Passionate

by Anthea Lawson

  If only it were an option. England itself seemed almost too small to contain the two of them. The last place he wanted to be was confined on ship with Reggie. “What do you hope to gain by this? You’re Lord Denby’s heir, for God’s sake. Why the obsession with one property when the entire earldom will be yours? Your father needs you—at least he would if you started acting like the heir and not a spoiled schoolboy. Go be a son to him. There’s nothing for you in Tunisia.”

  Reggie laughed. “On the contrary, James. There is something I most decidedly want. The pleasure of seeing you fail. What good is my inheritance to me? I can hardly even borrow against it. Somergate would bring a splendid price—now, not someday in the future when my father has the courtesy to die.”

  James reached and seized his cousin’s shirtfront, hauling him forward until their faces were inches apart. “How can you speak like that? Your father is alive and cares for you. Have you any idea how precious that is?” He slammed Reggie hard against the seatback. “You are a pitiful creature. I wouldn’t be you for all the wealth in England.”

  Reggie wrenched himself from James’s grasp and swept up his silver-headed walking stick, raising it to strike. “I need no lecture from you, orphan. If you lay hands on me again, you will learn that I can still give as good as I get. Now stand aside before I lose my patience. I have a ship to board.”

  James remained unmoving in the doorway, breathing hard, his fists doubled. He looked at his cousin in his fine coat and cuffs, knuckles white around the handle of his walking stick. How he wanted to wrench that stick out of his hands. But Reggie would not back down. Cornered, he was like a dangerous animal, and there was nothing James could do to prevent him from sailing, short of knocking him unconscious and tying him up. Tempting as that sounded, there were limits. He could not humiliate his uncle yet again by leaving the man’s heir beaten and trussed up at the docks.

  Slowly, one step at a time, James forced himself to back away and out until he stood on the rough wood of the dock, arms crossed, still struggling with his own dangerous impulses. A moment later his cousin descended and straightened his coat. He held his walking stick under one arm, looking for all the world like a bored aristocrat. Only his eyes revealed his fury. When he looked at James they shone like two hard black stones.

  “I’ll see you aboard, coz.”

  James watched Reggie ascend the ramp and disappear onto the Sidonia. Of all the blasted luck. He had expected their troubles would begin when they reached Africa, but his cousin’s presence changed everything. Why did Reggie have to be the worm in every apple?

  “Huntington! Huntington!” James turned. Sir Edward was waving from the doorway of a large coach. The botanist grinned and bounded down the steps as soon as the coach stopped. “We had a bit of a breakdown on the way. I was afraid the ship would depart without us.”

  Now that Reggie was on board James almost wished it had, but it was too late to change plans now. “You’re in time, but only just. We’ll have to look lively.”

  Look lively—it was a command he had used frequently as an officer. But as he watched Lady Mary emerge from the coach and carefully descend the steps one thing was very clear—this was not the army.

  “Good afternoon, James,” she said, opening her lace-trimmed parasol. “What a glorious day to begin our voyage. I trust the sailors were careful with the crates and baggage when they stored them.”

  “Everything is stowed safely. Higgs was a great help, just as you anticipated.”

  Lady Mary nodded a gentle I-told-you-so to her husband, who had wanted the head gardener to remain behind to care for the collection at Brookdale. “I knew he would prove valuable.”

  Even as she spoke, Higgs hurried up and set the servants to unloading the boxes and luggage strapped to the roof of the coach. James stared up at the mountain of luggage. No wonder they had suffered a breakdown.

  The other Strathmores emerged from the coach. Richard’s eyes lit when he spotted the Sidonia, and Isabelle, with her golden hair and fresh beauty, caused a temporary work-stoppage on the docks. Mrs. Hodges came last, armored in dun-colored cotton and wielding a thick, black parasol.

  James felt a wave of affection for all of them. He had come to them a stranger, and they welcomed him, not as a guest, but almost as a member of their family. A pity they would now have to meet his real family—at least its most notorious member.

  James greeted them and was about to turn away when another person stepped out of the coach.

  Lily.

  What the devil was she doing here? Up until this moment he had pictured her in London with her parents in some grand home—all marble and stained wood and age-darkened portraits of men in powdered wigs. He had imagined her there, believed it with such conviction that his mind had difficulty accepting the reality now standing before him.

  The breeze teased a strand of chestnut hair from beneath her bonnet. Somehow the sun seemed warmer and the raucous bustle of the docks faded. James stepped forward and reached up to offer his hand, steadying her as she descended.

  “Good day to you, Mr. Huntington.”

  “And you. Here to see your family off?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’ve come to see your uncle and family off—you returned home to London for the season.”

  “No. I changed my mind. I’m going to Tunisia.”

  “What?” He scowled. “That’s impossible. Out of the question.” She was Fernhaven’s daughter. There were a hundred—a thousand—reasons why she should not be here, not the least being that every time they had been alone she had wound up in his arms.

  “Mr. Huntington.” She looked over to the others and lowered her voice. “Mr. Huntington, I don’t see that you have any say in the matter. I am my uncle’s illustrator. I have every right to go.”

  “No. I forbid it. It’s far too dangerous. Pirates along the coast, savage tribesmen, rough conditions—I can’t expect a lady of your station to endure such hardships.”

  “Really.” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t see that my station has anything to do with it. Might I remind you that my cousin, aunt, and Mrs. Hodges are traveling? You seem to have no objection to any of them. As for hardship, I’m well aware that Aunt Mary has packed all the civilized comforts. I have been in the field with her before.”

  “This is different.” Apart from the fact he had no desire to kiss the other women in the party, he simply could not allow Lily on that ship with Reggie aboard. It was madness. If his cousin sensed that James had any feelings for her he would show no pity—to either of them.

  “I see no difference.” Her voice rose. “As my uncle’s illustrator, I am a very necessary part of the expedition. I might remind you that we Strathmores were already planning to travel before you ever came into the picture. You did agree that my uncle’s family was to be part of the expedition. I believe I qualify. Now, if you will excuse me.”

  James caught her arm and swung her back to face him. “You cannot sail with us. You must return to your parents. I’ll have Higgs escort you back to London where you belong.”

  “Where I belong?” Angry tears welled in her eyes. “How dare you dictate where I belong!”

  Her look of accusation tore him. How could he explain the menace his cousin represented, or the way that even now he wanted to pull her into his embrace and kiss her? He didn’t know where to begin, and it wasn’t necessary. The only thing that was important was keeping her off the ship.

  “Miss Strathmore. The matter is decided.”

  She tugged herself out of his grasp. “Well. I shall keep that firmly in mind.” She spun on her heel. “Mrs. Hodges, I would like to view the ship now before we board. Please accompany me.”

  James took a step after her, but it was too late. She had taken Mrs. Hodges by the arm, placing the parasol-wielding matron between them.

  “Stand aside, let us pass.” Mrs. Hodges pressed through handkerchief-waving well-wishers with Lily in tow.

  He rake
d his hand through his hair. There had been a time when people actually obeyed him. The Sidonia’s whistle shrieked, the blast echoing off warehouses and taverns lining the quay.

  “Best hurry, Huntington,” Sir Edward called. “We wouldn’t want to leave our leader behind.”

  James was the last passenger to board. As soon as he set foot on deck the ramp was pulled away, the ropes cast off, and the ship’s whistle sounded a final blast. Standing at the rail beside Sir Edward, he watched the paddlewheel churn the murky water.

  “Bit of a rocky start, eh, Huntington? But we’re safely off and in pursuit of your grandfather’s flower. Makes the blood race, it does. We’re all grateful that you allowed us to come along on this adventure.” Sir Edward looked further up where Isabelle, Mrs. Hodges and Lily were standing. “And don’t worry about Lily—she’s a sensible girl and as worthy a traveler as you might find. A bit spirited sometimes, but then that’s not always a bad thing.”

  James nodded. How had he managed to get himself in this situation? Searching North Africa for a journal that probably no longer existed; dogged by a vengeful cousin; responsible for the well-being of a family from the English countryside that traveled with enough baggage to fill a train; and most maddening of all, his heart unsettled by an unpredictable, and seemingly uncontrollable, botanical painter with sea-green eyes.

  It was beyond absurd.

  Lily glared at the water widening between her and England. The gall of the man! As if one kiss—well, two—gave him the right to order her about like a recruit in his own private army. Go back to London where she belonged? She had been very wrong about him, or actually, quite right at first and then foolishly let her guard down. He hadn’t seemed such a tyrant back at Brookdale.

  She was absolutely finished with people trying to manage her life. A dozen cutting remarks flew through her head—all the things she should have said to him when he was manhandling her on the dock. She ought to march right over and tell him that he—and his overbearing commands—meant nothing to her. She whirled, only to find the place at the rail beside her uncle empty. The coward had probably made for his cabin. No matter—he would have to wait to feel her wrath. She would be ready when the time came.

  “Lily.” Isabelle was watching a sailor high in the rigging.

  “When do you think they will set the sails? The masts look so odd and bare. But we are off! Let’s explore the ship.” She linked her arm through her cousin’s.

  “Explore?” Mrs. Hodges asked, “How can you think of exploring with the deck shifting and rolling so? I am going below.”

  “Yes, let’s go below,” Isabelle said. “I’m perishing to see our stateroom. I have read that the accommodations are quite fine.”

  “It would be nice to get settled.” Lily followed her cousin to the stairwell, the teak door held open with a brass hook, and descended to the dining saloon, a bright room finished with white enameled panels and ornamental gilt work.

  “Oh, this is lovely,” Isabelle said. “I wonder which table is the captain’s?”

  They passed between the long, gleaming tables and went through a set of double doors to the ladies’ cabin. Private staterooms reserved for the female passengers opened into this social space.

  “My, it’s just like a fancy parlor. And look, a piano—won’t Richard be jealous.” Isabelle bounced down on a curved velvet couch set under the aft portholes. “How comfortable.”

  Looking out, Lily noticed the shore was well on its way to becoming a smudge on the horizon. She took a deep breath. She was here, on her way to Africa. There would be no changing that now—not by her, not by her parents, and most especially not by the overbearing man who had commandeered the expedition. Could it be that just yesterday she had feared she was developing feelings for him? How laughable.

  “You’re looking fierce, Lily. Whatever are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking Mr. Huntington had better not try and tell me what to do in the future. It’s none of his concern.”

  “Goodness. If you glare at him like that, I’m sure he’ll keep his distance—assuming that is really what you want.”

  “Of course it is.” The more distance, the better, for all concerned.

  “Well, there’s not much distance on this ship, but you can always take refuge here, or in our stateroom.” Isabelle scanned the gleaming wood doors lining either side of the room.

  “Look, number eight. That’s ours.” She jumped up and went to the door, then stopped short at the threshold.

  “Let me look, Isabelle. Are you going to go in, or do you plan to stand there all afternoon?”

  Isabelle stepped into their stateroom. “It’s just—it is very small, don’t you think?”

  Lily entered, her gaze taking in the beds built-in on either side of the door, the delicate washstand and mahogany wardrobe. “It’s charming. And it’s a ship, after all. You’ve been reading too much promotional literature.” The sun slanted through their porthole, the light illuminating the inlay of exotic woods paneling the walls. She thought the room very cozy—a secret haven.

  “Well, I prefer the ladies’ cabin. There is more room to move and more company.” Isabelle stepped out. “Look, they’re about to serve tea. Come on, Lily. Father says the P&O line employs excellent chefs.”

  The ladies’ cabin was filling up as passengers descended from the decks, and swirls of conversation filled the air. Lily and Isabelle chose a small table directly under one of the skylights where sunlight from the stained-glass edges threw colorful patterns on the floor beside them. A steward brought them cups of tea, setting them down carefully along with a plate of delicacies. Lily noticed the small railings edging the table to keep items from sliding off during storms and hoped the voyage would not become so rough that they would be needed.

  Isabelle took a bite of her tea cake. “Delicious. At least the food is as advertised.”

  “I wonder if everyone else has settled in.”

  “Perhaps they’re taking tea in the dining saloon. Should we go and join them?”

  “And abandon your perfect cake? Actually, I prefer it here. Would you like to play a game to pass the time?”

  “I brought a deck of cards, and I’m sure other ladies will join us if we ask.” Isabelle glanced about the room. “Everyone looks friendly enough. Whom shall we invite?”

  Lily followed her cousin’s gaze. “What about that raven-haired lady in the red dress? She doesn’t appear to be with anyone.”

  “She will do nicely.” Isabelle stood.

  Lily watched her cousin introduce herself to the woman and then lead their guest over. Isabelle had the gift of seeing everyone as a potential friend. She could enter a room and twenty minutes later everyone there would feel as if they had known her for years. It was charming to watch her in action.

  “This is my cousin, Miss Lily Strathmore. She is a wonderful artist. Lily, let me introduce the Baronessa Maria Bellini.”

  The Baronessa made a little curtsy and favored Lily with a warm smile. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” Her velvety voice held a charming accent.

  “Won’t you join us?”

  “Yes. I will be delighted.” She took the chair across from Lily. “And where are you bound? I am home to Sicily, myself.” The hint of a shadow crossed her face.

  “To Tunis. My uncle has arranged a botanical expedition there.”

  “Yes,” Isabelle said, “We’re going to collect a flower discovered ages ago by Lord Twickenham—his grandson, James, is guiding us. He’s very handsome, and rather smitten with Lily, I think.”

  “Isabelle! I hardly think the Baronessa cares to hear all the details—and you’re mistaken about Mr. Huntington. Weren’t we going to play cards?”

  The Baronessa’s dark eyes twinkled. “It sounds as though you will be having an exciting time in store, and I am not at all surprised that Miss Lily has an admirer.”

  The Baronessa proved to be a skilled player and lively conversationalist, amusing them with
stories of her recent time in London and how baffling she had found many of the English customs.

  “I am invited to breakfast, no? I think on this word—it means to break one’s fast. So I do not eat a bite. I arrive, but there is no food, and the morning has passed! Finally, when it is two in the afternoon, we sit to eat. This is breakfast? It is everything I can do to take the tiny bites and make conversation about dogs.” She laughed. “I now know to always eat before going to one of these London breakfasts.”

  “My father calls that a late breakfast,” Isabelle said. “It makes sense if you eat dinner at midnight and stay up until dawn, but in the country we must go to bed early and have our breakfast at ten.”

  Despite the pleasant company, Lily’s thoughts kept wandering. She drew the jack of hearts in two succeeding hands. The stubborn set of the figure’s mouth, the dictatorial look in his eye—James had obviously not expected to see her at the docks and had clearly been unhappy about her arrival. She remembered his hold on her arm as he tried to keep her from boarding. Why the change in his manner? The last time they had stood so close his touch had set her afire. Had she been just a pastime? An amusement while he waited to leave for Tunisia? He hadn’t seemed like a rake, but she imagined the most successful ones probably never did—until it was too late.

  So she was an inconvenience to him now. Well, he would just have to become accustomed to her presence. She refused to fade quietly into the background so as not to embarrass him. This was her voyage as much as his. She fanned her cards.

  When the light from the skylights began to fade, a white-capped maid entered the cabin and lit the oil lamps mounted on the paneled walls. Lily set her cards on the table. “I expect it is almost time to dress for dinner. Thank you, Baronessa, for the lovely company. Will we see you in the dining saloon?”

  “Yes, I hope to dine with the captain tonight. Have you seen him? He is very handsome, no?” Her smile was mischievous.