Miles Before I Sleep

by Byrd, M. Donice

  Andrea pulled her shoulders back, but kept her eyes cast down. “After you,” she said in a voice oozing with refinement.

  Miles stepped onto the unstable ladder and descended four rungs and leaned back allowing room for Andrea between him and the ladder.

  “I can go down on my own.”

  “Have you ever descended a ladder before?”

  She shook her head. “But I was fine coming up.”

  “It’s not the same. Going down is more difficult. It can be scary on a wooden ladder on solid ground. This is going to be worse.”

  “Fine,” she spat.

  Andrea found mounting the ladder difficult, but with a death grip on the floor of the crow’s nest, she made her way onto the ladder, lowering herself until she was surrounded by his arms.

  “I’m going to go down one rung and then you step down one—slow and easy.”

  Between the sway of the ship and the dizzying height, Andrea was more scared than she had ever been in her life. He was right about coming down being more difficult. The distance between the rungs seemed to grow with each step. It took several minutes to work their way to the deck. The eyes of every passenger and sailor followed their progress.

  Captain Bloodworthy stood akimbo awaiting their arrival. “A word with you, Mr. Huntington, Miss James.”

  Andrea wanted nothing more than to flee to her room and cry. She was publicly humiliated and shamed and Miles was taking no steps to nullify her ruin. She would die of embarrassment if she had to hear the captain force them to marry.

  “Sir,” she said. “It was dangerous and foolhardy and I should not have done it. I assure you, I won’t do it again. Does that about cover it?”

  Levi, taken aback by her self-censure, shuffled uncomfortably. “Uh—aye….”

  Before he could say more, Andrea turned on her heel and began to walk away, but stopped after two strides.

  “Mr. Huntington,” she said, stepping back to him. She lifted her chin to speak quietly into his ear. “That man over my shoulder, leaning against the rail—do you see him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Invite him to dinner tonight. And if that doesn’t work out, I’d like to meet that dapper fellow in the jade waistcoat over by the companionway.”

  “As you wish,” he said tightly.

  Andrea had forgotten she was wearing trousers until her skirts did not make that satisfying swish they normally made when she turned and strode away. Her face burned with embarrassment that she had been seen publicly in trousers. She affected her most regal bearing as she made her way to her room.

  ~*~

  Levi Bloodworthy cleared his throat to get Miles’s attention. “We are not going to have this discussion in the middle of the deck.”

  Miles inclined his head and they made their way below to the captain’s quarters. Levi forcefully shut the door in a display of his displeasure.

  “Do you want my notice? I would give it to you, but I’m afraid since her father is Sebastian James, I’d never work again. I cannot believe you did that. All I can think about is what I would do if she were one of my daughters. You have ruined her reputation whether anything happened or not.”

  “You know I’m going to marry her—”

  “Aye, I know you want to. However, she doesn’t know it and neither do the passengers. You're treating her like you’re already married and you haven’t even asked her yet.”

  Miles hesitated. He knew Levi would not understand his motives. “When I ask, I want her to feel as if she has been given a choice.”

  A humorless chuckle escaped Levi’s lips. “You are playing with fire, Miles. Her choice should be yes or no, not you or some other man.”

  Miles considered that for a moment. “She’s not ready to make that decision yet.”

  Levi threw his hands in the air. “You’re a fool! The second mate told me you had her up in the crow’s nest just after the starboard watch came on duty at 4:00 AM and you didn’t come down until the larboard watch—”

  “We fell asleep,” Miles interrupted.

  “You were alone with her for hours, plenty of time to have your way with her.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  Levi clenched and opened his hands alternately as if wishing he could punch something. “Even if you had, that’s what most men would say, isn’t it? Most men would say that to protect the girl.”

  “Christ! One week. If she doesn’t ask me in the next week, I’ll ask her.”

  “Ask you! Are you mad? No woman is going to ask you.”

  Levi rubbed his temples as if pain vised his head. “If I see you two alone together without a chaperone, your little game is over.”

  “Too bad your wife isn’t with you. She’d be the perfect chaperone.”

  “My wife? Elspeth would let you do whatever you want. Get out! If you don’t have a chaperone for her in one hour, I’ll find someone and you’re not going to like who I pick.”

  23

  The lady’s maid/chaperone arrived at Andrea’s door within the hour. At only five years older than Andrea, Ruth may not have been the ideal candidate for chaperone, but she was married and in her late stages of pregnancy. She had been employed since she was twelve, working her way up from scullery maid until she was the maid of Lady Quinten’s daughter. She had married the butcher’s son, and they were going to America to live and decided it would be less expensive to cross before the baby was born.

  The woman’s near constant chatter helped Andrea keep her mind off her humiliation, but at times, she just wanted to ask the woman to be quiet. Offhandedly, she wondered if it would take a lifetime for the woman to tell her whole life story.

  Before dinner, the woman pinned Andrea’s hair up. When she looked in the mirror, she was taken aback when she realized she wore the same style five years earlier when she danced with Miles. She closed the mirror away and sat down to await the dinner hour. Would he notice? When she went to pinch her cheeks to give herself a bit of color, she noticed half her face felt warm to the touch.

  “How odd,” she said aloud.

  “What milady?”

  “Miss,” she corrected. “Better yet, just call me Andrea. Half my face is hot.”

  “Yes, mila—Miss Andrea, you’ve got a little sunburn,” Ruth said.

  The sharp intake of breath that came out of Andrea’s mouth sounded more like a gasp of joy than horror. She had never been sunburned in her life.

  “Spots?” Andrea did not wait for an answer. She rushed back to the locker and threw open the door to see herself in the mirror inside.

  Three tiny freckles, barely noticeable, reflected back at her. “Oh,” she breathed with great pleasure.

  “It’s not so bad, miss. I’ll put lemon juice on the spots every day until they go away.”

  Andrea caught Ruth’s gaze through the mirror. She knew she should pretend to be horrified, as any respectable girl would have been, instead she feigned an air of nonchalance to cover up her excitement. “It does not signify. They’re probably the only souvenirs I shall have of my adventure.”

  Andrea did not care if the maid was appalled. There had to be a time in her life when Andrea did not have to do and be exactly what her mother wanted and society dictated.

  ~*~

  Miles arrived at her door five minutes before dinner. Ruth followed a few paces behind as they strolled casually to the dining room. Miles showed Ruth where the servants ate, instructing her to return for Andrea in one hour.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked as they stopped before they entered the dining room. Andrea nodded absently. “I didn’t tell Mr. Garson you wanted to meet him. I just invited him to my table, that way you wouldn’t feel undue pressure.”

  “Thank you.” Relief flooded her body. She hadn’t known how anxious she would feel, knowing that she had to make a man like her enough to be willing to entertain the prospect of marriage.

  “I also thought I might suggest, with your permission, that your father will likely disinherit y
ou for running away. Hopefully, it will dissuade fortune hunters from pursuing you.”

  “If my father disinherited me, to whom would he give his money?”

  “Loyal employees, maybe? Distant relatives? It is irrelevant. If you wanted to be married for your money, you might as well just give up the hunt and wait for your parents to come, so you can purchase your duke.”

  Expressionless eyes met his at the veiled slight. “You know my father is dead set against that,” she said with annoyance. “By the by, just how much dowry did my father offer your cousin? You act as if my father’s motives are so much nobler than my mother’s, and my betrothal was above all this talk of money. However, in truth, there is very little difference.”

  As she turned to walk into the dining room, Miles grabbed her elbow, staying her. “My family members are all businessmen. We don’t need your money. We understand what it takes to run a business and make it prosper. Your father wanted to ensure that you and your children would be taken care of for the rest of your lives. He didn’t work hard his whole life to see his money squandered away on masquerade balls, fox hunts and gambling debts.”

  Andrea pulled her arm out of his grasp. “I am already aware that I am just a pawn to keep his business empire alive.”

  Miles immediately recognized from the tone of her voice that she truly believed what she said. He knew her bearing would be the next to change. With every step she took toward the table, her posture became more unyielding.

  Miles waved Phillip away so he could help her with her chair himself. Before he took his seat, he leaned down and spoke into her ear.

  “Andi, when we get to New York, I’m going to let you read your father’s letters. You’ll see that his concern is for you first and the company second.”

  Miles took his seat at the head of the table. As the table filled up, he contemplated how and when he should tell her that he was the man to whom her father had betrothed her. He hated the idea of waiting until they were married (in truth, it never occurred to him that they would not be wed before they disembarked The Lady Fair) but he could not predict if she would be happy or angry about the truth. It was the main reason he did not tell her. In his imagination, she would be overjoyed, but in reality, he doubted that was what would happen. He hated not being completely honest with her, yet he didn’t want any more obstacles in his way. And really, was it such a horrible thing to marry the man her father chose, especially if he was in love with her?

  The last to arrive at his table was Walter Garson. Miles had done a bit of checking up on him and frankly, he did not care for the man. He hoped that being American would be a mark against him in Andrea’s eyes. He lived off a generous allowance from his family and had gotten drunk three times in the week since they had sailed. The man also spent a great deal of time playing cards.

  Conversation at the table seemed to be starting a bit slow. Miles tried to stay out of it, but Walter Garson was less than a brilliant conversationalist and Andrea was too shy to get him speaking.

  “Do you like your clam chowder, Miss James?” Miles asked.

  “I’ve never had anything like it. It’s quite tasty. Have you tried it, Mr. Garson?”

  “I’m from Boston where they make the best clam chowder in the world. I really couldn’t bring myself to eat it, when I know it won’t be as good.”

  Andrea glanced at Miles knowing that he had put his heart into every detail of the ship including the food and chefs. The man’s assumption that the ship was serving inferior food had to annoy him.

  “Personally, I can’t imagine it could be more delicious than this.” Andrea said in defense of the chef. “The soup course has been excellent every day. It may be my favorite course.”

  As if he’d been challenged, Walter Garson removed his spoon from his soup, tapped it on his bowl and then reached across the table towards Andrea’s bowl of chowder. Miles’s hand snaked out and grabbed the man’s wrist, the spoon just shy of her bowl.

  “I would be happy to have the waiter bring you a sample.”

  Andrea placed her hand on Miles’s arm. “It’s all right, Miles. I’m finished with it.”

  She could not say why this man putting his spoon in her soup was different from when Miles took a bite of her food without asking, but it was. It felt like Walter Garson was doing it to shut her up while Miles did it as a bit of a joke.

  Mr. Garson took a bite of the chowder and shrugged. “I’ve had better.”

  Andrea puzzled at Miles Huntington’s reaction to Mr. Garson’s invasion of her food. He had done almost the same thing, so it did not make sense that he objected to someone else taking the same liberties unless….Did Miles feel possessive of her? Perhaps if she could make him jealous, he could be prodded into seeing her as a potential wife.

  She removed her hand from Miles’s wrist and placed her hands in her lap. With a deep breath to steel her nerves, Andrea smiled brilliantly at Mr. Garson.

  “That chowder is so hardy; it’s practically a meal unto itself. I believe I shall have to take a stroll on the deck after dinner. I find it helps with digestion.”

  When Walter Garson did not immediately volunteer to accompany her, Andrea glanced at Miles. He put his elbows on the table, clasped his hands and leaned his chin upon his hands. His nod toward Garson was almost imperceptible, but Andrea knew he was encouraging her to continue.

  “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Garson?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I was woolgathering and didn’t catch that.”

  Miles caught the flash of annoyance as it crossed Andrea’s countenance.

  “It was nothing of importance.”

  Miles cleared his throat softly, drawing her attention. Casually, with his head still propped on his folded hands, he lifted a finger and touched the bridge of his nose and then his cheek.

  Andrea’s confusion was obvious until she remembered her trio of new little freckles. Miles had noticed them and his eyes lit up with amusement. A blush of pleasure stained her cheeks as she fought the urge to giggle. She loved the way he remembered their conversations and how pleased he was for her that she now had a three spots. That he even noticed them, amazed her, for they were quite small and light in color.

  Miles dropped his hands as the waiters took away the soup bowls and set the entrées in front of each person.

  “So, Mr. Garson,” Miles began trying to get the conversation at the table back on track. “Have you been enjoying the entertainments aboard ship?”

  “I’ve spent most of my time at the gaming tables.”

  “Oh, how exciting!” Andrea said, trying to get back into the conversation. “I’ve never gambled myself, but it always sounds like great fun.”

  Walter eyed her speculatively. “I don’t play at gambling. It is no more fun than laboring in the field.”

  Feeling like she had been scolded by her mother, Andrea picked up her fork and knife and cut a small piece of pork roast. “Then why do it?” Andrea asked, then placed the morsel in her mouth.

  “I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand, Miss James.” Both Andrea and Miles bristled, but Walter Garson didn’t notice. “Some of us don’t have fathers with bottomless coffers. My stipend barely covers my living expenses.”

  Yet he was traveling home first-class instead of in steerage, she was quick to note.

  “My father’s coffers are only bottomless because he continues to work to put more money into them. It seems to me, if you do not feel you get enough money, perhaps you should find employment.”

  “I should’ve known better than to try to explain it to a woman. Women know nothing about money.”

  Miles put his hand on Andrea’s before she could respond. “It is true that Andrea will never have to worry about money, but you are an absolute shortsighted fool. Miss James asked me to invite you to dine with us because she wanted to meet you. She is actively searching for a husband. Had you been civil to her, you might have ended up on a short list of men whom she might have considered ma
rrying.”

  The man looked back-and-forth between Andrea and Miles not missing his hand resting comfortably on hers.

  “I have been losing steadily while aboard. It has fouled my disposition. I am usually a more urbane type. Perhaps you would give me another chance.”

  Miles hoped Andrea was wise enough to know the man only wanted her money.

  “You have made it abundantly clear that you prefer gambling to work. If he hasn’t already, my father would disinherit me if I married you, leaving the two of us and our offspring to survive on an allowance you say barely supports you.”

  The man sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the table in a repetitive tattoo.

  “Well, then there’s no reason for us to continue our meal because your father would have to pay me extremely well to take damaged goods off his hands.”

  Andrea’s gasp went unheard as Miles rose to his feet, grabbed a handful of Walter Garson’s frock coat and every layer of clothing underneath and hauled him out of his chair. Despite grabbing Miles’s arms, Garson was no match for his strength and unable to resist as Miles escorted him out the dining room and down the corridor until they were on the deck, standing at the railing next to the paddlewheel. Miles did not release his hold on the man as he looked over the railing into the water as if contemplating throwing the man overboard.

  “You are no gentleman,” Miles gritted.

  “Me? You’re the one who took advantage of the girl after that sailor ruined her—not that I blame you—the damage was already done.”

  “Andrea is as chaste as the day she was born,” Miles protested. He hated discussing this with a stranger, but he had to defend Andrea’s honor and short of throwing the man overboard, he could think of little else to do. “I heard her screams and broke down the door before that man could hurt her. As for the crow’s nest, I’m afraid she was the victim of my inability to tell time at sea. I thought we’d be up there for thirty minutes to watch the sunrise but we fell asleep waiting.”