“Phillip, I know you have other duties, but could you make sure the carpenter has been informed about the door. Also, ask the captain to post guards outside that door and this one—good men who have transferred from our other ships.”
“Aye, sir. Would Miss Andrews prefer to eat here tonight?”
“Miss James,” Miles corrected. He turned to her. “Andrea…?”
Andrea nodded.
“Andrea James?” Phillip asked in hushed tones. He looked at her again as if seeing her for the first time.
Miles made a terse nod, dismissing him before the young man could say more. “Go.”
“Aye-aye, sir.”
“I thought you might want to change after your nap,” he said, closing the door and lifting the dress slightly.
“I was wondering what I would wear for our tour. Mama only lets me wear pastels. I do not have any dark colors. Unfortunately, this dress is ruined now. It will not take me any time at all to sew up the tear. However, if you don’t mind, I’d like to wait a few days for you to show me the ship.”
“Of course. I’ll put this in the other room for you,” he said. “I brought your brush and ribbons in case you wanted to pull your hair back when you lie down.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
When he heard the tremor is her voice, Miles did not make it into the bedroom with the dress. It ended up in one of the chairs. “Andi, don’t cry. It’s over. You’re going to be fine. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”
“That’s not why I’m crying,” she said sniffling.
Miles sat down next to her on the sofa, his body turned in the seat facing her. “Then why?”
“You’re being nice to me. I don’t deserve it after I rejected your cousin.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he was Shamus, not his cousin Rory. He worried that if he did, he would suffer her complete rejection when she found out. Andrea James would rather eat oatmeal without sugar because she was allowed to choose it, rather than have a plate of pastries of someone else’s choosing, placed in front of her. Miles knew, at that moment, he needed her to choose him of her own accord. A part of him would be happy for her if she found love with another man—as long as it was her decision.
“He’s going to be fine. It hurt his feelings a little bit to hear that he made such a bad first impression, but I don’t think he’s ready for marriage yet.”
“Then why so soon?”
“There are two reasons. Your father wanted it over quickly. Mrs. James was unhappy about it and he felt once it was done, your mother would have to make peace with the idea. And secondly, Richard is dying and wanted to see the matter settled before he left this world.”
Andrea broke eye contact. “It must have been hard to leave, knowing he had only a short time left.”
“It was very hard,” Miles said solemnly. “Andrea, there’s something you should know. I, uh, had word of your whereabouts sent to your father. I arranged for him to receive it one week after we departed. By my calculations, he’ll catch up with you about two weeks after we arrive.”
Andrea felt deflated. All of her efforts were for naught. She nodded her head to acknowledge she had heard him, but could not find any words. Her life would return to what it had been. She wondered if she would get her season now, or if her father had someone more odious lined up.
“You haven’t touched your sherry,” he said, touching her wrist and lightly compelling her arm upward.
She took a sip, scrunched up her nose and took another sip.
“This is not a dinner party where you’re trying not to get tipsy,” he said. “You’re drinking this medicinally. The doctor wants you to drink three or four glasses to help you sleep.”
“I don’t particularly want to go to sleep. I’m afraid I’m going to dream about him.”
“You’ll probably be sleeping so heavily that you won’t dream at all.”
Andrea took a deep breath, and drank the rest of the glass down. He could tell by her expression, she didn’t care for the taste.
“What is it going to feel like?” she asked as he refilled her glass.
Miles grinned. After her light breakfast, she was going to know quickly. “You’ll feel a bit dizzy like you did when you were little and you’d spin around in circles for a minute. When you walk, you will feel unbalanced. You may say things that are a little out of character.”
“Remember, you promised me that you would pretend you didn’t hear me if I said anything embarrassing,” she said, and swallowed down the second glass in a few gulps.
“I remember. After a while, you will get very sleepy and I’ll send you to bed. When you wake up, you may feel like the devil for a little while.”
“I thought this was supposed to make me feel better? My heavens, it’s hot in here.”
Miles noticed her face had become flushed, not just her cheeks, but also her chin and her ears as well. She thrust the glass into his hand and rushed to the porthole. As soon as she had it open, she leaned her head towards the opening, feeling the cool breeze. “I can hardly breathe, I feel so hot.” She lifted her hair off her neck. “Is this normal?”
Miles wore a concerned expression as he stepped up behind her. “Some people do react to alcohol like this.” He leaned down and blew on her neck.
“Oh, God, that feels good.” She touched one hand to her prickly burning cheek. “My hand is even hotter than my face. Feel my hand.” She turned around so unexpectedly that she nearly head-butted him. “Oh, I am dizzy.”
He held out both his hands to take hers and was surprised to find her left hand still holding her hairpins. Her hands were incredibly hot, even the hairpins felt hot when he took them from her. His thoughts turned carnal wondering what it would feel like to bury himself into the depths of her while she was on fire like that.
“Let me get you a wet washcloth,” he said, leaving her side and entering the adjoining bedroom, feeling suddenly warm himself. He spared a quick glance to make sure she wasn’t looking. He quickly used the wet cloth on his face and neck before he carried it to her. Miles held it against one side of her face and she reached up and took it from him.
“Thank you, Miles. This is just what I need,” she said as she bathed her face and neck. I’m feeling a little better already.”
When she moved the cloth to her collarbone, he suddenly felt like he was invading her privacy and took a moment to absent himself until he was feeling more like himself. He picked up the dress and put it away in the wardrobe next to his suits. It looked good there.
“I know I should be giving you your third glass,” he said, reentering the sitting room and joining her on the sofa. “But seeing how strongly you’re reacting to the first two, I think maybe I’ll wait a few minutes.”
Andrea adjusted the way she sat so she was actually sitting sideways on the sofa facing him.
“I didn’t recognize you at first when I saw you,” she said trying to think of something to say. “You look different with your beard—older.”
“I am older than the last time you saw me.”
“You’re only twenty-seven and I think your beard makes you look at least thirty-five.”
He was surprised that she remembered his age. Without conscious thought, he reached up and scratched his whiskered cheek. “You don’t really like it, do you?”
Andrea knew it was not polite to criticize someone’s appearance, but she was feeling so strange, it did not occur to her to lie. “I hate it. You are so handsome without it, and that thing just covers up your magnificence.” Andrea, suddenly realizing how rude she was being, clapped her hands over her mouth.
Miles laughed, knowing that it was the sherry talking. Prim little Andrea would never say anything so revealing. Did she really find him handsome or was she just trying to cover up her blunder? “Did you say something? I’m afraid I wasn’t listening.”
Slowly, her hands left her face when she realized he intended to follow through
with their earlier conversation and pretend he hadn’t heard her embarrass herself.
“Do you think I’m pretty enough to marry a lord if my father wasn’t rich?”
“I think you’re beautiful enough to marry a king.”
She smiled engagingly at him. “Kings don’t marry women like me.”
“Do they only like ugly women? I’ve seen portraits of your queen.”
“Queen Victoria was born to her rank,” she said, attempting to sound indignant.
“It must’ve been hard to birth the crown.”
Andrea tried not to laugh, but was too impaired to suppress it. She giggle-snorted twice before she could stop. “I don’t think it’s proper to say such things.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Miles leaned forward, picked up the decanter and poured Andrea another glass of sherry. “As much as I’m enjoying spending this time with you, I would like to see you are safely tucked in, before I have to leave to go see the captain.”
“I’m already sleepy,” she said, leaning her head on the sofa back and eyeing the glass he held out to her. Reluctantly, she lifted a heavy arm and took it from him. Rather than lift it to her lips she rested the side of her hand on her knee.
“Then one more ought to do the trick. Bottoms up.”
With a look of resignation, she tipped the glass back. When it was empty, she handed it back to him. “I don’t want to go to sleep. The thought of being helpless like that….”
“There are probably already two guards outside the door.”
Andrea looked pensively at the bed through the open door. “Miles, I know I shouldn’t ask you this, it’s not at all proper, but my mother’s not here and I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
“It sounds serious,” he said gravely. “Andrea, I’ll answer any question you pose to me.”
“I read Richard’s letters to my father, that’s how I know about this,” she explained before asking her question. “If my father makes me marry Shamus, do you think it would be all right if I insist he keep his mistress? I mean, I know I have to endure him to provide children, but I’d rather he slake his lust elsewhere the rest of the time.”
It was a good thing that Miles was not drinking anything because that question would have made him choke. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck and was thankful that his beard would mask some of his embarrassment. He was shocked that Richard had communicated to her father that he had had a mistress and mortified that Andrea knew about her. His only redemption was that Andrea still thought Rory was Shamus.
“I promise you, Andi, you will never marry my cousin.”
Andrea did not like his answer. The question was not about Shamus; it was about marriage and what came after. “If not him, then whomever I marry. Would most men be willing to take care of their needs with a mistress after I’ve produced our children?”
“I can’t speak for most men.”
With a frustrated sigh, Andrea persisted. “Don’t speak for all men, just speak for yourself. If you and I were married, and I didn’t want to be the receptacle of your carnal urges, and asked you to find a mistress instead of using me, would you?”
Miles heard more than her question; he heard the undertones of the words she chose to describe the marital act. Not once did she say making love.
“Andrea, I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer mine. Are you attracted to women?”
“No! Why would you ask me that?”
“Because you are so repulsed by the thought of making love.”
Andrea made an unladylike snort of derision. “Only men would call it making love.”
“No, Andi, everyone calls it that.” Then a repulsive thought entered his head making his blood boil. “Did a man force himself on you, is that why you find the marriage bed so abhorrent?”
“No! I think that was Mr. Sully’s ultimate goal this morning, but I have been sheltered to the point where I was practically cloistered away from men and boys my whole life.”
A flood of relief washed through him. He could not believe the strength of his emotional response to the thought that someone might have done that to her. Still he didn’t understand why she seemed so vehemently opposed to the marriage act.
“Have girls at school filled your head with horror stories?”
“The girls at school know nothing.” Her eyes we fighting to stay open, making him realize just how drunk she really was.
“But you do?”
“My mother told me.”
Miles tilted his head to one side as he contemplated that information. “Your mother lied to you.”
“No, she didn’t. I saw proof. The day we sailed from New York, my father sent my mother flowers to apologize for making her endure him the night before. She felt so poorly the next morning, she had to lie down and rest.”
Miles eyes narrowed at her. “Three dozen white roses?”
Her eyes opened wide with surprise. “How did you know that?”
“Those flowers were for you. I woke up the florist in the middle of the night so I could have them on the ship before you left. I knew it was your first ball, and I knew you hadn’t had fun. I wanted you to think of it and me fondly.”
“But there was no card.”
“The next morning, when I realized you were just a child, I asked your father to intercept the card.”
Andrea frowned. “Why would my mother lie to me?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe she didn’t want you infatuated with a man who wasn’t a duke.”
Miles opened his pocket watch and snapped it close with a scowl. He reached for the sherry and poured her another glass. “Drink this, then off to bed with you.”
“Please, Miles, I don’t think I could stand to feel any dizzier than I do now,” she said, pulling her hair over one shoulder and loosely braiding it.
He watched her fumble with the braid and decided she had probably had enough. Her glassy eyes blinked slowly.
He picked up her ribbon and held it out to her. “Do you need help?”
She eyed the ribbon then lifted the braid towards him. “I’d probably just knot it.”
“Would you like me to find you a lady’s maid to help you with your dress?” he asked as he tied off her braid.
Andrea shook her head wildly. “I’ll just sleep in my dress. It’s already ruined; a few wrinkles can’t hurt it.”
Miles extended his hand to assist her. “I’ll help you,” he said, knowing she would be less than steady on her feet. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“I am too tall,” she said abruptly.
He laughed and pulled her more tightly against his side when he felt her sway a little. “Actually, I think you’re perfect. I bet you grew at least four inches since the last time I saw you.”
“Since breakfast? Is there a seamstress aboard?”
“Since I saw you five years ago,” he clarified. They stopped at the edge of the bed. He turned her towards him. “Because you’re tall, if I wanted to kiss you, all I would have to do is lean forward a bit and your lips would be right there. If you were short, well, let’s just say it would involve stooping.”
“Do you want to kish me?”
Always.
“Yes, but I shall not, because I would be taking advantage of your condition.”
“If I wanted to kish you, would I be taking advantage of my condition or yours?”
A wide grin spread across Miles’s face wondering if she had intended for that to sound as it did. “If you still want to kish me when you’re sober, let me know, but there will be none of that now.”
“I’d rather sleep on top,” she said as he reached for the covers. Even in her inebriated state, it seemed too personal to sleep between the same sheets where a man slept.
“Sit down and I’ll take off your shoes.”
Miles crouched down on one knee and moved her skirts aside. He was surprised to find out she only wore one slipper. He looked towards the sitting room expecting to se
e she had stepped out of it on the way to bed, but it was nowhere to be seen. “You only have one shoe on.”
“It came off when that man attacked me.”
“You’ve been sitting here this whole time with just one shoe on?” Miles suppressed his smile. He found it a bit endearing that prim and proper Andrea would not have mentioned her missing slipper. He wondered if she ever secretly slipped off her shoes under her skirts while having her tea.
“It hardly seemed appropriate to discuss it in mixed company,” she said.
Considering everything else they had discussed, a bare foot was hardly scandalous.
“Well, good night, Andi,” he said, knowing she would probably feel uncomfortable reclining while he was still in the room.
“Thank you for the flowers. They were really beautiful.”
“It was hardly appropriate for me to send them to you at your age.”
Miles crossed the room, but her voice stopped him before he was gone. “You never answered my question about the mistress.”
“If you were my wife, you wouldn’t want me to have a mistress.”
17
“Damn it, Miles. There is a reason for rules aboard ship,” Levi Bloodworthy yelled. “You can’t just ignore the rules because you own the ship.”
Miles wanted to say he could do whatever he wanted, but he did not want Levi to quit. “She’s my fiancée, Levi. Have a heart.” Miles cast a boyish grin at the Captain.
Levi’s brow lowered in response. “Have you found a chaperone yet?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d go down to steerage and see if there’s anyone who’s worked as a lady’s maid—if not that, some old deaf woman or someone who speaks no English.”
“You’re incorrigible! You stood in front of her father and let him believe you had no idea where to find her.”
“He told me to do whatever it takes, and that’s what I did.”
“Christ! How can you be so flippant about this? That young woman could have been raped today and now I have to have that man whipped. Do you have any idea how barbaric that looks to the passengers?”
All humor had disappeared from Miles’s countenance. “No one is more upset about what happened to Andrea than I am. If it were up to me, I would throw that man overboard. It disgusts me as well, this business of flogging, but the men have to understand we will not tolerate accosting any passenger. I want every man down to the cooks and porters there.”
Miles Before I Sleep Page 13
