by Jina Bacarr
It wouldn’t be that easy. She had her claws in him and they dug deep.
Buck had no choice but to play her game.
He was half filled with regret for taking advantage of Trey’s invitation to sail with him on the Titanic. If he hadn’t, things would have been different. The countess would still be alive. Fiona. So filled with fire under the surface, yet never having the chance to know the comfort of a husband’s loving arms or the passion of his kiss.
The sincerity of her feelings toward him had embarrassed him, but he missed her understanding. How she always steered him in the right direction when he went off with his wild ways.
Now she was at peace, her resting place somewhere beyond the horizon. Fiona would always remain in his soul, forever young and charming. A true lady cherished for being that very thing a man dreamed of, but never believed he would find.
He held onto that thought as the rescue ship sped toward New York, held it tight in his heart when he suddenly realized his mood was changing and another woman claimed his attention.
Ah, yes. Then there was Ava. Bold and brash and the best thing that had ever happened to him.
And now he had to give her up.
Because of Irene.
Her ladyship had had the audacity to send Buck word she’d spoken with his father, the duke, about their affair. A servant had leaked the information to the scandal sheets for a few guineas, no doubt making His Grace livid. It didn’t take long before the affair was part of a two-column spread in the Times.
Two columns because Buck was listed as a survivor of the Titanic. All London was buzzing about how he’d left on the ill-fated ship to escape the wrath of the lady’s husband, who had so conveniently died a fortnight ago.
Leaving his entire estate to Lady Pennington.
Irene had the power to create an even bigger scandal if he didn’t placate her wishes.
Whether or not that meant marriage, he didn’t know.
What he did know was that she was on her way to New York on the next steamship to meet him.
Exactly what he’d feared. Buck would not rise to the bait. Instead, he must make preparations to keep the most important thing in his life safe. Ava. If Irene discovered his involvement with the Irish girl, she’d hire the best detectives to find out what they could about her. He deemed the woman could be trouble, full of cunning and duplicity and, although Irene didn’t travel in the same circles as the countess, he couldn’t take the chance of her discovering the truth.
If she did, Ava would be sent back to Ireland and to prison.
The only way he could keep her safe was to have Ava keep up her pretense as the Countess of Marbury.
And marry Trey.
What other choice did he have?
He had a difficult time accepting that. It punched him in the gut and left him senseless. The pain slashed through him as if an angry god had struck him down with a razor-sharp sword.
He looked at these two people who meant so much to him. His old friend, Trey. And Ava. They had been strangely silent, waiting for him to speak. He couldn’t tell them the truth.
He looked away, trying to gather his thoughts. It seemed colder on deck than it had been all week, though the wind had died down and the coming darkness seemed almost comforting.
He made up his mind.
‘You must go through with this marriage to the countess as planned, Trey,’ Buck said, his tone firm. ‘To make it more appealing, I have a proposition for you.’
Trey shot him a bewildered glance, then thought about it, as he knew he would. ‘This better be good.’
‘You always were a sporting man,’ Buck said carefully. ‘Would you care to make a bet that if I can pull this off, it would secure your future as well as Ava’s?’
‘What are you suggesting?’ he asked warily.
‘I bet you fifty thousand British pounds sterling I can pass Ava off as the Countess of Marbury.’
‘What?’ Trey’s voice was incredulous. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘It’s the only answer to a dire situation. You’ll get your inheritance by marrying the countess and Ava will be safe.’
‘I thought Fiona was your friend,’ Trey said with a sadness in his voice Buck never expected. As if the whole idea was disloyal to her memory.
‘She was.’ Buck tried to keep his voice from catching in his throat when he said, ‘Yes, I know it sounds cold-hearted, and don’t think I haven’t thought long and hard before coming to this decision, but I know the countess would approve.’
He noticed Ava twisting her broken rosary between her fingers as if praying for redemption. Didn’t she know if there was any sinner to be blamed for this whole damn mess, it was him?
The girl was guilty of loving him and nothing more.
He had to make it up to her and this was the only way he knew how. Whatever they’d had, like the grand ship Titanic herself, a silent lady of the seas, it was now but a memory. For her own safety it must remain that way.
Buck leaned closer to her and her scent spiked, sweet honey mixed with the salt of the sea, as if the heat of dancing the tango still clung to her as it did to him. He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms and dance with her, their bodies pressing flesh against flesh.
He ached to dip her backward so her head touched the floor, her long, glorious red hair billowing out like silk.
Trey was not oblivious to the glances passing between them. ‘Ava would get more than a finishing school education in your hands,’ he said with a smirk. ‘How do I know your so-called bet isn’t simply a means to pick up where you left off on the ship?’
‘I assure you, my interest in schooling Ava in the art of being a titled member of the Scottish peerage is strictly business,’ Buck added. ‘Young ladies of nobility are required only to learn the social graces and royal etiquette to secure a husband… or in Ava’s case, to impress a mother-in-law.’
‘What about me?’ Ava cried out, her eyes so full of pain she couldn’t stand it. ‘Don’t I have no say in the matter?’
‘We’re from two different worlds, Ava,’ Buck said slowly. He chose his words carefully, letting his emotions and his spirit piece themselves back together. He hadn’t spoken to Ava about what he’d planned to ask her when they reached New York. Now he never could. ‘We’re both rebels, but we knew from the beginning we could never cross that line of rigid class rules. I’m giving you the chance to do that now by marrying Trey.’
‘But I don’t love him.’
‘Marriage isn’t about love, Ava. It’s a business proposition. Trey gets his countess, you get security and a position in society and I—’
‘And what do you get, Captain Lord Blackthorn?’ she shouted at him. ‘A story to tell the gentlemen at your club about how you turned a pig’s arse into a fine silk purse? No, the whole affair is to be kept a secret, so it’s money you’re after. And you, with all your fine talk about honesty and morals. I was just a game to you and now it’s over.’ She shook her head back and forth wildly. ‘No, I’ll not have anything to do with you or your silly bet.’
She was hurt and rightfully so. He wanted to soothe her, brush his lips across the back of her neck, hold her tight by the shoulders and nuzzle his face in her long hair. He didn’t.
‘Please, Ava, do what I say. It’s for your own good.’
‘No… I won’t!’
And with that she was gone into the wind, racing down the deck as far away from him as she could get.
‘You always did have a way with women, Buck,’ Trey stated wryly.
‘I’ll convince her.’ Buck didn’t like it any more than Ava did, but what else could he do? He turned to his old friend. ‘Then it’s a bet?’
Trey smiled. ‘This is one bet I’m going to enjoy losing.’
As the two men shook hands, Buck could see his old friend watching Ava running away from them, her hips swaying, Trey’s eyes beaming. Whether he meant to or not, he’d just sent her into the lion’s den. The lascivious smil
e on the American’s face made him wonder if he’d made a fool’s bet after all.
So she was worth fifty thousand pounds.
Ava couldn’t bear to stay another moment and look into his lordship’s handsome face after hearing his flippant remark. She found herself a place at the stern where she could think, staring out to sea over the rail until the first twinkling star opened its eyes and winked at her.
She barely noticed. She was at a loss for words. Lord Jesus, can you believe this? Bought and paid for she was, like a piece of silk come down from Belfast. Very expensive silk.
She’d be a fool not to go through with his insane plan.
Trey wasn’t a bad sort. She’d come to respect him more these past few days.
Would it be so awful to be married to him? She didn’t know.
What Ava did know was that his lordship wasn’t telling her something. He was like a simmering kettle with hot steam blowing out of it, ready to boil over. She feared for him and, in spite of him betraying her, she’d not give up on him. The countess would want her to look out for his lordship and that she would.
She blessed herself. If that’s what they wanted, then Ava O’Reilly was up to the challenge. She owed it to the countess to carry on her name and title and do it proud.
Why not? Trey had the money and influence. Buck had the polish of a gentleman.
And she?
She had the willingness to learn to be a lady.
Ava looked up at the darkening sky. Rain started coming down, but she smelled something else in the air. A foul, hot smell. She smiled. She knew that powerful stink that got into a body’s lungs and stayed there. Smoke from tugs. They weren’t far from the harbor.
A beckoning chill made her pull up the collar on the countess’s coat, its thick black velvet hugging her neck. It warmed her, but her eyes felt tired, drawn, her heart heavy. The weeks ahead frightened her, being with his lordship day and night, teaching her how to be a lady, but not being able to feel his arms around her.
Dear Jesus, could He have given her a worse penance than that?
32
New York, Pier 54
18 April 1912
Glory be, Ava couldn’t believe she’d done it.
Walked right past the immigration authorities with her nose up in the air and her heart in her throat.
She was in America.
She’d never forget the moment the Carpathia steamed past the Statue of Liberty, rain pouring down and lightning streaking through the sky overhead, making her tingle down to her toes. A grand feeling it was. And now she was here. Not once did they look at her and say she didn’t belong.
What are you waiting for?
You were saved for a reason.
This is it.
Ava rubbed her eyes. She heard her mum’s voice in her head, giving her courage. She reminisced about how the two women would sit down together in their cottage after Mum washed the dirty plates and Ava tended to the fire, brewing them each a cup of tea, then she’d read to her mother.
‘You have a fine way of speaking, lass, when you read them words,’ her mum would say, stirring the sugar in her tea with her forefinger. ‘Makes me weep. You should be in a grand house.’
Her mum meant in service. She never dreamed Ava would be here in New York with everyone smiling and tipping their hats to her like she was a lady.
That was the easy part.
Now she had a new problem.
Mr Brady’s mother.
According to the American, she’d waited for hours in the rain to meet her. Her manservant holding a huge black umbrella over her, though Mr Brady insisted the raindrops wouldn’t dare touch her.
Thrown off guard, Ava stopped at the top of the covered gangway, losing her nerve. It if hadn’t been for Buck taking her arm and whispering in her ear he wouldn’t let her down before he left to chat with snoopy reporters, she’d have run the other way.
Jesus Mary, the woman was a sight to behold.
Tapping her foot as if it were a cane, Myra Benn-Brady waited for her down below on the pier. Taller than Ava expected, with a cinched-in waist begging to be let out, wrapped up in furs and attitude, she stood as straight as her pompous virtue. And then some.
She exuded the air of a woman who reveled in her perfumed lifestyle. Caught between the world of first cabin ladies in their fancy gowns and steerage women clutching their shabby shawls and peering out of floppy bonnets, Mrs Benn-Brady was more than a queen.
She was the supreme ruler.
The society woman possessed a cold elegance that made Ava shiver down to her toes.
The breath rushed out of her as the Irish girl sought to recover her nerve. She fluttered her eyes, then swayed her shoulders and raised her glove upward as if asking a gentleman to kiss her hand. Or light her cigarette.
After all, this was New York.
Gasping, heart pounding, she walked slowly down the gangway to meet her future mother-in-law.
Watch your back, girl, she’s giving you the devil’s eye. Saw you talking to Captain Lord Blackthorn she did, and him acting so protective toward you.
She’d never forget how Buck had looked at her when he made the bet with Trey, his eyes hurting as much as she was, worried and tired with a deep sadness she didn’t understand. She’d been so sure he wanted her for himself, the way he’d leaned toward her as if he’d ached to hold her. Then his look had changed, his tongue tripping over words breaking her heart.
No, she was wrong.
It was obvious his lordship proposed this silly scheme to fill his own pockets. Was there an ounce of feeling for her in the man’s soul? She doubted it. That hurt her more than anything.
Then the realization came to her she had no choice in the matter
Ava was urged on by the ever-present fear that had taken root in her chest. Fear that if she didn’t succeed in making Mrs Benn-Brady believe she was the Countess of Marbury, she’d walk out of here with her hands tied behind her back.
You have it in you to fool them all, Ava O’Reilly.
Remember them streets of gold? They’re right outside that door.
Waiting for you.
Ava felt like a loose button hanging by a thread. If she agreed to his lordship’s plan, she’d be soothing his guilty feelings about what to do with her. She could get off this ship and make her own way in America. She wasn’t afraid of hard work, but toiling in a factory for long hours and finding a decent place to lay her head down at night wouldn’t be easy.
No, she had to go through with it.
More than twenty thousand people had shown up at Chelsea Piers, waiting breathlessly to get their first glimpse of the Titanic survivors. A sad lot they were. Her heart cried when a passenger on the rescue ship went around giving the ladies from the Titanic flannel from her nightdress for their babies, then soap and hairpins.
Hairpins. Oh, the sharp pain she’d felt in her chest, the memory still fresh when the countess gave her silver pins to pull up her hair. The sea wind blew in her face, urging Ava to smooth down her hair and fix the imaginary pins in place, as if the hand of the countess guided her.
She was willing to give up the man she loved for duty. And so must I.
Feeling dizzy, Ava slumped against the railing, her eyes taking in the crowd of reporters, photographers, relatives and friends. A special train with private cars also waited to whisk two wealthy first cabin ladies away from prying eyes as well as limousines for a lucky few.
For Ava, there was no way out.
She walked down the gangway, chin up.
‘Delighted to meet you, Countess,’ said Mrs Benn-Brady, her back stiff, her eyes curious. She didn’t extend her hand or curtsy as Trey had suggested she might.
Instead she dismissed her servant, then smiled. As if everyone watched her.
Before Ava could utter a word, she ushered the girl into the enclosed pier and out of the rain. Away from the crowd of curious reporters, grabbing anyone they could to get a story.
‘S
o grand it is to meet a fine lady like you,’ Ava said, flustered. She took a step back. ‘Mercy, I’m not doing this proper.’
Oh, no, the words had rushed out of her in a harsh whisper all wrong.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Mrs Benn-Brady straightened her bosom, making the diamond watch pinned to her collar bounce up and down. Her face tightened and she leaned forward, believing she’d heard incorrectly.
Ava started to make the sign of the cross, then stopped. Lord Jesus, this whole scene was fraying her nerves something awful. Now she’d done it. Sounding like a holy sainted sister prostrating herself.
‘What the countess means, Mother,’ Trey interrupted, racing to catch up to them, ‘is that she’s tired from her long journey from Scotland.’
‘I see,’ said Mrs Benn-Brady.
But she didn’t.
Peering closer, Ava discerned that this arbiter of New York society would not forgive a misstep lightly. She was used to having her way. Armed with a considerable fortune, no one dared ignore her wishes. According to Mr Brady, his mother was so rich, she paid her gardener to replace the weeds in her garden with orchids.
‘I must insist you stay at my residence on Fifth Avenue, Countess. After your dreadful ordeal, nothing else will do. There we can discuss the arrangements for the wedding.’ Mrs Benn-Brady cleared her throat to make her point. ‘Which I have postponed.’
‘Madam?’ With a brief glance at Trey, then his mother, Ava wondered if she was done before she started.
Had the woman found out she was a fraud?
‘The sinking of the Titanic is taking up all the best positioning in the newspapers,’ the matron said with frustration. ‘I pulled the announcement of your engagement until the fuss is over. I had no choice.’
Ava let go with a long shudder. Hearing the screams of the dying in her head, their pleas for help owning her soul.
