Rescued by the Viscount's Ring

by Carol Arens

The resulting flare-up could end in disaster. Rees had studied enough to know the sudden increase in temperature might ruin the steam tubes. The damage it could cause to the ship did not bear thinking of. It might even cause a deadly explosion.

  While the ship did have masts, the sails that went with them had become obsolete. The thought of this vessel with so many souls aboard being stranded in the middle of the ocean made him feel ill.

  Rees stepped inside the boiler room, recoiling from the sudden heat. Glancing about, he saw men shovelling in a constant rhythm. Sweat looked like blood on their skin from the reflection of flames in the ovens.

  The man he sought was not present. Which did not mean he would not come.

  ‘What’re you doing here, Dalton? This ain’t your shift.’

  ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

  If the fireman had heard about Rees’s recent marriage, it was a relief that he did not make some ribald joke about being gone from his bride.

  Rees would have had to return the joke in kind, but his mind was far too preoccupied to come up with anything even half-funny.

  ‘Go to your berth, Reggie. I’ll fill your place.’

  He shook his head. ‘Billy’s not feeling well. You can take his spot.’

  Rees went to the third furnace down and sent Billy away. He settled into the work even though his muscles screamed in protest.

  He ignored his body’s need for rest because even if the man he was looking for did not show up tonight, Rees would rather be here than in the cabin with Madeline.

  She had opened her heart to him, revealed to him what she thought to be her great disgrace.

  No doubt she expected him to do the same.

  What was he to say?

  Admit that he was no better than Bertrand Fenster? That scallywag had completely misrepresented his motives in courting her.

  While Rees had not done that completely, he had done it in part. There was quite a bit more to him wanting to marry her than what common morality demanded. He ought to have had the courage to tell her all of it from the beginning.

  Why had he not? There was the bit about Wilson and Bethany, also his feelings about marriage being a sacred union, but had it been more than that?

  From the first time he spotted an angel through the spyglass, he’d felt something for her. That something still simmered in his chest.

  After her confession, after revealing her greatest secret, he believed she could be trusted to not reveal his.

  But had he waited too long to tell it? Surely once she knew she would want the annulment sooner than the three months.

  He found he did not want it at all. Life with this woman would be—well, fun was what it would be—joyful.

  Yes, and would she not make a wonderful mother for his twins?

  His mother had asked him to bring home a governess for the girls. What would she think when he brought Madeline instead?

  If he brought her instead.

  When the truth came out, as it had to in one way or another, she would be within her rights to cancel the three-month agreement and seek annulment right away.

  The thought broke his heart, because even if it were not for his brother’s sake, or his children’s, he did not wish to lose her.

  Ever since she had awoken in his bed, blinked those wide blue eyes and said hello, he’d felt joy, an eagerness for life beginning to fill the void in his heart that Margaret’s death had left.

  He needed to shovel harder, faster in order to deal with the guilt eating at him, but he kept to the steady rhythm that the boilers required.

  In a few days they would arrive in Liverpool. Once they docked, his carriage would be waiting. He could hardly deny who he was when the family crest was blazoned on the door. He could not pretend to be a commoner when his driver addressed him as Lord Glenbrook.

  He would need to tell her about his children before the moment they came running up to him crying, ‘Daddy! Daddy!’

  That she was their new mother—only mother, really, since they had no memory of another—was not something to discover by surprise.

  The fact that he had not already admitted the truth was not all his fault. One hardly delivered that news to someone when she was deathly ill.

  But tomorrow—tomorrow he would tell her everything.

  * * *

  It had to be close to dawn. Where could Rees be? He worked far too hard.

  All manner of things could happen to a person who overtaxed himself. Happen to her person, to put a fine point on it.

  She sat up suddenly, blinking. Her sleepy mind had appointed him as her person and she thought it was not simply because she legally bore his name.

  What could it mean—her person? She was not sure, except she was not going to lie here and worry about whether he had fallen asleep and tumbled into the furnace or into the ocean.

  After dressing quickly, she dashed—as well as she could dash—outside to find him.

  And there he was, leaning on the ship’s rail and gazing out at the sunrise.

  She felt foolish all of a sudden. Rees was a grown man and capable of looking after himself. He had been doing it his whole life without her aid.

  ‘Rees Dalton,’ she said quietly because somehow anything louder in this moment, where darkness gave way to daylight, seemed wrong. ‘Come inside and go to bed.’

  He did not respond by as much as moving or turning his head.

  She came to him, touched his elbow. ‘Rees?’

  He started, gripping the rail tight.

  Oh! He had fallen asleep standing up. A second later and he probably would have tumbled into the ocean.

  She had arrived just in time to rescue him!

  Some inner sense must have woken her to his danger and just in time.

  What could that mean, inner sense? Naturally it was coincidence and nothing more.

  He looked at her, blinking once before his gaze sharpened on her face.

  ‘Madeline, what are you doing out here?’

  ‘What on earth? You’ve been hurt!’

  Half a smile tipped his mouth. ‘You were worried about me.’

  She touched his brow where a decent-sized lump swelled in a glorious display of purple and blue.

  ‘You were about to go over the rail, did you know that?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have.’ He shook his head. Morning rays caught his hair, made it glimmer, except for the spot with a dash of blood dried on it.

  ‘I don’t know how you can be so sure. You were standing here asleep.’

  ‘It was a very long night.’

  ‘You work too hard.’ She slipped her arm around his back to urge him towards the door. Even through his flannel shirt, the one she was so familiar with, she felt muscles rippling under her fingertips. They were firm, warm, and she liked touching them far too much.

  She would need to be careful to make every effort to resist touching him in the future. Mustn’t she?

  Going inside, she led him to the bed.

  ‘Lie down,’ she ordered because he looked as if he were about to take his place on the floor.

  ‘Where will you sit?’

  ‘On top of you if that is what it takes to get you to lie down.’

  Judging by the big grin slowly spreading on his face, she realised those were words better thought than spoken aloud.

  ‘How did that happen?’ she asked while she filled a bowl with water from the basin.

  He gave a great yawn when he sat down on the mattress.

  She brought the bowl and a clean rag, then sat beside him.

  ‘I didn’t watch where I was going and ran into a shovel.’ He shrugged while she gently dabbed dirt from around the bruise. ‘It happens all the time.’

  ‘Does it? Who does it happen all the time to?’ Very gently she wiped coal residue, sweat and a dro
p of blood from his face.

  ‘Not the same person,’ he said with a lopsided grin.

  His lips, so nicely formed and flashing in humour, were dirty, too. She could hand him the cloth or—‘You,’ she said, while dabbing his bottom lip with the rag, ‘were injured because you grew careless from working too many hours.’

  She smoothed away the dirt from his upper lip, taking her time and admiring how finely shaped it was.

  ‘You must take time off.’ She spoke this last firmly because, really, he must.

  ‘Such an assertive wife, dictating what her husband may or may not do.’

  ‘Apparently someone must,’ she answered while getting the very last smear of grime from the corner of his mouth.

  ‘I believe I’m going to kiss you.’

  ‘No, you are not.’

  ‘Am I not?’ He lifted his hand as if to cup her cheek.

  ‘Definitely not. Now hold still while I wash the blood from your hair.’

  ‘I did not know there was blood.’

  She stood up. ‘That is because you are too exhausted to know it. I’m going to dump the dirty water. I want to see you asleep on the bed when I get back.’

  ‘I like having a wife.’ Looking up, he nodded once with neither a smile nor a frown, but with an expression that somehow touched her as surely as a kiss would have. ‘I’m glad to be married to you, Madeline.’

  ‘And now you are delirious. Go to sleep.’

  Once outside, she emptied the water into the sea. She stood for a moment, watching the drops catch the sunlight and fall through the air.

  What he said made her feel as though she was falling through the air. She only hoped that at the end of this she would not be splattered like the drops when they hit the ocean’s surface.

  It might happen because she rather thought she enjoyed being married to him, as well.

  She did not know a great deal about him, it was true. But she knew enough.

  Aside from the obvious fact that he was so handsome any woman would lose her wits over him, he was kind and honourable. If she never learned more than that about him, her heart would be soft towards Rees Dalton.

  How frightening it was that her feelings for him were growing so quickly.

  ‘Good morning, new day. I wonder what you will bring.’

  With that, she went back inside.

  Rees was already asleep, but upon his pallet on the floor.

  Oh, just there she’d missed a bit of ash when she washed his face. It smudged his cheekbone, so she knelt down and stroked it away with two fingers.

  ‘Rees?’

  One blue eye slowly opened, looked up at her.

  ‘Get on the bed.’

  ‘No point in it. I’m only here for an hour. Got to get up for my regular shift.’

  ‘I think not.’

  He closed his eye, adjusting his wide shoulders on the blankets, and from one breath to the next fell deeply asleep.

  Looking at him, she could only sigh. Some things were irresistible, such as the hank of auburn hair crossing his eyebrow and touching the corner of the swelling bruise. Lightly, slowly, she swept it up to where it belonged, then stopped. It did look rather fetching the way it was. The strands sifting through her fingers felt sleek and lovely.

  Yes, sometimes a woman just had to sigh.

  And sometimes she had to act on behalf of the man she—well—cared for. There was no point in denying that she did.

  That being the case, she was not going to wake him in an hour.

  She would need to let someone know he would not work a third shift in a row. Other than Edward, there was but one soul she knew aboard ship.

  The Captain. Collier, was that not his name?

  Hopefully the man was an early riser. If not, he would be awoken by pounding on his door—or at least insistent tapping.

  After a night’s sleep she was feeling a bit restored. Her errand might be a bit of a challenge, but she was certain she could manage.

  As lofty as his position aboard ship was, Captain Collier might not care for the welfare of a common fireman.

  Not at first, but he would after she explained how devoted Rees was to his job.

  There were not many people up at this early hour, so no one noticed a steerage passenger opening the gate to the upper deck.

  Madeline felt no remorse for the breach. Had the crew cared about the division of the classes, they would have locked the gate.

  But they hadn’t, so up the stairs she went to look for the Captain.

  Up she went, slowly, having to catch her breath a time or two. She ignored the unpleasant sensation and pressed on.

  Overcoming the lingering weakness was something she needed to do quickly if she was to find her own way once they reached Liverpool. She would need to be strong while she, with Rees’s help, searched for Grandfather.

  It should not be overly difficult to find him. Once they located Lord Fencroft, they would probably find both Grandfather and Clementine.

  She directed her thoughts heavenwards. ‘Please don’t let my cousin be desperately unhappy.’

  Madeline could not bear to think it. The very last person who would find fulfilment as a countess would be Clementine.

  Reaching the upper deck, Madeline glanced about. Long rays of morning sunshine streaked across the deck.

  If she were the Captain, where would she be this time of morning? Breakfast, perhaps? Or going about his duties?

  Since she had no idea what those duties were or where they might take place, she decided to follow her nose to the delicious scents wafting out of an open door.

  This had to be the first-class dining saloon. She knew this room would be laden with tables of food. Upper-class passengers were not required to bring their own meals as was largely the case in steerage.

  She paused beside the door for a moment. While her gown was plain, it was finely made of very expensive wool. Perhaps she would not be recognised as a steerage passenger.

  No matter if she was. Rees was not going to work his shift and she would not be prevented from telling the Captain he would have to find someone else to do it. If she was confronted, she would simply smile and do her best to make a friend of an adversary.

  With one foot inside the room, she stopped. Only feet away she spotted a plate of strawberries.

  This was December. How on earth?

  As if in a trance, she was drawn to the juicy, red display. With each step she gave thanks that her appetite was returning so quickly.

  Luckily, she was the only diner up at this early hour. Everyone in steerage could sneak into the room with no one the wiser, except for the fact that food would be missing. That would be noticed.

  She reached for a berry, had it nearly to her lips, could smell the sweet tang when—‘Good morning, Mrs Dalton. It is good to see that you are recovering.’

  She popped the berry into her mouth before she could be told to leave.

  ‘Captain Collier,’ she stated in the authoritative tone a first-class lady would use, but gave a sweet smile to soften it. ‘How lovely to see you this morning. In fact, I was looking for you.’

  ‘Yes.’ He twisted a button on his jacket while staring at the high shine of his boots. ‘I ought to have been the one searching you out.’

  ‘Well, here we are together.’ His demeanour towards her was far more congenial than the first time she had encountered him. ‘What a stroke of good luck.’

  ‘I feel I must apologise for leaving you to fend for yourself that first day.’ He looked up. He was not such a difficult man to read. His gaze did not shift away from her. He did not try to hide the shame shadowing his expression. ‘As Captain of the boat, I was responsible for your welfare, and I failed miserably.’

  ‘I accept your apology, Captain Collier.’ Even if she did not, she would have
to appear to since she was about to tell him to find someone to take Rees’s place. But the man was sincere and so was she. ‘We all make mistakes.’

  She was hardly one to ‘cast the first stone’.

  ‘I thank you, Lady—Mrs Dalton, I mean, of course.’ He shook his head at the misspoken word. No doubt he was accustomed to speaking with ladies who actually bore that title. It was an honest mistake. ‘I do not deserve your forgiveness. You might have died because of my callousness towards your situation. Rest assured that I have learned a bitter lesson and will not make the error in the future.’

  Good, his newly found resolution to help the common man would serve her well when she made her request...demand, rather, on Rees’s behalf.

  ‘You said that you were seeking me, Mrs Dalton?’

  She nodded and answered only after savouring another berry.

  ‘I have come on behalf of my husband.’ Was that bacon being carried in? Surely the enticing aroma could be nothing else. ‘He requires his shift off today.’

  ‘Is he ill?’ The Captain nodded towards the platter being carried in. The attendant set it on the table beside where they stood.

  ‘No, but he will be if he keeps up as he has.’ She closed her eyes when she bit into the thin slice of meat. How could she not? Some things were meant to be savoured. ‘He worked his regular shift yesterday, then with only a short time between worked another. He meant to work another, but I didn’t wake him.’

  All at once, the Captain’s eyes sharpened on her and a frown cut his brow. ‘Did he say why he felt compelled to spend so much time in the furnace room?’

  She shook her head. How odd that the Captain took such interest in Rees’s devotion to work. ‘He did not.’

  ‘I suppose he has an important reason.’ The Captain pursed his lips, scrunching his brow in a frown.

  ‘Perhaps he did. But he will not be working today. You must find someone to take his place.’

  ‘Indeed. Make sure he does not overtax himself. I will get someone to stand in.’

  ‘Thank you, Captain.’ She smiled, the gesture quite sincere.

  She imagined he was not accustomed to having steerage passengers ask for favours.

  ‘It is the least I can do, Lady—Mrs Dalton.’