She shrugged. “It was an innocent fib.”
“Pray, do not plead innocence. I dislike fools as much as liars.”
“I daresay the ladies you compromised would say you have been less than honest,” she retorted.
“They may say what they will,” he replied. “But I never promised them anything, and they were not innocents to be compromised.”
“When a gentleman takes liberties, it is implied that he intends to marry the lady.”
He laughed. “Is that what your mother told you? If you believe that then you are naïve. Though I am beginning to suspect that is not the case.”
“Sir—”
“Enough,” Erroll said, in no mood for further argument.
The full weight of their situation—and the unexpected knowledge of what he might want in a wife—pounded into him like Thor’s hammer.
Chapter Ten
Eve lay awake most of the night, the gravity of her circumstances setting in after the shock and fear of Lord Rushton’s possible death during the duel had faded. After these recent events, only one gentleman of character would now consider her a lady of character: Lord Somerset.
If she returned home unmarried, it wouldn’t matter to her father that Lord Halifax had kidnapped her, or that she was guilty of conspiring to kidnap Lord Rushton. Her father would make a dawn appointment with the intention of killing the earl.
Eve felt deep in her bones that Lord Rushton wouldn’t accept the challenge, but she feared her father’s determination—and his aim. The man, bless his determined soul, loved her and Grace, and believed with all his might that a woman’s life could be ruined by scandal. He was more right than she had ever considered. She had no other choice. She had to accept Lord Somerset’s offer of marriage.
The unloading of the coal began at dawn and Lord Somerset informed them that their time to leave would be ten o’clock. The hour arrived, and Eve was helped up on deck by the viscount.
She pulled her cloak tight against the spring chill as she got her first look at Belfast, glistening in the morning sun beyond the teeming docks. She didn’t see Lord Rushton, and breathed a sigh of relief that she didn’t have to endure his company for the day. Lord Somerset grasped her elbow on one side and Grace’s elbow on the other, and helped them across the deck to the gangplank.
“Wait here,” he instructed Eve, and proceeded down the steep gangplank with Grace.
Eve caught sight of a waiting carriage with Lord Rushton and Oscar standing beside the vehicle. She had the ridiculous urge to whirl and flee back to the cabin, but the earl turned and looked at her. She couldn’t read his expression, but she knew if she returned to her cabin now, he would believe she had run from him. It was best she met him head on.
Eve started down the gangplank alone. She took four steps and slowed when the gangplank lifted with the rolling sea. For an instant, she feared she would lose her balance and topple into the murky water without a railing to prevent her fall. She took another cautious step and looked up to find Lord Rushton hurrying up to her.
He reached her side and grasped her arm. She was chagrined to have to lean into him for fear of stepping too close to the edge of the gangplank as it lifted and then fell with another gentle swell. He led her down the gangplank with the steady legs of an old seadog and they reached the wooden dock without mishap.
He released her. “The Irish Sea is mighty cold this time of year, Miss Crenshaw.”
His tone remained light, but Eve didn’t miss the censure. “When is it not cold?”
“Never,” he replied, which she interpreted as ‘never do that again.’
Lord Somerset waited beside the carriage as they neared.
“In you go, Somerset,” Lord Rushton said.
The viscount complied.
“Come along, madam.”
Lord Rushton reached for her hand and warm fingers closed around hers. An unexpected flutter in her stomach caused her knees to weaken. She managed to lift her skirt and cloak as he handed her into the coach, but she nearly fell into the seat beside Grace in her fervor to free her hand from his. Curiosity flickered in his eyes in the instant before he sprang inside the compartment and settled beside Lord Somerset in the opposite seat. Oscar closed the door and the carriage listed slightly as he climbed atop the carriage with the driver.
“Was it really necessary to bring Oscar along?” Eve asked as the carriage rolled forward with a gentle lurch.
Amusement appeared in Lord Rushton’s eyes. “You feel for poor Oscar, but care nothing for what Somerset and I must endure?”
“Oscar is not the one who insisted we take this voyage,” she replied. Though he had stood with Lord Rushton in his insistence they go.
“So Lord Somerset and I are to suffer for our chivalry?” the earl asked.
“I imagine you and Lord Somerset will suffer a great deal before this is over.”
“Nothing less than we deserve?” he asked softly.
“I suppose not.”
“I doubt Oscar would have let us leave without him, in any case,” the earl said. “He has appointed himself the protector of you and your sister. Along with Somerset, of course.” Lord Rushton gave him a nod.
“More like Judas,” Eve muttered.
“Judas?” He looked horrified. “Somerset, I do believe you have been demoted in Miss Crenshaw’s estimation.”
“Not Lord Somerset,” Grace said. “Oscar. Eve is angry because he sided with you in getting us onto the ship.”
“I see.” Lord Rushton looked at Somerset. “You can rest easy, Somerset.”
“I doubt that,” he replied.
“Propriety would have been satisfied had we hired a maid and let Oscar take us home,” Eve said.
Lord Somerset snorted. “Propriety fled our company long ago.”
Fear lanced though her. Was Lord Somerset angry? Had he changed his mind about wanting to marry her?
“Well said, Somerset,” Lord Rushton laughed.
Suddenly Eve felt less like a trip into the city than she had earlier. “I think I would rather return to the ship.”
“We are already on our way,” he said.
“Never mind Eve,” Grace said. “She didn’t sleep well last night.”
Eve looked sharply at her sister. Grace had barely stirred throughout the night and had woken bright-eyed and in excellent spirits, a testament to a restful night. How did she know Eve had lain awake, eyes wide in the darkness?
“I am sorry to hear you didn’t sleep well,” Lord Rushton said.
“You slept like a baby, I presume?”
“I barely have my land legs back. The roll of the ship always lulls me.”
He almost sounded wistful.
“Where will we go first?” Grace asked.
“To the bank,” Lord Rushton answered. “I sent word that I would be arriving.”
Grace beamed. “Very wise of you, my lord.”
“Thank you,” he replied, and Eve was sure he was thinking that if he hadn’t made sure to procure funds Grace would have mutinied. “After the bank, we will break our fast,” he went on. ”Then I hope to deposit you ladies at a boutique where you can find everything you need for your stay in Scotland.”
“How long a stay do you anticipate?” Eve asked.
He flashed a smile. “If you are asking how much money you can spend, spend to your heart’s content.”
“How generous of you,” Grace cried. “Is he not kind, Eve?”
“Beware of Greeks bearing gifts,” Eve muttered.
His brow lifted. “I am no Greek.”
“Oh, but you could be.”
“Never fear, my lord,” Grace said. “We promise not to send you into penury.”
He canted his head. “That is much appreciated.”
“Have you been to Belfast before, my lord?” Grace asked.
“I have.”
Of course, he had, Eve reflected as Grace quizzed him about the city. Belfast was an easy stop on the voyage betwee
n England and the Isle of Mull. He likely knew the banker, the dressmaker…the dressmaker. He would know the dressmaker if he had brought other ladies there. She cut off the thought. Lord, she’d lost her mind. Who cared why he knew anything or anyone.
He pointed out landmarks as they appeared. He spoke in soft tones and Grace replied in kind. He smiled when she clapped in delight at the sight of a confectionary shop he promised they would visit on the return trip to the ship. He explained how Belfast had become a center for the manufacture of linen and Grace…well, Grace was actually listening with seeming interest. And Lord Rushton seemed to like her interest.
Was Grace right, would the two of them get on well together? He had no desire to marry, but was obligated to carry on the title, as well as manage the estates that supported so many people. But who would manage him? Manage? Eve inwardly grimaced. Tame would be a better word.
In the year since his return from the war, he’d dallied with two actresses, an opera singer, two widows whose husbands had died within a week, one of the most notorious women of the demimonde and—how many others that hadn’t made it into the gossip sheets or the rumor mill?
Unexpected concern surfaced. Eve had been so intent on avoiding marriage that she hadn’t stopped to consider how Grace would be affected by his lifestyle. Did Grace understand what it would be like to awaken late at night to the sound of his bedchamber door opening and wonder what other woman’s bed he had just risen from? What of the meetings in ballrooms with women who she would later learn had been seen with her husband in a darkened garden in recent nights? Eve hadn’t told Grace of the snide remarks Lady Quincy and Lady Consworth had made two nights ago, but she was sure to encounter such comments herself.
Grace would never remain in Scotland while he moved through Society as if she didn’t exist. She would insist on accompanying him to London during the Season, host house parties at their country estates, and go for rides in the park. She might understand and even expect that he keep a mistress, but Lord Rushton didn’t keep mistresses, he had women. Eve stared at Grace, who listened raptly as Lord Rushton pointed out The First Presbyterian Church. Dear God. Her sister would make him the worst sort of wife.
*****
“You were right, Rushton,” Somerset said. “The food is superb. I haven’t had such good pigeon pie in ages.”
“Indeed,” Grace Crenshaw said. “You have excellent taste, my lord.”
“I am glad it pleases you.” He looked at Miss Eve Crenshaw, who sat at the table in the private dining room between her sister and Somerset and picked at her food. “You have barely touched your lunch, Miss Crenshaw. Is the lobster pie not to your liking?”
“As Lord Somerset and Grace have said, my lord, you were right. Mrs. Larson is an excellent cook. My appetite is not its usual self today.”
“You aren’t seasick, by chance?” He gave her a look of mock horror. “Miss Crenshaw, you should have said something. In your concern for me, you have neglected yourself.”
Her lips pursed, and he suspected she repressed an urge to disabuse him of the notion that she had even the tiniest bit of concern for him. When she said in a sweet voice, “Never fear, my lord, if I feel any sickness coming on, I will find you post haste,” he knew he was right. “Perhaps,” she added, “I should force myself to finish the lobster…just in case.”
It was the devil in him, but Erroll had always found the devil a livelier companion than any angel, so he said, “We are stranded in Ireland, madam. As we must board ship again in order to reach home we must hazard it.”
She paled. Erroll frowned. What had he said? But he realized what he’d said—or what his words implied: she was stuck with him. He’d never known a female to avoid marriage with such vigor. He’d never known a female to avoid marriage at all, in fact. She roused his curiosity. Erroll mentally grimaced. From intrigued to curious. Montgomery was right, that’s how trouble began.
The door to the dining room opened and a maid entered, two plates of baked goods and small serving plates in hand.
“Oh my,” Grace Crenshaw breathed as the girl set the confections and plates on the table, then began removing their dinner plates. “Is that minced pie with ambergris sugar?”
Erroll spotted the minced pie she stared at. “I believe it is.”
“It looks too beautiful to eat.”
Erroll winked. “Don’t let that stop you.”
She laughed and he was surprised to note no womanly wiles in the sound. She reached for a minced pie, then hesitated and shifted her hand to a wigg bun. Her eyes flitted to the candied fruit.
“If I may.” Lord Somerset lifted the tongs sitting on the platter to the left and put one of the small minced pies on a dessert plate, then added a tong full of candied fruit, and a wigg bun. He set the plate in front of the lady and her eyes sparkled.
“Thank you, my lord. I would have been all day deciding which one to eat.”
“Why eat only one?” he asked.
She picked up the wigg bun and nibbled a bite. Her eyes closed as if in ecstasy—Erroll was sure that was the case—then she opened them and said, “Mamma says a lady should never over indulge. It is impolite and adds to the waistline.”
Erroll had seen the mamma. She didn’t follow her own advice.
“Your waistline is in no danger, madam,” Somerset said.
Grace glanced sharply at him, the bun frozen half an inch from her lips. The surprise on her face mirrored Erroll’s thoughts. Somerset found the girl interesting.
She, however, seemed shocked by his interest. One would think she had never received a compliment. She was breathtaking. Erroll would wager not a day passed that she didn’t have some young buck confessing his undying love. She seemed to suddenly realize the bun still hovered an inch from her mouth, took a small bite, then set it on the plate.
Then an idea struck that Erroll thought just might get him out of this mess.
*****
“Are you certain you should not have worn the blue day dress?” Eve asked Grace, as the clerk placed yet another neatly wrapped package on the counter in the rear of the shop. Eve shifted to gaze out the window where they sat. “It is an uncommonly lovely day, and the blue might better complement your eyes than the yellow.”
“I will have ample opportunity to wear both,” she replied.
“I quite liked the gold evening gown. I’m surprised you did not purchase it. You do want to be sure you have enough clothes.”
“The day is young.” Grace took a sip of tea, then said, “I wonder that you’re not chiding me for spending too much money, or were you being delicate?”
Eve shrugged. “Lord Rushton gave you leave to spend all you like.”
“Us,” Grace corrected. “He gave us leave to spend all we like.”
“I made purchases,” Eve said.
“Two dresses, a few underclothes and a nightgown.”
“I do not plan to be long in Scotland.”
“Neither do I, but a man in his position expects to spend money.” Grace laughed. “I imagine he would think me quite strange if I chose to be frugal. Such a trait is not to be commended in a marchioness.”
Eve watched a passing coach on the quiet street beyond where Oscar sat with the driver atop the seat of their carriage. When she was fifteen, and had gone riding with a visiting cousin on a day much like today—well, a sunny day like today. No other day in her life had been like today or the previous three days. Her horse had thrown her, knocking her unconscious, and her cousin had raced home for help.
Her parents weren’t home, but Oscar reached her, and he carried her the quarter mile home. That wasn’t the first scrape he’d pulled her out of, nor was it the last. He’d practically grown up in her household and had proven a good friend throughout the years, a bit of the older brother she never had. He certainly watched over her more closely than many brothers did. So why had he become the rat who was siding with the man who could ruin her life?
“Eve.”
E
ve broke from her thoughts.
“Where is your mind today?” Grace asked.
“My mind is on Lord Rushton. He may expect to spend money, but we both know he is accustomed to spending money on women with no intention of marrying them. Can you really want to marry a man who admits he would make a terrible husband and has sworn to attend to his pleasures as he always has despite his marriage?”
“That is what most men do,” Grace replied.
“Not quite. Most men don’t abandon their wives in the Scottish Highlands, and a decent man is discreet.” Though she’d wondered what was decent about marrying one woman and regularly bedding another. “Lord Rushton will not curb the behavior that places his name in the gossip sheets on par with George IV.”
Grace giggled. “Thank the powers above that Lord Rushton is not so…homely.”
Eve paused in taking another sip of tea. “I have never known you to care about such things.”
“You never asked.”
She had a point. Eve drank the tea, then put the cup back on the saucer and picked up the small plate of sweet goods. She took a piece of shortbread and extended the plate toward Grace. She took a piece and Eve set the plate back down.
“His is very rich and very handsome,” Eve said. “And he will one day be the Marquess of Rushton. But he does come with one very big drawback.”
“Only one?” Grace asked.
“You think he has more?” she asked, surprised.
Grace laughed. “He is a man. Of course he has more. He has many drawbacks.”
“Such as?”
“He thinks he is always right.”
At least Grace had listed his faults with the most important first.
“He drinks a lot.”
Eve startled. She hadn’t heard that and wouldn’t have thought that to be one of his defects. “How much?”
Grace gave an impatient shake of her head. “Not so much he would beat his wife.”
“A man who drinks too much has a habit of developing that fault.”
Grace smiled. “I am sure you would shoot him if he tried it.”
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