by Merry Farmer
So why on earth had he gone and made a fool out of himself with the Randall girl?
A stark answer came back to him, one that didn’t make him feel very good about himself. Oliver had been afraid. Oh, not of Juliana, no, it had been even worse. Oliver was afraid of how he felt when he was around her. There was nothing of the upright, almost frigid Duke he had created for himself when Juliana was about.
The woman was a force to be reckoned with. He found himself wanting to sweep her off her feet and carry the chit to the nearest cave. Not that there were many caves in the drawing rooms of Mayfair.
He must have given the girl a disgust for himself. Because as quickly as she had seemed to have a slight tendre for him, it had turned to polite indifference. Oliver had cursed himself because he knew that he was the only one to blame for the situation they were in.
Years had passed, and the lovely lady hadn’t married any of the swains that had darkened her door. Oliver had held out hope that perhaps he had a chance. But he hadn’t the first clue about how to take it. Why was it that he could act the part around the bloody monarchy, but he couldn’t be anything but a bumbling fool in front of this one small girl?
Oliver had tried to look about for a wife that wouldn’t cause his mind to fall to mush or cause his heart to try and escape its cage. But it was no use. There wasn’t anyone that he wished to see across the breakfast table. Well, there was one, green-eyed vixen with chestnut brown hair. But he had told himself she would never want the likes of him.
Where most women in the Ton fell all over themselves just to have him glance their way. Lady Juliana acted like he didn’t exist. Oliver knew that it was a stroke of luck that the Marquess had deigned to write to him about her voyage.
The stars had to be in alignment for Oliver to be there right when the note was delivered. He had immediately sent his man to pack. Within the hour they were riding hell for leather for the coast.
One day he would thank Randall for tipping him off as to Lady Juliana’s trip to sail to America. It didn’t matter to Oliver that Randall was merely asking if Oliver would instruct the Captain of The Corrianne to take special care of Juliana. It wasn’t a secret that the Stanford brothers were unfashionable to dabble in trade. In truth, they had been wealthy merchants in America before the inheritance had brought them to England.
Oliver didn’t have anything to do with the family businesses these days, but his name still carried clout when it came to those that worked for the Stanford family. Oliver had thrown caution to the wind and for once in his life decided to follow his heart. Oliver left a note to his brother Jacob of his plans and left.
In doing so, that is what brought him from London to the docks of Dover, striding up the gangplank on The Corrianne.
“Sir, sir!” the young boy tried to get his attention as Oliver strode purposefully on board.
“I say! You aren’t supposed to be here,” said another sailor from the rigging. “Jimmie, go get the Captain.”
The boy scurried off, climbing the ladder that led below decks.
Oliver stopped by the railing to take a moment to look out across the vast ocean. He had rather enjoyed their trip over, but some of his brothers hadn’t fared so well. Oliver had always fancied himself a bit of a sailor. While he hadn’t ever captained a boat this size, he had some experience with smaller schooners.
“Milord, I am afraid…” The man trailed off when Oliver turned to greet him. “Bless my soul! If it isn’t His Grace, I hadn’t heard you would be joining us. I am honored!”
Oliver gave the man a faint nod of acceptance. The Captain, Abraham Pincher, was as honest as they came. He had been a new Captain when they hired him some fifteen years ago. As the man had aged, he seemed to really excel at his post.
“I understand that you have a woman aboard?” Oliver asked in a haughty tone.
The Captain frowned, his brows coming together. “I don’t know how that could have reached you.”
Oliver was aware that Randall had asked the crew to be discrete. In Oliver’s eyes it did the man credit that he didn’t blurt out her identity the moment someone had asked him.
Oliver relaxed his stance a little. “Her brother, the Marquess, wrote to me. Randall wanted to be sure that the Lady be protected from any harm during her voyage.”
The Captain nodded. “Aye, that is the case. Did you not trust me to care for the lass?”
Oliver shook his head, hands coming up as if to soothe the man. “No, that isn’t the case at all. This is more of a personal favor. I should like to see her. Where do you have the Lady and her maid?”
The Captain motioned to the stairs. “They be in the Captain’s Quarter’s with two guards at the door.”
Oliver smiled. “Well done, Pincher. I can see you have this well in hand.”
Chapter 5
“I’ll not be staying another minute,” the maid wailed as her stomach roiled from the light waves. “I can’t be staying on this ship, Milady, I just can’t.”
She was looking rather green, Juliana thought with a frown. But it didn’t matter if the girl was shooting the cat or not, if word got back to Randall that Juliana sailed without a maid, there would be the devil to pay.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of her brother. Juliana knew him to be a caring individual despite the bluster he could occasionally show. She just avoided conflict if she could, that was the type of person she was. Besides, surely the woman wasn’t as sick as all that.
Another retch had Juliana’s conscience tingling. In order to evade her attack of conscience, Juliana encouraged brightly, “Come now, we haven’t even left the port. Let’s just have you lay down for a while to see if it will pass.”
In response, the girl clenched her stomach and vomited for the third time. Juliana felt her heart sink. This was no way to spend the next six to eight weeks. The girl would likely be dead by the time they arrived.
Just as she was about to exonerate the maid, there was a knock on the door.
Juliana stood and walked over to the thick wooden door. Without another thought, she opened it. But when she saw just who was standing on the other side, she slammed it back closed again.
“Milady,” the maid asked weakly from her perch over the chamber pot.
“It’s nothing, Connie,” Juliana said dismissively.
It was likely a combination of too many restless nights and excitement for the trip.
Another knock came at the door.
Juliana wanted to plug her ears like a child and will the man to stop knocking. For she knew that no matter what excuse she managed to give, the man standing outside her door wasn’t going to go away easily.
“Juliana, open the door!”
The demand came through the closed door, and while muffled, it was certainly easy to pick out the anger in his tones.
“How dare he use my first name,” Juliana said more to herself than anyone else. She could hardly believe that the Duke of Bilkshore was actually standing on the other side of the door.
Another knock, or perhaps it would be fair to say another pounding, caused Juliana to once again place her hand on the knob and turn.
Just as she had suspected, she hadn’t been dreaming.
Drat.
“Your Grace,” Juliana said with a deferential bow that could rival any courtier at the palace. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
His lips twitched a little, despite the stormy sea that was blazing from his eyes. “Are you going to explain why you just slammed the door in my face?”
Juliana gave him what she hoped was a blank look. “Whatever do you mean?”
The maid went and spoiled it all when she said, “Milady, are you ill as well. You just opened the door to His Grace not more than two minutes ago.”
The Duke raised a brow. When his nose wrinkled in disgust, Juliana nearly smiled.
“Are you ill?” he asked shortly.
It bothered Juliana that the man could be so cold when inquiring about her, even
if it were her health.
“I am perfectly alright, as you can see. I would invite you inside, but as you can see, this is my bedchamber for the voyage and therefore not suitable for entertaining. Now, as my maid is ill and needs my attention, I must bid you ado.”
The Duke ignored Juliana and pushed past her into the room. Walking directly to where the maid was bent over the chamber pot, he inquired gently, “Do you wish to make this voyage?”
Juliana could scarcely believe her eyes when her maid promptly burst into tears.
“I can’t do it, Your Grace. I will die, I will. I wasn’t meant to go across the sea. Please don’t make me go.”
“You won’t have to make the voyage. Give me a moment and I will have my man make arrangements to send you back to Lord Randall.”
The maid threw herself onto her knees to beg the Duke her forgiveness. Juliana had half a mind to tell the girl that her theatrics would be better served at Drury Lane. Whatever was she supposed to do now that her chaperon was literally abandoning ship?
She watched silently as the Duke did as he promised. It wasn’t more than a quarter of an hour later that the maid was handed off to one of the Duke’s servants. When he left to ensure that someone would be sent to clean up the remnants of the maid’s illness, Juliana began to pace the floor.
When the door opened next, a cabin boy came and took the offending chamber pot. As he scurried out, the Duke came back inside and closed the door. This time, they were alone.
“Why are you here?” Juliana asked in tight tones, not caring that she had disregarded his honorific. It was bad enough that of all people in the world, this man had to be on the same ship that she was.
“I could ask the very same of you,” he replied languidly.
“My plans are not your concern, Your Grace,” she replied frostily.
“Call me Oliver, Bilkshore if you must, but this will be a long trip if you are forever Your Gracing me.”
“You, you…” Juliana sputtered. Finally gathering her wits, she blurted out, “You can’t come.”
Rather than be annoyed, the man actually laughed at her.
“You may find this hard to believe, Juliana. But I am a grown man who can make his own decisions. What’s more, the boat we are currently residing in, happens to belong to me.”
Juliana felt like her blood was going to boil. How could her own brother have done this to her? What a dirty rotten trick to have played on her? Frustration stiffened her spine. She was clearly stuck between a rock and a hard spot.
“Fine,” she said at last. “If you insist on sailing to America, by all means, be my guest.”
Oliver’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Why thank you. Indeed, I shall make myself at home.”
When he went to sit down at the only chair in the cabin, Juliana balked, saying, “Not in here! You can’t stay here!”
Oliver gave her a bland look. “Why ever not?”
“I can think of nearly a dozen reasons off the top of my head,” she espoused.
He seemed to take that into consideration before answering, “You always were very clever. Now, let me explain a few things to you. First, you are on a ship with at least a dozen or so men. They may have been able to come aboard for some ‘company’ whist in England. But it will be many weeks until we land again in America. By that time, every one of them will be itching to cozy up with a pretty young thing like yourself.”
“I am six and twenty, that is hardly considered a young woman,” Juliana said with a flush.
His eyes were smiling again. “That is your only concern. That they won’t think you are young or attractive enough? Juliana, let me just assure you that your dear Lady Genevieve, who must be in her eightieth year, would likely appeal to them after six weeks of abstinence.
Juliana sank onto the berth where she was to sleep. Hardly recognizing the fact that she, a lady of quality, was sitting on a bed with a man in her room.
She looked up at him with trepidation when she asked, “What’s number two?”
Chapter 6
Oliver prayed that he wasn’t laying it on a little too thick. The last thing he wanted was to Juliana to turn tail and try and swim back for England. Despite the fact that they had just set sail when the maid was returned to shore, Oliver had a notion that Juliana could easily swim the distance.
He liked that she was that sort of woman. Not only was she lovely in every sense of the word, Oliver knew her to be capable of all sorts of escapades. While they had been at his summer home, Chatterling, she and her friend Samantha had somehow managed to tangle themselves up with the war office.
It was unfathomable how the woman attracted trouble. And yet here she was, alone on a boat sailing for America, and she still looked like a bloody queen. He wondered if she knew how lovely she was with her green eyes blazing and her delicate shoulders thrust back as if anticipating war.
What was it she had just asked him?
“I beg your pardon?” he inquired. Not bothering to tell Juliana that it was her beauty that distracted him.
She made an impatient gesture with her hands. “You said that first the men would be looking for, erm, company. What was the second problem with me being here?”
He hadn’t really thought much beyond the first reason. But surely, he could come up with something?
“I should think that the first reason would be enough to satisfy you.” Oliver said stiffly.
Juliana rolled her eyes. It was such a feminine gesture of irritation that Oliver was momentarily transfixed by it. He nearly missed her next words.
“I had already hired two guards to watch the cabin, Your Grace.”
“Oliver,” he interrupted.
Juliana blushed. “It isn’t seemly to call someone their first name unless they are more intimately acquainted.”
Oliver swallowed a smile. “Indeed? Well, then. You know that I am just an American that is trying to learn my way. Perhaps you can show me a spot of leniency.”
“You have lived in London for nearly ten years now. I doubt there is anything you lack when it comes to social graces.”
He fought to keep the timber out of his voice as he said, “Perhaps then we should just skip to the part where we become more intimately acquainted?”
“Sir!” she gasped, clutching her throat in maidenly horror.
Oliver clapped and whistled. “Oh, bravo! Well done. Who were you channeling?”
Juliana scowled fiercely at him. “It’s time that you vacate my room.”
He felt a slow smile spread across his face. For a moment he considered something devilish. It wasn’t that another room couldn’t be arranged for him. He was the owner of the ship after all, even if indirectly through his family.
The thought blossomed into an idea. Oliver stared down at the lovely woman with her hands on her hips and her small heaving bosom. It struck him once again how many times he had failed at winning her favor. The ball where he avoided her altogether, well, those embarrassing moments Oliver never wished to dredge up again.
No, he wanted a failsafe. It was clear to him by the pounding in his heart, the racing in his veins and the throbbing of his groin, that this was the girl for him. Now she wanted to throw him out of her cabin and likely her life.
He cleared his throat. “You see, Juliana, you can’t cross the ocean on a ship full of men. Even now your reputation is hanging by a thread. Once word gets out, well, there will be no saving you.”
He felt a twinge of guilt when her face paled.
“I will have to find another maid to accompany me,” she said distractedly. “Hurry, I need to speak with the Captain. Someone needs to go ashore.”
Oliver refused to let the triumph show when he shook his head sadly and replied, “We’ve already set sail. I am sorry. I thought you knew. We barely were able to get your maid back to the mainland.”
Juliana slumped. “What?”
Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“All is not lost,” he q
uickly added. “Don’t distress yourself so.”
She looked up at him with tears shimmering her in large green eyes. Oliver felt like he had been punched in the gut. It was obvious that she truly was distressed.
“What can I do?”
Oliver went to where she sat, dejected on her berth. He sank to his knees in front of her and took her hands in his own. “Please don’t look so sad,” he implored.
“I’ve gone and ruined everything.” She said, her voice trembling. “Phillip told me to bring a footman as well, but I refused. Now I will be ruined, my family will be shamed, and Amelia. Dear heavens, whatever will I do about Amelia?”
“Who is Amelia?” Oliver asked in confusion.
Juliana bit her lip. It was clear that she hadn’t meant to share that last part. Hearing this only made him want to delve deeper.
“That isn’t of any import,” she said hurriedly, wiping her eyes.
Oliver tried his best to remember anyone named Amelia in the ton. It wasn’t that he knew every chit at Almack’s, but he certainly felt like he had danced with a fair number of ladies. None of them had been named Amelia.
A ruddy flush stained his cheeks. Oliver wouldn’t have known one way or another what half of their names were. He found that speaking to the girls encouraged conversation. The only woman he had ever wished to converse with was sitting on the bunk in front of him.
“Juliana, there is another way we could save your reputation,” he said slowly as to not frighten her.
She sniffled. “What is it?”
“It’s quite commonplace for a man and a woman to travel together as husband and wife.”
She shrugged. “I suppose it is. What does that have to do with…”
He waited for it to sink in. When it did, she lifted her incredulous eyes to his.
“Are you insane? People will think that I am—dear merciful heavens. We won’t be back for months.”
“Precisely,” Oliver said with a nod. “People will think that we’ve run away together and eloped.”
She barked out a bit of hysterical laughter. “They will call you the Runaway Duke and I shall be the Desperate Spinster. No, there has to be another way. There simply has to.”
