by Carla Kelly
‘Thank you.’ Tess snuggled into the heavy wool with a wriggle that reminded him of that dratted kitten making itself comfortable. ‘Miss the convent? Oh, no. It is worse being lonely in a crowd than by yourself, don’t you think?’
Alex tried to remember when, if, he had ever felt lonely. Alone, yes, but he was comfortable in his own company and always had been. When he wanted human contact he had a wide social circle; when he needed close friends he had them, the other three members of what the dean of his Oxford college had referred to bitterly as the Four Disgraces.
‘I suppose so,’ he agreed. ‘But in the convent, all those Sisters must have been like sisters, as it were.’
Tess gave a little shrug as though the cloak had developed uncomfortable creases. ‘Friendships are not encouraged. The sisters treat everyone the same and the boarders go home for holidays and they make friends within their own group. They all come from very good families.’
‘And you do not?’
‘I am an...orphan with no connections. But everyone was very kind,’ she added brightly.
Alex was conscious of a sudden and startling urge to box the ears of the unknown Mother Superior. He had no trouble translating very kind into impersonal, remote, efficient, cool. Tess had been fed, clothed, educated, kept healthy and respectable. Her body and her morals had been cared for; her heart and her happiness, it seemed, could look after themselves if she did not choose to become a nun. Although that was not so very different from a child’s upbringing in any aristocratic family. He was sure his mother had loved him, but it had never occurred to her to play with him, let alone talk to him outside the hour before she changed for dinner.
‘I’m sure they were kind.’ And now she was heading for a life of respectable drudgery, neither a member of a family nor an upper servant. But she seemed to realise already what her position was, even if she had rose-coloured ideas about the joys of family life. It would be no kindness to tell her that and, he supposed, a miracle might happen and she would find herself in the household of her dreams. He looked at the cloudy sky, then fished out his watch. ‘Have some bread and ale, best to eat a little, often.’
‘Thank you. In a minute.’ Tess got up and folded his cloak one-handed, clutching at the mast with the other. ‘I need...I mean, I assume that the...’
‘Ladies’ retiring room?’ Alex suggested. ‘Yes, that will be down below.’ He stood and gave her his arm as far as the entrance to the companionway. ‘Can you manage the stairs with your ankle? Sure? Hold on tight as you go.’
* * *
The smell hit Tess halfway down the steps. Hot, crowded humanity, food, alcohol, an unpleasantness that she guessed was the ship’s bilges and a clear intimation that several people had already been unwell.
Only urgent personal need made her fight her way through the crowded first-class cabin and whisper in the ear of an amiable-looking lady.
‘Over there, my dear. Wait a moment.’ She dug in her reticule and handed a small object to Tess. ‘Take my smelling salts.’
Five minutes later Tess hobbled back, returning the bottle with sincere thanks and a mental resolution to hang on, however long the rest of the voyage proved to be.
She picked her way back to the stairs and encountered a frigid stare from a middle-aged matron in a large bonnet. She looked vaguely familiar. She probably thinks I am an intruder from second class, Tess thought, avoiding her eyes. She certainly would have been if it were not for Alex’s insistence.
How easily things can change, she thought as she stumbled with the motion and caught hold of a handrail. If Alex hadn’t been in a hurry on icy cobbles I would have caught a boat yesterday, I wouldn’t have a sore ankle, I’d have been packed into the second-class cabin feeling ill, I wouldn’t own a ginger kitten and my life wouldn’t be complicated by proximity to a large, infuriating—and devastatingly attractive—male.
On the whole, even with the ankle, she rather thought she preferred things this way, an adventure before life became worthy and serious again.
Chapter Five
The infuriating male in question was waiting for her when she emerged into the fresh air on deck. ‘Hellish down there, isn’t it? Come on back to our roost and be thankful it isn’t raining.’ Alex sounded quite unconcerned about the effect of salt spray on his expensive greatcoat or the disorder of his wind-ruffled hair now he had abandoned the fight to keep his hat on his head.
‘What is it?’ he asked once he had her settled again. ‘I’m delighted to see that green tinge has gone, but I did not expect to see a smile.’
‘You dress so elegantly, but look at you now.’ She cocked her head to one side to study him in the waning light. It would be dusk soon. ‘You are not the slightest bit concerned about your clothes or your hair. I believe you are a fraud, my lord.’
‘I think not. I take my appearance very seriously. One has a reputation to uphold,’ Alex drawled, but there was an edge to his voice as he said it and the mischievous tilt to his lips had been replaced by a thin smile.
You are not what you seem, Lord Weybourn, Tess thought as she snuggled back into the embrace of the boat cloak. The problem was, he did not seem to be the same person from one hour to the next. He appeared the indolent man of fashion, yet was close friends with a trio of gentlemen who looked as though they could hold their own in a back-alley fight, and his body was hard as nails under that expensive tailoring. He sneered at her enthusiasm for Christmas, called her sentimental, threatened Noel with a future as glove linings—and yet he was kind to her, had given her a kitten and was infinitely patient with the creature’s attacks on his person.
He was also very—sinfully—attractive. She had no business acknowledging that, she knew perfectly well. She was a convent-reared young woman about to begin earning her living. Her antecedents were handicap enough, but any smudge on her reputation would mean an end to her prospects for decent employment, and the sooner she resigned herself to frugal, upright spinsterhood, the better.
‘What was that great sigh for?’ Alex enquired. ‘Hungry?’
‘No, I’m just...’ Wishing for the moon. Wishing I had never set eyes on you so my foolish imagination had nothing to work with. The angle of your jaw, the scent of your skin, the way your hair curls at the ends with the damp wind... The impossibility of a man like you in my life. ‘Cold.’
‘Me, too.’ He began to unbutton his greatcoat. ‘Let’s get rid of that coal scuttle of a bonnet and do something about it.’ Before she could protest the thing was off her head and jammed behind her portmanteau and she was on Alex’s knee, the flaps of his coat around her, the hood of the cloak over her head.
‘Alex! My lord, this is—’
‘Outrageous, I know. Stop squeaking, you sound like Noel.’ His voice by her ear was definitely amused. ‘This is shocking, but practical. The choices are go below and be warm but nauseous, sit up here in chilly isolation or share body heat.’ She felt his legs move, a most disconcerting effect. ‘There, the kitten’s basket is under the cloak, too. Happy?’
‘Ecstatic,’ she muttered. Alex’s snort of amusement was warm on her neck. ‘I suppose the sea crossing isn’t this bad in the summer.’ She did her best not to think about the grey sea under the darkening, slate sky, the tossing white wave crests, the icy water.
‘It can be delightful in the summer,’ Alex confirmed. ‘Go to sleep.’
‘Huh.’ It was her turn to snort. She might as well try to fly.
* * *
Tess woke cramped, warm and confused in a snug cave, huddled against something that moved in a steady rhythm. It took her a while to sort through the sensations. Someone else’s skin, a fresh cologne, salt, a seat that shifted slightly beneath her, a world that rocked and heaved. A ship. A ship and Alex.
She sat still for a moment, inhaling the essence of warm, sleepy man. Somehow she ha
d got between the flaps of his coat as well as his greatcoat and her cheek rested on skin-warm linen. Dangerous. Tess struggled upright on his knees, batting the edges of his greatcoat apart so she could see out.
‘Good morning.’ Alex pushed her to her feet, keeping one hand on her arm as she staggered. ‘There’s the English coast ahead.’
‘Thank heavens.’ She felt sticky and thirsty, but there was land, the sun was struggling out of the clouds low on the horizon and the long night was over.
‘Have some ale.’ Alex was on his knees beside the luggage. He passed her an open bottle and then scooped a protesting kitten out of its basket. ‘Yes, I know. We are cruel and horrible and you want your breakfast. You can share mine.’ He poured a little milk into his cupped palm from a stoppered jar and Noel lapped, purring furiously while Alex extracted cold bacon one-handed.
‘Do you want to eat or shall we wait until we can find a decent inn?’
‘Wait,’ Tess said with decision. She felt all right now, but there was no point in tempting fate, especially when she had to venture below decks again. That couldn’t wait, but she lingered a moment, hand braced against the mast, looking down on Alex’s tousled head as he bent over the kitten. Such a kind man.
‘I’ll just...’ She waved a hand towards the companionway. ‘I won’t be long.’
It was much worse below decks now after a rough, crowded night. Even the smartest passengers looked haggard and unkempt. The first-class saloon was crowded and difficult to negotiate and, when Tess emerged from the room assigned to ladies, she turned to see if she could make her way forward and up through a different hatch.
She skirted the second-class cabin, an even more unpleasant sight than the first class, and tried a narrow passageway with a glimmer of what looked like daylight at its end. It opened out into a small area at the foot of another set of stairs so she gathered her skirts in one hand, took the handrail with the other and started to climb, one step at a time.
‘What we got ’ere, then? You’re trespassing into the crews’ quarters, sweetheart. Lost, are you? Or looking for some company?’
A sailor, big and burly, was descending the steps towards her. Tess retreated backwards, away from the smell of tar and unwashed man, the big hands, the snaggle-toothed smirk.
‘I want to get back on deck. Kindly let me pass.’
‘Kindly let me pass.’ He mimicked her accent and kept coming. ‘I don’t take orders from passengers.’ His eyes, bright blue in his weather-beaten face, ran over her from head to foot and a sneer appeared on his face as he took in her plain, cheap gown. ‘I can show you a good time.’ He put out a hand and gave her a push towards a door that was hooked open. Inside she could glimpse a bunk bed.
Tess turned, clumsy with her painful ankle, and he caught her by the shoulder. ‘Not so fast, you stuck-up little madam. What the—?’
He broke off as one elegantly gloved hand gripped his shoulder. ‘You’re in the way, friend,’ Alex drawled, his tone suggesting they were anything but friends. His gaze swept over Tess and she stopped struggling.
‘And something tells me this lady does not welcome your attentions.’ His voice was low, almost conversational, his half smile amiable. ‘I suggest you remove your hand from the lady.’ Alex was as tall as the sailor, but looked about half his weight. The man shifted his stance to face him, his posture becoming subtly more threatening as he dropped his hand from Tess’s shoulder.
Tess looked at the great meaty hands and the knife in his belt and swallowed. Then she began to pull off her gloves. If he attacked Alex, her only weapons were her nails and her feet. ‘This brute—’
‘This little lady came looking for some company.’ He leered at Tess. ‘Then the silly mort got all uppity on me.’
‘And you are?’ Alex sounded almost comatose with boredom as he drew off his right glove and tossed it to Tess.
‘I’m the second mate of this ’ere ship and I don’t take any nonsense, not from bits of skirt what don’t know their place and not from passengers, neither.’
‘Hmm. I wasn’t intending nonsense,’ Alex remarked, the last word almost a growl. He bunched his fist and hit the man square on the jaw. The sailor went down like a felled tree, hitting his head on the handrail as he went.
‘Damn.’ Alex shook his hand. ‘I hope I haven’t killed him. It means such a fuss with the magistrates.’ He sounded like himself again.
He gave the unconscious man a nudge in the ribs with one booted foot. ‘No. He’s breathing.’ Alex stepped over the sprawled figure and frowned down at Tess. ‘Are you all right? Did he do more than touch your shoulder? Because if he did he’s going to wake up minus his wedding tackle.’
‘No.’ She blinked at him, trying to square the carefree figure in front of her with the dangerous-sounding man who had delivered that sledgehammer of a blow. ‘You hit him very hard.’
Alex shrugged. ‘He deserved it and if you give a lout like that a tap, all you do is make him angry and more dangerous. Now, where can we stow him?’
‘In there.’ She pointed at the open door.
Alex dragged the unconscious man inside, then hunkered down, felt the sailor’s head, rolled back an eyelid and pushed him onto his side. ‘He’ll do.’
Tess sat down on the bottom step. It felt safer down there, less as though the deck was going to come up and hit her. She wasn’t used to violence, and facing that leering creature had made her stomach heave, but Alex... Alex had been wonderful.
She should have been appalled and frightened by the violence, but it had been thrilling, that explosive, focused power. Tess looked at Alex. Most of the time he was so kind and carefree, but she now knew he was capable of behaving like a storybook hero. She had forgotten those muscles.
‘Let that be a lesson to you,’ said her hero flatly as he pulled on his glove and shut the cabin door. ‘Do not go wandering off, do not speak to strange men.’
Tess felt her warm storybook glow vanishing. ‘I didn’t wander off. And I did not speak to him. He accosted me.’
‘You are far too trusting—as bad as that blasted kitten. You let yourself be carried about Ghent by a strange man, you spend the night with four of them...’
‘That is totally unfair! You knocked me down, you assured me I’d be safe!’
‘Not so much trusting as gullible,’ Alex snapped. The image of Sir Galahad wavered and vanished altogether. There were shouts on deck; the motion of the ship changed. ‘We’re coming into harbour.’ Alex climbed up the companionway and looked round. ‘We’d better get on deck before someone removes our baggage.’
Tess stalked after him with as much dignity as she could manage with a limp. As they made their way past sailors hauling down sails and securing ropes she saw that the harbour was getting closer by the second. England. Home? It will be in time, she reassured herself, trying not to glare resentfully at Alex’s back.
He reached their place under the mast and turned, flexing his hand as though reliving that blow. ‘I’m sorry, I should not have snapped at you. I was concerned when you did not come back.’ When she did not speak, he shrugged. ‘Look, I wanted to tear his head off and I couldn’t, not once he was unconscious. I was...frustrated.’
‘That’s a very primitive reaction.’ And an exciting one, I fear. When Alex simply grunted Tess smothered her smile and picked up Noel’s basket. ‘There’s a good boy. Did you miss your uncle Alex, then?’ There was a yowl and a ginger paw shot out of a gap in the weave and fastened on Tess’s sleeve. ‘Poor little chap, you want to get on dry land, don’t you?’
* * *
‘I have not made any promises about that hellcat,’ Alex said. ‘Any more nauseating baby talk and Uncle Alex will start thinking about glove linings again.’
Tess slanted a look at him that said she knew perfectly well he was bluffing. Minx. She seemed to be all
right after that unpleasant scene. No vapours, no wilting into his arms at the most inconvenient moment. In fact, he had a strong suspicion that she would have had a go at the man herself, given half a chance. He managed to suppress a grin and checked their bags. ‘Don’t try to carry the cat basket. Wait there and I’ll get someone to fetch the lot.’
He walked to the rail and waited while the ship bumped against the quayside and the gangplank was let down, then he hailed a porter and made his way back across the now-crowded deck to Tess. She was sitting patiently where he had left her, looking around with intelligent interest. Drab, neat, brave little nun, he thought. She looked serious, a little anxious. Then she saw him and her face lit up in a smile that held nothing but pleasure at his return and something inside him went thud.
To have a woman smile at him was no novelty. The respectable ones were always glad to welcome him to their homes and their social events; the unrespectable ones greeted his interest with attention that flattered his title and his pocketbook, if nothing else. But Tess’s warmth, her lack of artifice, were like an embrace. He was going to miss the chit when he handed her over, and he never thought he’d feel that about a respectable female. Or a lightskirt, come to that.
‘Those bags there.’ He pointed them out to the porter, who reached for the cat’s basket, as well.
‘Oh, be careful!’ Tess caught it by the handle.
‘I’ll carry it.’ Alex picked it up, gave Tess his other arm and offered up a silent prayer of thanks that no one he knew was likely to be around to view one of the ton’s most stylish gentlemen in a travel-stained condition and escorting a nun and a ginger kitten off a cross-Channel ferry.
‘Thank you.’ She was still limping a little and he tucked his arm close, trapping her hand against his side to make sure she was safely supported. She was just the right height for him. ‘You are kind, Alex.’
