The Elusive Earl (Love At Sea Book 2)

by Alice N. Palmer

  Adam stepped forward as his father's voice faltered. Then the old man's face took on a grey cast.

  As Adam led his father to his chair near the fireplace, the old man rallied a little, but his voice was almost a whisper.

  “Raymond, you have six months to show me you've changed. Stop the drink, the gambling, the womanizing, and get married if she'll still have you.”

  Raymond seemed remorseful for a few moments. “I'll do that, Father. I swear, this time I will.”

  As Adam helped their father lower into the chair, and placed a woolen lap rug over his knees, the old man muttered, “I'm too old for this. Six months. Not a day more. That's all you get, Raymond.”

  That's when Raymond stumbled to the sideboard at the far end of the room, tossed back what was left in the bottle, and then slammed it onto a silver tray before he passed out on the floor.

  “See to him, Adam,” their father directed. “And then send a note to town. Tell our solicitor I want to change my will immediately. Put a fresh clause in it.”

  Adam objected, “But you said six months...?”

  His father replied, “I may be old, but I'm not a fool. I'll change the will now, just in case. Then, in six months, if your brother has changed his ways and he's married... Well, we'll see.”

  That was two weeks ago, and – thankfully – the old man had recovered.

  In fact, after signing the new will, he seemed to have regained strength he'd lost steadily since the death of Adam's mother.

  But tonight, Adam was appalled, seeing his drunken brother supported by two such unsuitable women.

  Adam stared straight into Raymond's bloodshot eyes and ordered, “Send them away. You're going home. Now.”

  The women scurried off, quickly followed by Raymond's male friends. Apparently, they knew who had the upper hand in the situation.

  “Bad form, old man” Raymond argued as Adam grabbed him by the arm and led him to an empty billiards room.

  Leaning on the table, Raymond repeated, “Bad form, I say. Scaring off my friends like that. And who are you to tell me what to do? I'm the heir. You just want to make me look bad.”

  “You're doing that quite well without my help.”

  “And you,” Raymond bellowed, “just want to grab the inheritance for yourself.”

  “Have you forgotten? I inherited from Mother's father. I have all the income I need.”

  Raymond shook his head. “There's no such thing, and I should know. Can't be a respected gentleman without...,” he paused and gestured with one hand. “Without certain expenses.”

  “Like mistresses and gambling debts?”

  “And other things,” Raymond objected. His eyelids were starting to droop and his head tilted from one side to the other, as his body swayed dangerously.

  Adam stepped forward and, with one arm around Raymond, escorted his brother to the front door and then to his carriage.

  Inside the carriage, Raymond seemed to get his second wind.

  “I'll show you,” Raymond threatened. “I'll be the perfect son Father expects-”

  “And marry Sarah.”

  “Sure, sure,” Raymond agreed. “Her or some other sour-faced miss, if that's what Father wants.”

  “You're sailing to America in three days, to ask Sarah's father for her hand.”

  Raymond laughed, “Her hand is more than enough. Have you seen the rest of her? That face. That figure.” He shuddered.

  Adam objected, “She's one of the loveliest women I've ever seen.”

  “Fine. You marry her.”

  “She's pledged to you, not me. She may even love you. She's certainly stayed faithful to you when other women might show better judgement.”

  Raymond's eyelids were drooping again. He leaned back into the corner of the carriage, for support. As he closed his eyes, he sighed, “No, she's in love with the title. And the money.”

  Adam was too irked to mention Sarah's large, personal fortune. “You'll get the title, but if you don't marry soon, you won't have a groat to go with it. Father's seen to that.”

  Raymond's words were slurred as he muttered, “It's all right. I'll be on that ship. You'll see.”

  Then, opening one eye just enough for Adam to see the twinkle, Raymond added, “After all, I've booked an adjoining room for Miss Finch.”

  Adam shook his brother by the shoulders. “You're bringing one of your doxies onto the ship?”

  Raymond's eyes were closed again, and his voice tapered off as he objected, “She's a perfectly nice young woman. And it's my last fling anyway.”

  “You promise?”

  Raymond's only reply was a low, even snore.

  Adam looked out the window and gazed at the full moon. “Oh, dear brother, as if your promises have ever meant anything.”

  Then he reached into his waistcoat pocket and, taking out his watch, he gazed at the portrait inside.

  Smiling sadly, he closed the watch with a firm snap. “Ah, Sarah, if you only knew.”

  Chapter Four

  From the upper deck of the ship, Sarah cast a longing glance at the city beyond the docks.

  Looping her arm through Emma's as the ship rumbled and pulled away from the dock, Sarah sighed, “So, the voyage begins.”

  Emma patted Sarah's hand and sighed. “Raymond is still... unwell?”

  Sarah nodded.

  Emma raised an eyebrow. “But you're certain he's on board.”

  Sarah nodded again. “Yes, but Adam says he was feeling poorly-”

  “Meaning he was drunk or hungover,” Emma concluded.

  Sarah shrugged. “It hardly matters. At least he's on the ship.”

  Emma continued, “So, Raymond is in his cabin, nursing a headache and lurching stomach. Or, just as likely, he's getting drunk again.”

  Sarah removed her arm from Emma's and pulled her shawl more tightly around her. “He might actually be ill. Adam seemed to suggest that.”

  “Between you and Adam... Honestly, you both make far too many excuses for Raymond. And for far too long.”

  “But he's on the ship, Emma. Even if he's not an entirely new man, I'm sure he'll ask Father's permission to marry me, and so on.”

  Emma strolled deliberately to the nearest railing at the edge of the deck. Releasing Sarah's arm, she grabbed the polished wooden rail with both hands. “Fingers crossed, I hope you're right.”

  Sarah studied her sister's face. Something wasn't right. Did Emma know something she wasn't saying?

  Abruptly, Emma turned back to look at Sarah. Behind her, the waves were choppy as the ship sailed towards deeper waters.

  Emma put her hand to her mouth, and – through her fingers – explained. “Suddenly, I'm not feeling well. Maybe I should lay down in our cabin.”

  As Sarah watched, Emma's face turned a sickly shade of white, almost green in the shadows.

  “Mal de mer,” Sarah sympathized. “You know it's best to stay on deck and get fresh air.”

  Emma grimaced. “And now you're Florence Nightingale? Tell that to Raymond.”

  Sarah was about to retort when Emma rushed past her, blurting, “Going to room. Don't follow.”

  Sarah's stomach was feeling unsettled as well, but she decided to stay on deck and study the horizon. That seemed to help.

  Moments later, Adam was next to her.

  Sarah smiled into his eyes. “It's been days since we've seen you. It seems as if the closer I get to marrying your brother, the more elusive you become.”

  Adam gazed past her as the color rose in his face. “I was, err, busy. Had to make sure Father would be well taken care of, while we're away. Thing like that, you know.”

  “Of course,” she agreed, but she wondered if that was the full story.

  Adam seemed eager to change the subject. “I passed Emma in the hallway,” he said. “She didn't look very well. And, to be honest, your coloring isn't much better.”

  “I'll be fine,” Sarah assured him. “Just having you here to talk with... that helps ta
ke my mind off how unsteady this boat seems.”

  “Barring any storms, we'll have smoother sailing once we're farther out to sea.”

  “And how is Raymond? Is he feeling better?”

  Once again, Adam turned to stare at the horizon, avoiding Sarah's gaze.

  Finally, he spoke, as if choosing his words carefully. “My brother may need another day or two to recover. I've heard that many of his friends had some stomach ailment.”

  “And of course, the motion of the ship won't help,” Sarah sympathized.

  Adam looked relieved. “Exactly. But, if you don't mind, I'm happy to be your escort until Raymond is, err, back on his feet.”

  By lunchtime, Adam seemed back to his usual self. They talked and laughed through the three-course meal.

  And then through the six-course dinner.

  And again – in whispers – during the late evening entertainment provided by Miss Katie Finch.

  But, at breakfast the next day, Sarah felt uneasy, and it wasn't just the movement of the ship.

  It started when she noticed how Adam's furrowed brows as he entered the room and sat in the seat across from her.

  He leaned forward as the steward placed a glass of orange juice in front of each of them.

  Then his voice was low and somewhat hoarse as he asked, “Is Emma still ill? I hope the steward delivered those ginger lozenges to your room. I've heard they work wonders for a dodgy stomach.”

  “She's better, thank you. But, just in case, she's taking breakfast in our stateroom. And... Raymond?”

  Adam leaned back and stared at the place setting in front of him. “Err, yes. He's better.”

  “And you? Is something wrong?”

  “I didn't get as much sleep as I'd like,” he admitted. “There was a party in the next room.”

  “Miss Finch?”

  Adam' nodded.

  Sarah sighed. “She has become something of a celebrity.”

  “More looks than talent,” Adam blurted. Then, blushing furiously, he added, “I should not have said that. I apologize. Blame it on the lack of sleep. And perhaps a little mal de mer, myself.”

  Sarah laughed. “No apologies are necessary. On my way to breakfast, I heard worse from others who'd lost sleep as well.”

  Adam nodded. “I don't know what Raymond was thinking...”

  “What?”

  Adam blinked, paused, and picked up the menu in the brass stand at the center of their table. His voice was a little too loud and forceful as he announced, “I think I'll start with the oatmeal porridge and then the halibut. And some tea, of course.”

  Sarah was not deceived. “I'll probably have the same. But what about Raymond?”

  Adam looked anxiously around the room and beckoned to one of the waitstaff. “Let's place our order. Pity they don't serve breakfast from a sideboard, as we do at home.”

  “Agreed, but should I know something about Raymond? Does it involve Miss Finch?”

  Adam seemed relieved when the steward rushed over to take their order.

  After the steward left, Sarah's tone became more urgent. “Adam, why did you mention Raymond?”

  Adam's smile was forced as he replied, “Err, right... I was thinking about how ill he was before he boarded this ship. Perhaps he should have booked on a later sailing. I mean, he's always had a difficult time on the water. Even as children, when Father still kept a yacht...”

  Sarah didn't try to smile in reply. “Adam, if you're covering for Raymond yet again...”

  Adam pushed back his chair and stood up with a jerk. “Err, think nothing of it, my dear. And speaking of Raymond, I think I should check on him while they're making our breakfast. I won't be gone but a few minutes.”

  Sarah's stomach dropped, and it had nothing to do with the choppy seas and the gusty winds outside.

  “Something isn't right,” she announced to her oatmeal, eating every morsel of it. “He's gone elusive again. I wonder if it's something I said.”

  Half an hour later, when Adam still didn't return, she finished every bit of his meal as well.

  “Can't let good food go to waste,” she muttered, standing up as the steward slid her chair back.

  “The shops by the Palm Court are just opening,” he suggested. “Perhaps mademoiselle might see what they offer?”

  Sarah nodded, looking out the largest window. “A storm seems to be brewing,” she agreed. “Browsing the shops is a good idea, while I see what develops.”

  Indeed, a storm was on the way, not just outside but in Raymond's stateroom as well.

  Chapter Five

  Adam ripped his collar off its buttons with one smooth, angry gesture, and threw it at the dresser in his stateroom.

  “My brother is an idiot,” he muttered.

  “Quiet please, old man,” Raymond objected from the connecting bedroom. “Fattest head ever. Need more sleep.”

  Adam turned the corner into Raymond's room and argued, “No, you need to stop acting like you're still at Cambridge, and behave yourself. As you promised Father.”

  “I heard you clearly from your room. There's no need to shout.”

  “I'm not shouting. You've had too much to drink, again. And I've had to cover for you with Miss Knowles. Again.”

  “Why bother? Surely she knows what I'm like. It's not as if this is a love match, dear brother. Pater said marry her, and I'll do that. I'll even make sure there's an heir, but that's my limit.”

  “You know Father meant more than just going through the motions. Unless you're happy to be ensconced at Hull, that is.”

  From his very rumpled bed, Raymond propped himself up on his elbows and stared at Adam. “What Father doesn't know, won't bother him. And he won't live forever.”

  Adam's eyes narrowed and his voice dripped with sarcasm, “You're pushing me to my limit, dear brother. And be warned, I won't stand by as you trample Miss Knowles' sensitive spirit.”

  Raymond brayed. “Sensitive...? Have you actually talked with her? She's practically a harridan when she's irked about something.”

  “Well, she's irked this morning. You went missing most of yesterday. This morning she heard about your party for Miss Finch, and – by now – I'm sure Sarah has put two and two together. I can't keep lying for you.”

  “So what? I'm tiring of the woman.”

  “Sarah?”

  “No, Miss Finch. Already, she's become as demanding as Father, but minus any incentive for me to meet her demands.”

  “Because you've already had enough of her. After... what? It's barely two weeks since she cruelly deserted Lord Portsford for you.”

  Raymond nodded. “I know, and already she's hinting at marriage. Though... given a choice between her and Sarah, Miss Finch might be vastly more entertaining. And she knows the lay of the land. She wouldn't expect me to be faithful...”

  Adam noted the wistful look in Raymond's eye and sighed. “Do you hear what you're saying, after all your promises to Father? No, the future Duke of Beckford cannot marry an actress. That will not stand.”

  “You're right, of course, but if you put Sarah and Katie next to one another-”

  “Sarah would win. No contest whatsoever.”

  Raymond shrugged. “You've always seen something in her that I don't. And the good Lord knows, I've tried.”

  “That's neither here nor there. You're the heir. We've always known that you're the one who'll marry her.”

  “And you're the one who'll go to that jeweler's shop near the Palm Court, and buy Miss Finch something expensive.”

  “A parting gift?”

  “Perhaps. I haven't decided yet,” Raymond sighed. “Katie was in a really foul mood last night. Never seen Sarah that mean-spirited, now that I think about it.”

  “You don't deserve her,” Adam snapped. “But yes, I'll find a brooch or something for Miss Finch.”

  “Just be sure it's not a ring. No misunderstandings, please.”

  “Good point.”

  Twenty minutes later,
Adam realized he may have missed breakfast altogether. The sooner he selected a suitably gaudy trinket for Miss Finch, the sooner he could return to the breakfast room.

  Maybe they were still serving. In fact, Sarah might still be waiting for him.

  “That's an awful thought,” he muttered. “Perhaps I should buy her something, as well.”

  No, he realized. That might be misunderstood. As much as Adam's heart belonged to Sarah, and always had, Raymond was the one who'd marry her. It's what was expected.

  The jeweler placed four velvet-lined trays in front of Adam. The brooches ranged from elegant to tacky.

  Adam chose one of the latter.

  The jeweler raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain, sir?”

  Adam nodded. “It glitters. She likes sparkly things. Wrap it so it looks... expensive. And send flowers with it.”

  The jeweler blinked several times, and slowly removed the brooch from its velvet moorings. “As you say, sir. And to whom should it be delivered?”

  “Miss Katie Finch.”

  The jeweler smiled slowly. “Ah, the... actress. Now I understand. The brooch is sure to please her, if you'll pardon my saying so.”

  Then the jeweler looked at the entry to the shop, smiled, and said, “Welcome, miss. I'll be with you shortly.”

  Adam glanced over his shoulder and saw Sarah in the doorway. Drat, he thought.

  The jeweler turned to Adam and said, “And to whom shall I send the bill for Miss Finch's gift?”

  Adam paused and sighed. He couldn't let Sarah know the brooch was from Raymond, even if it was a parting gift.

  “Adam Winthrop,” he replied. “Room 235.”

  As the jeweler jotted the information on a notepad, Adam looked back at Sarah.

  Her face seemed frozen. Almost anguished. And then she turned and bolted out the shop door.

  Adam's throat tightened. Had she realized Adam was shopping on Raymond's behalf? That would explain her dismay.

  But what if it were something else? What if...

  No, he wouldn't even think that. Sarah was going to marry Raymond. Their estates would merge. Raymond would produce an heir.