Cross the Ocean

by Holly Bush

  Blake stood and leaned over the desk in a fury. “Do not dare besmirch Miss Finch. She’s not but an innocent in this affair. Don’t ever imply otherwise.”

  McDonald raised his brows and glanced at Anthony. “Forgive me, Sanders. I know her not and should have never questioned your assessment,” McDonald stated.

  “Damn right.” Blake ran his fingers through his hair and dropped in his seat. “She’s a fine woman.”

  “Smart, too. Dumped this dunderhead with no more than a by-your-leave even after he bedded her,” Anthony continued glibly.

  McDonald covered his mouth with his hand.

  “Burroughs. You insolent ass. Gertrude and my personal affairs are not to be bandied about,” Blake shouted. He turned to McDonald. “I’m asking you as a gentleman to not repeat this tale. I would not want Melinda to know I used Miss Finch so poorly. She adores the woman.”

  Anthony and McDonald left the room quietly. Worry over William filled Blake’s mind. Gertrude had told them of Indian tribes and bandits as well as the ever-wonderful sunsets. Should he send Anthony’s agent or allow McDonald to go? He had still not decided. Dinner was a somber affair. Blake had relented and allowed Melinda to ask her mother and McDonald to stay. He heard little of the conversation, though. After dinner he found himself facing Angus McDonald.

  “My Ann wishes to speak to you privately,” the man growled.

  Blake raised his brows. “Oh?”

  McDonald leaned close with a smile on his face for the guests around. “Dunna hurt that woman. It would worry me greatly to kill her children’s father.”

  Blake threw the man a haughty glance. “Your burr reveals your distress, McDonald. But what do you think? I would strangle my children’s mother in the room next to where Melinda plays the pianoforte?”

  McDonald’s eyes were like blue steel. “Nay, I don’t think you’d hurt her physically. But your words and actions have cut her to the bone in the past. I won’t have the woman I cherish above all things suffer from your arrogance.”

  Blake knew the man meant every word. McDonald would kill him with those great burly hands of his if he distressed Ann in any way. He wasn’t afraid, but in an odd way admirable of the man to threaten a peer of the realm in his own home over the tender feelings of a woman.

  “I will be charming to a fault,” Blake said.

  “Good then. Just pretend my Ann is your own woman. The American. Be mindful of what you would want any man to say to her,” McDonald said, straightened his coat and turned to nod at Ann.

  Blake felt the slight pressure of Ann’s hand on his arm and led her to the morning room. McDonald’s warning whirled in his head. Gertrude? His woman? The Scotsman must be mad, indeed. Even after his offer of marriage, she had steadfastly refused to yield.

  Ann smiled at him in a way he had not witnessed in years. Without scorn or worry or self-loathing. “Angus felt the need to speak to you. He is very protective of me.”

  “As I can see. As much of an ass as I’ve been over the years, Ann,” Blake said. “I never really set out to hurt you.”

  “I know, Blake. Nor I you,” Ann said.

  “Our concern now must, of course, be William.”

  “I agree. What are you thinking of doing?” Ann asked.

  “Anthony has a man in London he would trust with Elizabeth’s life. I’ll either send him or let McDonald go. He offered you know.”

  “Blake.” Ann said and stepped to him. “I’ve made few requests of you over the years. But I will beg one now. I think you should go to the States to get William.”

  “I’ve thought of it, Ann. But I can hardly leave the estate for three or more months.” Blake turned to the window. “Although it bothers me greatly to have William brought home by a stranger.”

  “Angus is not a stranger to William,” Ann said quietly.

  “I know, but somehow I feel that this mess is of my own doing rather than through any fault of Melinda’s. Although I feel I’d nearly strangle the boy for the worry he’s caused me. Maybe the time together would do William and me good.”

  Ann’s eyes widened.

  Blake waved his hand. “Yes, yes I know. I’ve been rather recalcitrant in the past to admit mistakes.”

  “There are few guidelines for raising children, Blake. We do as our parents did, minus the mistakes, hopefully.” Ann lifted her chin. “I think our children are turning out quite well for all the bother we’ve been to them.”

  Blake smiled. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “But Blake, you’ve never been farther than London. How will you ever fare alone? Being a duke will count for naught in America,” Ann said.

  “I am not completely useless, Ann. I imagine I’ll find my way to Miss Finch’s and be able to bring William home,” Blake replied.

  “What will you say to her?” Ann said, hands folded at her waist.

  Blake turned from the window he’d been staring out of. “Say to whom?”

  “Because we are no longer married, do not discount the seventeen years we were. I know you well, Blake Sanders. Miss Finch has set you in a tizzy. Why kissing the woman in front of everyone is so unlike you I can hardly imagine it. But Elizabeth tells me it’s true. As does Anthony and Melinda. And Mrs. Wickham and Benson. And even Donald,” Ann said with a wave of her hand.

  “Must you recount my gross mortification with every witness to my folly?” Blake asked.

  Ann stepped close to Blake. “Be honest with me. Tell me you feel nothing for Miss Finch. You’ve lied to me many times over the years. Some I recognized. Some I chose to ignore. But in this I don’t believe you can hide your feelings.”

  Blake stared out the window. He had been convincing himself all week with some limited success that Gertrude’s leave-taking was for the best by reliving their arguments and recounting her odd manner of dress and manners. He hardly wanted a wife. But then her stern protection of Melinda and how she had charmed William and Donald crept back through his mind. And the night of their lovemaking that haunted his thoughts every waking minute.

  “I just don’t understand myself. She drove me nearly mad with her dismissal of things I have believed in my whole life. She’s an American for God’s sake, Ann. She refused to ride sidesaddle. She wears the oddest clothes. And that accent of hers, dear Lord. As she prattles along endlessly over women’s right to vote. But still, even with all of this …” Blake trailed away.

  “You love her then,” Ann said softly.

  Blake turned dismissively. “Love? One night hardly credits …”

  Ann raised her brows.

  “I suppose Elizabeth could not wait to apprise you of that unfortunate scene,” Blake said.

  “The picture Elizabeth painted was one I could hardly imagine. She was quite mortified actually to find you standing there with just your hands to, well…”

  “I did ask Miss Finch to marry me,” Blake said.

  “I know,” Ann admitted with a nod.

  Blake plopped down in a chair. “She brushed me aside as if I were lint on her dress.”

  “Gertrude Finch hardly sounds like the kind of woman to dismiss you out of hand. But knowing you as well as I do, I can only imagine your choice of words,” Ann said.

  “It’s not in me to wax poetically. I was willing to do the right thing. Do my duty. She’s a stubborn, willful woman,” Blake said.

  Ann walked to the chair Blake was seated in and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Go to America. Fetch William home.” She went to the door. With her hand on the knob, she turned. “And Blake. Don’t be such a fool with Miss Finch as you were with me. It does the Duke of Wexford little credit to repeat his mistakes.”

  Blake decided to take Ann’s advice, forgo McDonald’s and Anthony’s offers and go for William himself. His preparations for his trip to the States were made easier with Angus McDonald’s help. Ann planned to marry below her status in society but well her equal in fortune. McDonald’s ample wealth was apparently made shipping goods across the ocean. H
is fleet of ships attested to his success. Melinda insisted on postponing her come-out and although Blake knew she was disappointed, he could hardly say he was. It would ease his worries an ocean away about what mischief his beautiful daughter would get into. She and Donald would stay with their mother at McDonald’s Scotland home.

  Melinda was excited to make the trip after Ann told her stories of McDonald’s family and the people she would meet. Society there offered many parties and entertainment that would keep a young, single girl amused for months. McDonald eased his worries by declaring to guard Melinda with his life.

  “Our rules aren’t as strict and silly as England’s, but a fool I’m not. Many young lads will take one look at the girl and be besotted from the start. I have a daughter one year younger than Melinda, and it will take every bit of my time and energy to keep up with them. But do it, I will. I want leave from you to do as I think proper for Melinda. I’ll guard her as if she were my own, but I cannot do it if she appeals to you on a whim,” McDonald said as he drank whiskey with Anthony and Blake.

  Blake studied McDonald. It irked him to no end to give up control of his children. The future of his family. But he knew the man’s requests were reasonable. Melinda could certainly make life miserable on occasion if she didn’t get her own way. He didn’t think McDonald would let a few tears or a pouting lip sway him to acquiesce.

  “I’ll make Melinda aware that you are in charge while I’m gone. If the rules are set before she arrives, I think things will be fine,” Blake said.

  “Good. There’ll be no mischief on my watch,” McDonald replied.

  “When do you leave, Blake?” Anthony asked.

  “In two days.”

  “I’m still willing to go, if you’ve changed your mind,” Anthony offered.

  “And have you whine and worry about Elizabeth the whole time? I think not,” Blake replied.

  “You’re set on taking the entourage as well, Angus has informed me,” Anthony said.

  “Hardly an entourage,” Blake replied.

  “I’ve been to the States. Tried to tell the man, I did, leave the trappings of England behind. Will make him stick out like a Scotsman in Paris,” Angus said.

  “I’m only taking Benson,” Blake added.

  “And the carriage,” Anthony said.

  “How else will I get to Miss Finch’s?”

  “I told you man, take the rails or stagecoach,” Angus replied, shaking his head.

  “Remarkable.” Anthony stared at Blake, a finger on his lip. “A foray to the wilderness will include a groomsman, three footmen and a valet. In a shining black barouche with the Wexford seal certainly taunting every blackguard for miles. Have you updated your will?”

  Blake did not smile. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. But not for the reason you think. I will return carrying William by the scruff of his shirt in one piece, I assure you.”

  “Ann is well-provided for.” Angus said and leaned back in his chair. “I assume you took her portion out of your will.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Blake said.

  Anthony turned in his chair. “Surely your man of business advised you to settle any of Ann’s entitlements on the children since she is to marry.”

  Blake tapped his cheek. “Truth be told, I hadn’t thought of it.”

  Anthony looked at him strangely and stood to refill his glass. He turned back clearly puzzled. “Granted I was goading you when I remarked on your will, but since you’ve admitted you changed it and Ann’s portion wasn’t the cause, I am baffled.”

  Blake stared out the window. He mumbled words behind his hand.

  “Pardon, Blake,” Anthony said. “I can’t hear you.”

  “Is it necessary for everyone, including my wife’s future husband, to be to know of my folly?” Blake whined.

  “I’ll leave, Sanders, if you have something to discuss with Burroughs,” McDonald said over his drink.

  “No, no. We still have things to confirm about the crossing.” Blake sat silent and waged a war of conscience in his mind. Anthony should know. And if McDonald were his children’s guardian with Anthony he should know as well. “I’ve included a clause to settle money on any heirs I am currently unaware of.”

  Anthony sat speechless. “Then you’re worried Gertrude is expecting your child,” he whispered.

  Blake shrugged.

  “Twas only one time, from what I understand,” McDonald said.

  “Elizabeth said Gertrude told her you passed out cold afterwards,” Anthony added and scowled. “I admit I still would like to kill you with my bare hands.”

  “If each of you would check the date of my marriage and the date of my daughter’s birth, you would notice exactly nine months between the two events.”

  McDonald pursed his lips and stared at his drink. Anthony fidgeted and frowned.

  “If there is any chance a son or daughter of mine was conceived, I must ensure his or her well-being,” Blake added.

  “Yes, considering their mother will be alone and defenseless. Unmarried and at the mercy of gossip and censure. Yes, quite the gentlemanly thing to do,” Anthony said.

  McDonald raised red bushy brows. “Tis exactly this conversation I pray would never include Melinda or Clair’s name,” the Scotsman said weakly.

  The thought of Melinda in this same situation made Blake’s stomach roll. “I did offer to marry Miss Finch.”

  “Maybe the answer will be different if there is a babe,” McDonald offered.

  “I have no intentions of humiliating myself further by offering again,” Blake said.

  Anthony sat forward in his chair. “Loving a woman is no humiliation, Blake.” He waited for a reply. When none came, he sat back. “Perhaps I’ve been mistaken. If you truly loved her, you would ask with your dying breath and still pray for her response.”

  “Love, love, you prattle on about. Love is messy and makes men act the fool. Like you, too, McDonald,” Blake said as he stood. “Whimpering and cowering to some skirt’s request. Makes men forget what their duty is.”

  “Bugger England, then, I say,” Anthony said.

  “You are a perfect example. You would not besmirch our homeland otherwise,” Blake said.

  “Ah, but what is country and duty without love. They are meaningless without it,” McDonald said.

  “And even from the brawny Scotsman. You’ve both been addled.”

  “You mistake my meaning, Blake,” Anthony said. “Your duty as you call it has been to marry, keep a mistress, and worry prodigiously over the knot in your tie. You will die knowing nothing else.”

  Blake blustered now, angry at his friend’s words. “This is twice now you have seen fit to reduce my existence to naught but a pile of nonsense.”

  “Yes, and what of it, Blake?” Anthony shouted. “You still refuse to find anything more worthwhile than your bloody title. Take a chance, Blake. Take a chance that there is more for you. A woman you love and who loves you and might, just might, mean more to you than your horses and town gossip. London and its worries will be but a speck in history when you rot in your grave.”

  Blake watched Anthony storm from the room, draperies swaying and knick-a-knacks tumbling, as he slammed the door. McDonald followed. Blake was shaken to the core. Anthony had known him his entire life. They had stood at each other’s wedding. Anthony was godfather to his heir. The thought that the man closest to him his whole life thought so little of him left him rattled. When had things changed? Blake harrumphed. When Anthony had grown up and left me behind unable to fathom life’s purpose? Most likely the day he met Elizabeth. And what of the chances Anthony spoke of? The chance to find something that meant more. What if he gambled his heart on a woman and found she did not return his regard. What then?

  His one night with Gertrude, even drunk, had frightened him sorely. Even now it was hard to admit to himself it had not been the vessel that haunted him and left him aching. Not the body that had received his. It had been the woman. Pure and simple. The whole
woman, body and soul, heart and mind. But Gertrude had made clear she was not interested. Not in him. What if he lay his feelings, whatever they may be, out for her perusal? She would reject him as she had done time and again. But what of that chance Anthony spoke of? What of the chance, however slim, that she would not rebuff him? What would lay ahead of him then?

  An hour later, Blake rode to Anthony’s home. He found his friend in his stables, mucking out stalls of all things. “The smell from you will keep Elizabeth away for days.”

  Anthony turned around with a start. He leaned on the handle of the pitchfork he held. “When I get angry and say stupid things, the best remedy for me is work. An unpleasant chore preferably.”

  “I will remember that in the future,” Blake replied as he ambled into the barn.

  Anthony ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Blake. I spoke out of turn. As Elizabeth made clear, I am hardly the one to point fingers.”

  Blake shrugged and looked away. “I know not who I am, Anthony. Other than my father’s son. I’ve managed to bungle my last twenty years. I haven’t a clue how to avoid past mistakes.”

  Anthony sat down on baled hay. “Not true. You’ve been a good father to your children. I am fairly petrified I’ll not do as well.”

  “I’ve been a fair father to the children, Anthony.” Blake heaved a sigh. “But for the wrong reasons. And as they grow older, I hope they know how to be something other than my child.”

  “I would hate for us to part on bad terms. Especially with William’s welfare on your mind. Do you accept my apology, Sanders?” Anthony asked.

  “I do.” Blake wandered the stable. Touching the soft nose of a mare and the cool leather of the saddle hanging next to the stall. His back was to Anthony when he asked, “The chance you spoke of. Is there any hope of a chance for me with Miss Finch?” Blake turned then to face his friend. “And is she the chance I should take?”

  “Won’t saddle me with that puzzle.”Anthony picked up his discarded tool and began to turn straw. “You’ll figure it out on your own, I dare say.”

  “Keep your eye on things for me while I’m gone.”

  “I’ll have your back, Blake. Safe passage to you.”