  “But, Anne…,” Owen sputtered as she shoved him out the door.

  Then, seeing how resolute she was, he walked away. Over his shoulder, he shouted, “Don’t ask me again, Anne Travers. I will not take you back, ever.”

  At that point, Anne didn’t care if the entire ship heard him, or even what they thought of her.

  She turned out the light and climbed back into bed. How did Grace sleep through all that?, she wondered. Well, she’ll have quite a hangover in the morning.

  Anne was almost asleep again when she heard another knock at the door. “Go away, Owen,” she muttered. “I’ve made up my mind.”

  A louder knock followed, so she grabbed her robe and stumbled to the door.

  She swung it open, almost taking the door off its hinges. Her voice was icy cold as she started, “No, there is absolutely no chance I’ll marry you…”

  But it wasn’t Owen at her door.

  It was Michael.

  Love is the Answer

  Michael looked at her and blinked. “Is this a bad time?”

  Anne pulled her robe around her and hoped she didn’t look too disheveled.

  “I thought you were Owen.”

  Michael’s eyes grew wide. “So, you’ve thrown him over?”

  She looked at the carpet, frowned, and then stepped back. “Come in, but just for a minute,” she whispered. “Grace is asleep.”

  On the other side of the room, as if on cue, Grace gave a gentle snort and rolled over.

  Anne looked at Michael, and they both stifled their laughter as they sat down on the sofa.

  Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then Anne got up and Michael leaped to his feet, too.

  Neither said anything. They just stared at one another.

  Finally, Anne whispered, “It’s fine. And please sit down. You didn’t need to come here. You’ve already apologized for that kiss. I’m the one who reacted badly.”

  His smile was grim as he shook his head.

  Anne felt almost light-headed, gazing at him. In the moonlight, he is far too handsome. I should not be alone with him, and Grace isn’t much of a chaperone right now.

  Michael looked deep into her eyes. Then he rubbed his neck and took a deep breath. “I’ve thought and thought about this, Anne Travers. I’m the one who should apologize.”

  Anne started to object, but he raised one hand and she pressed her lips together, remaining quiet.

  He continued, “Not for the kiss. I meant that. In fact, I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment I first saw you in that Boston pawn shop.”

  Anne swayed slightly and sat down next to him. I’m dreaming, she decided. But is this a good dream, or a nightmare?

  Michael took both of her hands in his. “Anne, we’ve only known each other a short time, but the way I feel about you… it’s wonderful and terrifying at the same time.”

  She nodded.

  His expression was earnest as he blurted, “All I know is… I can’t let you go.”

  Anne shook her head and wondered where Grace had hidden the last of the sherry. This was not the conversation Anne was expecting.

  She tugged at her hands, but Michael grasped them even more tightly as he slid off the sofa and dropped to one knee.

  “I’m sorry, Michael, but if this is a proposal, I can’t accept.”

  “You don’t love me?”

  “No,” she started, and then realized how that sounded. “Well, yes, actually. I think I’ve felt head-over-heels about you from the start, but -”

  “What else matters?”

  She tugged more firmly on her hands, and he released them. “Being American, you may not understand this, but I have responsibilities to my family… to my father and to Aunt Grace. I have to marry a man with -”

  “Money?”

  “Well, yes -”

  “I have some funds of my own. And if your father and Grace need to live with us, I’m sure we can manage.”

  Anne leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her. “No, I don’t think you understand. And, wait…”

  She blinked a few times and sighed. “Can you please stop using your English stage accent? When I hear it, I wonder if you’re just playing some scene you memorized.”

  “You’d rather I speak as an American?”

  “I’d rather hear you speak as yourself, and yes, that means the way you sounded in the pawnshop.”

  His smile grew even wider.

  She continued, “No, I haven’t forgotten that day, either, but under the circumstances, it’s best if you just accept ‘no’ as my answer. My life is… complicated.”

  “Fine,” he said in an American accent. “If I need to talk like this for you to take me seriously, that’s fine. But you need to know this: I really am English. And I come from a good family. So, I think I understand your dilemma, but whatever it is, we can overcome it, together.”

  “No, Michael, and do get up from the floor. This feels… awkward.”

  As he slid back onto the sofa next to her, she blinked several times. His words were starting to sink in.

  She tilted her head. “Wait… you’re English?”

 
; He nodded.

  “And you let me believe you’re an American, and an actor…?”

  He shifted back to his real accent. “Well, yes. I was an aspiring actor, and I was living in America. You assumed the rest.”

  “Because you led me to believe it.”

  He rubbed his neck again. “Well, yes, I suppose that’s fair.”

  “It was all an act?” Anne’s eyes narrowed. “What else haven’t you told me? This… this is too much,” she sputtered. “Why do men think they can lie and lie, and it won’t matter?”

  “I love you and I hope you love me, too. That should be all that matters.”

  She stood up and started pacing the floor. “No, I just turned down Owen for the second time because he lies to everyone.”

  “So I was right. He was here. And he wanted you back?”

  She paused in front of him and nodded.

  “And you turned him down.”

  She nodded again.

  Michael’s grin was so wide, Anne thought he looked like a Cheshire cat, but handsome.

  With a brief glance towards Grace, Michael whispered, “So marry me.”

  Anne walked to the window. Why did life have to be so complicated?

  “No, and I’ll tell you exactly what I told him. I cannot marry a liar. Not now and not ever, so get out.”

  Michael blinked. “Are you addressing me, or just repeating what you said to Owen?”

  “You pretended to be American. You pretended to be my fiance, too. How much was real? How much was just an act? I don’t know what the truth is, anymore. And I never want to see you – or any other liar – again.”

  She put her hands over her face and started to sob.

  Michael sighed. “If that’s how you really feel…”

  Abruptly, the room brightened. Grace had turned on her bedside lamp, and now she was glaring at them from across the room.

  She threw both hands into the air. “Are you listening to each other? This is impossible -”

  Anne rushed to comfort her aunt. “Oh no, I’m so sorry we woke you.”

  Grace shook her head. “I’ve been awake for some time. I didn’t want to interrupt your young man’s earnest proposal.”