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

by Alice N. Palmer

  The Earl’s Engagement

  Alice N. Palmer

  Copyright Notice

  Copyright © 2019 by New Forest Books for Alice N. Palmer

  All rights reserved. For more information, visit AliceNPalmer.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Lady Anne Makes a Decision

  1883

  Boston, Massachusetts

  In the dim light of dawn, Lady Anne Travers stretched as she kicked off the threadbare bedclothes. She wasn’t sure she’d slept at all.

  From the next bed, her aunt Grace said, “I still say you can’t sell your mother’s pearls.”

  Anne sat bolt upright. Clearly, last night’s argument hadn’t resolved. “How else can we get home to England?”

  “Your father -”

  Anne interrupted, “He hasn’t sent funds in weeks, and we’re nearly out of things to sell.”

  “Can’t you wait until the morning post arrives? Perhaps he’s already sent something.”

  “We’ve waited, Aunt Grace. I’m sure Father thinks this trip was a waste of time and money.”

  Grace sighed. “Just a few more hours, please? Just to humor me? I have a good feeling about today.”

  Anne reached for her robe. “No, I’ve made up my mind. By now the pawnbroker’s shop will be open. The earlier I go, the less chance I’ll be seen by someone we know.”

  “Can’t you ask Lord Sedley for help?”

  “Owen…? No, he’ll only laugh. I’m the one who ended our engagement and then followed him here.”

  Grace snorted. “Your father insisted. And surely, after how Sedley humiliated you, he owes you something?”

  “You know he’d disagree.”

  Grace nodded. Arranged marriages were practically routine in the aristocracy, but Grace had always disapproved of Sedley.

  She made one final try. “Please. As a favor to me, wait for today’s mail. And if your father still hasn’t send funds, I’ll go to the pawnbroker myself.”

  Anne smiled but shook her head. “It’s a shabby place, Aunt Grace. I wouldn’t put you through that. This mess is mine to resolve.”

  “Oh my dear, you take too much on yourself. If your father had listened to me…” Her voice faded. All of this had been said before.

  Anne gathered her clothes and stepped behind the changing screen. The sooner she sold the pearls and returned with Grace to England, the better.

  20 minutes later, Anne hurried to her destination. Street sweepers and milkmen were starting their rounds, and her throat tightened at the first whiff of early morning coal fires.

  Slipping through the side entrance, next to the Collateral Loans sign, Anne joined the waiting line. Ahead were a mix of well-dressed men who’d pulled their collars up to conceal their faces, and people in work clothes, just trying to make ends meet.

  Within minutes, Anne heard two men behind her, chatting amiably. She glanced back, trying to appear casual.

  One man was in his mid-20s, tall and handsome, with a strong chin and intensely blue eyes. His companion was short, stocky, and scruffy looking. Each carried an odd assortment of household items. Candle holders, a garden rake, a few silver serving dishes, and an old book with an ornate, studded cover.

  Thieves? She wondered.

  The taller one grinned and — as if reading her mind — explained in a lazy American drawl, “Theater props. Our show concluded last night. We’d only borrowed these.”

  Anne blushed. Americans, she thought. They’re always so forward. “Of course,” she replied, avoiding his gaze.

  Ahead of her, someone cleared his throat, signaling Anne’s turn at the counter. Still, something about the tall man behind her made her pulse race, even as her heart plummeted, handing the pawnbroker her late mother’s treasured necklace.

  “You’re sure you want to sell this?” The clerk leaned towards her and lowered his voice. “We could hold it for, say, ten days. Maybe your circumstances will change?”

  Anne shook her head and choked out the words, “Thank you, but no. I want to sell it. Please give me your best offer.”

  Minutes later, Anne fled the shop. She was still blushing, partly from the humiliation of yet another visit to the pawnbroker, but also from the emotions stirred by… No, she wouldn’t think about it. Actors were entirely unsuitable, and she’d never see him again, anyway. I won’t feel so light-headed after I’ve had breakfast, she decided.

  She circled the block a few times, trying to recover her composure. No matter what her aunt said, Anne felt as if she’d disappointed everyone, and had no one to blame but herself.

  She had to focus on the future. After all, with the sale of the necklace, Anne could buy two third-class tickets on the SS Oceanic. The accommodations might be grim, but at least they’d be back in England in less than 10 days.

  When Anne finally returned to the boarding house, Grace greeted her with a smile, and waved a sheet of monogrammed stationery.

  She crowed, “I knew today would be better! Your father has sent us passage home. First-class tickets. And he’s arranged a different marriage for you, as well.”

  Anne felt as if the floor had lurched. “Already? Who…?”

  Grace adjusted her spectacles as she re-read the letter. “Hmm… there it is… Lord Chusterwood. Do you know him?”

  Anne nodded. “Yes. And he’s awful. Old. Terrible teeth and worse breath. Of course, he’s rich, but…” She paused. “He’s also a pincher.”

  “A pincher…?”

  “It’s as if he has more arms than an octopus and a vicious pinch. It makes one wish bustles were back in style.”

  “Oh.”

  Anne sat down on her bed, hard.

  After a few minutes, Grace’s face brightened. “Wait. This means you can go back and redeem your mother’s pearl necklace.”

  “You’re right. This early in the morning, I doubt anyone was there to buy things.”

  Anne offered a wobbly smile and dashed to the door. “I’ll return shortly.”

  This time, Anne entered the pawn shop through the front door and walked deliberately to the customers’ counter. No one was ahead of her.

  “I’d like to buy back the pearl necklace I sold here this morning.”

  The clerk lifted his empty hands, grimaced, and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Someone bought the necklace almost as soon as you’d left the shop. They’re gone.”

  Seeing Anne’s face crumple, the clerk repeated, “I’m so sorry.”

  Then, Anne had an idea. “Wait. Do you have a receipt? Do you know who bought them?”

  The clerk shook his head. “Miss, in this business, it’s best not to know names.”

  Crushed, Anne bolted from the store, once again hating herself for the situation she was in.

  Maybe she should have put aside her feelings, ignored the gossip, and married Owen, Lord Sedley. Now she was returning to England to marry someone even worse.

  That necklace was the one thing she’d treasured after her mother’s death.

  There had to be a solution to her heartache.

  Plans Change

  The early morning sun seemed glaringly bright as the two men left the pawnshop. On their way back to their rooms in Coolidge House, Michael—the younger of the two—paused at the Bell in Hand.

  "Let's get breakfast," he suggested.

  "You'll not be spending what the pawnbroker gave us," Stephen warned.

  Michael
laughed. "Of course not. This comes out of my pocket."

  "In that case," Stephen said with a flourish, "Sure, I’m ready for a good meal, m'lad. Or should I say m'lord?"

  Michael continue to grin, but his eyes took on a wariness.

  After they were seated at a heavy oak trestle table, the landlord approached.

  "Good morning, lads. We're serving back bacon, sausage, and eggs with fresh-baked corn bread." Glancing at Michael, he added, "Beans and tomatoes as well, if that's your taste."

  Michael nodded. "It is, and servings for both of us. And a pint of your best."

  Stephen cut in, "Make mine tea. Michael, isn't it a little early in the morning?"

  “We worked all night, so morning doesn’t count.”

  “Aye, that we did.”

  The landlord said, "That will be $1.25." Then, with a sharp glance at Stephen he added, "In advance."

  Michael's eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his smile in place as he handed cash to the landlord.

  As the landlord walked away, Stephen chuckled, "I guess I look a bit shady."

  Michael surveyed the other patrons. “We both seem out of place among all these merchants and travelers."

  "But he guessed that you're English. Your accent slips when you haven't slept."

  "As does yours. We both have our secrets."

  "Sure, as do most of the company. We all have our reasons for choosing the footlights.”

  Michael wasn’t rising to that bait and, conveniently, a serving girl brought breakfast almost immediately.

  The men pounced on their food. Between bites, Stephen pointed his fork at the food. "Haven't had a breakfast like this in dog’s years."

  Michael nodded and kept eating.

  Stephen continued, "Haven't seen a pretty girl like that in some time, either."

  Michael shrugged and cut himself another slice of cornbread.

  Stephen tried again. "So, Michael, m'lad, what about that girl at the pawnshop?"

  Michael took a swig of his ale and shrugged. "I don't know what you mean."

  "Ah, so she did catch your eye. And perhaps gave your heartstrings a bit of a tug?"

  "I don't know what you're suggesting."

  Stephen laughed. "So it's like that, is it? And you don't even know her name."

  Suddenly, Michael seemed very intent on cutting his bacon into several smaller pieces.

  Stephen raised an eyebrow. “Suit yourself, but Boston is a big city. I doubt you'll see her again."

  Michael took a final gulp of his ale and nodded. "Perhaps, but as you’ve said many times, never second-guess Fate. Besides, I have a feeling…”

  “We’ll see, boyo. We’ll see.”

  ***

  Back in the theater, the manager had gathered the sleepy cast and crew. "Just in time, lads," he said.

  "No rest for the wicked," Stephen muttered.

  The manager continued, "As I was telling everyone, there's been a change of plans."

  Michael and Stephen took seats with the others and looked up at the manager, standing at center stage.

  "What kind of change?" Stephen asked.

  "There's been a fire at the theater in Concord. It’s closed for repairs, for at least a month. So, our contract is canceled."

  The gasp throughout the company was almost tangible.

  The manager raised his hands. “Wait. I have good news as well. A passenger ship is taking us on for one round trip. We'll have two performances a day, and Sundays off."

  Stephen asked, “And what’s the pay?”

  The manager paced the stage briefly, and then continued, "There’s no pay, but we do get room and board, and everyone will have his own bed." He glanced around at the bedrolls on the stage, chuckling, "For most of you, that will be an improvement."

  After a few minutes of conversation among cast and crew, the manager raised his hands again. "The better news is, the pay will be generous on future trips. This is just a trial run, to see whether the ship's guests like us, and we're a good fit for the line."

  One woman shouted out, "So where are we sailing to?"

  "England, and we sail on Wednesday. Is everyone in?"

  A young actor stood and asked, "Is this the best we can do?"

  The manager nodded. “Indeed."

  The actor looked around and, seeing nods, agreed, "Then we're in."

  Stephen said nothing until he and Michael were backstage, collecting their gear. "Michael, do you have something to say?"

  Michael shrugged.

  "You're hiding something. It's written all over you."

  A Chance Meeting

  Anne sat down on her stateroom bed and started unbuttoning her boots.

  Seated on a reading chair by the window, Grace was doing the same.

  Anne paused and sighed. “Do you think Father knew?”

  “That Owen and his new fiancee would be on this ship? Maybe. Even as a child, your father was devious.”

  Anne flung one boot towards the closet. “So… how do I deal with this? I mean, she seemed pleasant enough. Just another rich American whose parents want a titled son-in-law.”

  “So awkward.”

  “I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t seem to find the right words. I’m still… stunned, I suppose.”

  Grace walked over and put her arms around Anne’s shoulders. “And he seemed smooth and oily, as usual. His braying laugh still irritates me. Really, I don’t know what your father was thinking.”

  “He was thinking about our adjoining properties, and the wealth that could mean.” Anne paused to massage her aching feet. “Do you suppose his highness the great Lord Sedley thinks I planned this?”

  “Being on the same ship? And as vain as he is? Probably.”

  Seeing Anne grimace, Grace hastily added, “It’s not like you. Regardless, Owen is likely to take it as a compliment.”

  “Perfect,” Anne fumed, opening her trunk to hang up her gowns. “We could have ten days of having to avoid them.”

  “Unless…”

  “Grace, what are you thinking?”

  “You could try to win him back, if Lord Chusterwood is as bad as you say.”

  “Lesser of two evils?”

  Grace nodded.

  Anne pitched the other boot even harder. “I hate how calculated that sounds. And I hate even more that you’re right.”

  Grace tapped her chin with her fingers.

  “Aunt Grace, I know that look. You’re plotting something.”

  “Perhaps. Tell me, how did you feel when you saw Owen and Miss… what’s her name?”

  “Nellie Keeble, I think. And I felt embarrassed, as if I was the rejected one.”

  “And…?”

  Anne grimaced. “Fine. I felt a little jealous.”

  Grace raised an eyebrow.

  “What do you want me to say, that I still care for him? No, I don’t. It was more an old habit.”

  “Exactly, and we can put that to use.”

  Anne shook her head vigorously. “No, no, and no. I’m not pretending to be the distraught, rejected lover.”

  “Of course not. I meant you should turn the tables. See if you can make Owen jealous. Attach yourself to someone, and be sure Owen sees it.”

  “Easier said than done. It could take days to find someone willing to be part of such a shabby charade.”

  “Put your boots back on and go for a walk. Look for eligibles.”

  “Alone? Unchaperoned?”

  “Remember our earlier voyage? Standards are different on a ship, and the sight of me might scare men off.”

  A few minutes later, Grace shoved Anne out the door.

  “Fine,” Anne sighed, “but I still don’t like this.”

  “Think how much less you’d like marrying Lord Chusterwood, the pincher.”

  ***

  Five minutes and two staircases later, Anne was on the upper deck, gazing down on dockworkers preparing to cast off. At the side of the ship, a row of tugboats fired up, ready to nudge
the Oceanic forward. Soon, the ship began to tilt as it entered deeper waters.

  Anne almost lost her balance when she heard a rich, deep voice behind her.

  “Small world,” Michael said.

  Anne turned and blinked. “I’ve seen you before.”

  “At the pawnbroker’s,” he prompted.

  Anne blushed scarlet.

  “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I won’t say anything if you won’t.”

  “I thought you worked in Boston. Theater, wasn’t it?”

  “You remembered.”

  “So, holiday…?”

  Michael shook his head. “Work. We’re part of the entertainment.”

  “And you’re an actor.”

  “Not exactly. I’m a stagehand, but I’m also an understudy, should an actor fall ill.”

  Anne paused, choosing her words carefully. “But, um, this is the first class deck. I mean…”

  Michael grinned. “It’s fine, and you’re right. The third-class berthing the company are in is rather cramped, so my friend Stephen and I… you met him, at… well you know. We indulged in a cabin of our own.”

  “First class…? I mean…” Once again, Anne felt uncomfortable. But really, the man’s blue eyes and easy smile were unsettling.

  “It’s fine. I had some savings of my own. I may regret that impulse when we see our expenses in England, but at the moment… well, it seems the right decision.”

  Anne wasn’t sure if she understood.

  Michael grinned again and explained, “It’s why we’ve met again, here. On this deck.”

  Anne blushed and studied the distant horizon as if it were the most interesting sight in the world.

  Several minutes passed. She felt at ease with him, but—at the same time – she also felt nervous, as Grace’s plan came to mind.

  Michael cleared his throat and stepped back, making a slight bow. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Perhaps we’ll see each other again, before we dock in Liverpool.”

  As he turned away, Anne reached out and touched his arm. For a moment, time seemed to come to a halt. Finally, she blurted, “Wait, I need to ask you something.”