“I’m quite different from the others. I’m your husband until the day I stick my spoon in the wall.”
She was standing stiff as a pole, watching him.
He had, suddenly, the most awful presentiment that she would never come to want him. No, that was absurd. He wouldn’t allow it.
He sighed. “All right. Sit down. Let’s talk for a little while.”
She sat and he saw the relief flood her face, damn her. “Now, do you have more proclamations of men’s dishonesty and general brutishness?”
She didn’t look at him. She said at last, “I suppose it is stupid of me. You already took me and looked your fill at me and I suppose you didn’t hurt me because the next morning I felt nothing. But you see, I didn’t know you were looking at me, I didn’t know anything.” She raised her head and looked at him straightly. “It is difficult, Ryder.”
“I’ll make it easier. All you have to do is trust me. Now, about your freedom. I shan’t lock you up, Sophie, if you believe that’s what men do to their wives. For the most part I imagine you will do precisely as you please. If by freedom you mean you can’t sail to the ends of the earth by yourself, that’s quite true and the reasons are obvious. You are a woman and thus weaker than a man. You could be hurt. But in the future who knows? Perhaps we will visit faraway places together.”
It wasn’t at all what she’d meant by freedom but it didn’t matter now. It was moot.
“I won’t ever hurt you, Sophie, or beat you or threaten you. I think men who do are utter bastards. Your uncle was a conscienceless villain. He wasn’t normal; he was twisted. I’m not like that. None of my friends are like that. I will never hurt you.”
“I have no reason to believe you.”
“You have no reason to disbelieve me.” Ryder rose and offered her his hand. “Come inside. It’s time to go to bed. I’ll help you with the gown.”
No choice, she thought. No more choices at all. She went with him. Soon her gown was open on her back and he was gently easing it down. He dropped a light kiss on her shoulder and felt her flinch.
“Take the gown off now. I assume you will want to keep it since it’s your wedding gown. Doubtless you can repair that rip. It doesn’t look too bad to me. Do you have space in your valise for it?”
“Yes.”
She wanted to mend the gown now, truth be told. The night stretched out before her in a terrifying long number of minutes. But even Sophie knew from the look on Ryder’s face that she’d pushed him far enough. She saw her uncle’s face in its stead, the fury darkening his eyes when she’d pushed him. She remembered the pain of his fists, the rippling of her flesh when they struck. She was soon standing only in her chemise and stockings.
“You didn’t wear slippers at your own wedding,” he said, bemused. “I had thought you were taller. Let’s get those stockings off, I want to look at your feet.”
She sat on the edge of the bed wearing only her white muslin chemise, Ryder on his haunches in front of her, completely oblivious of the fact he didn’t have any clothes on.
“Your feet are healing nicely,” he said. “There are only a couple of cuts that still look tender. On board ship, don’t wear slippers unless you have to and be careful of the decks, you could get splinters. Now let me look at your ribs.”
He took her hand and drew her upright. He bent down to take the hem of her chemise in his hands. He stopped cold. He wanted to howl and laugh at the same time at the damnable irony. It was his wedding night and he’d been done in.
There was blood on her chemise.
“You don’t feel well, Sophie?”
“Not very well. I’m not lying to you, Ryder. My stomach is cramping a bit.”
“No wonder,” he said and sighed very deeply. “I’m sorry if this disappoints you, but you’re not pregnant.”
She gasped as she looked down at herself. She turned white.
“No need to be embarrassed. Have you cloths?”
She shook her head.
“All right. I’ll send Coco to you. Would you like some laudanum? Is the cramping bad?”
“No. Yes.”
Fifteen minutes later Ryder stood beside the bed, wearing a dressing gown, looking down at his wife’s pale face. Despite the heat she’d pulled the sheet up to her nose. He’d forced the laudanum down her throat, saying in a very irritated voice, “I swear not to ravish you whilst you’re unconscious.” To which she’d replied in an equally irritated voice, “Why not? You did before.”
That had stopped him cold. He looked down at her now. “So much for the vaunted Sherbrooke luck,” he said more to himself than to her, and lifted the sheet. He eased in beside her. “No, Sophie, don’t have a fit and don’t squirm around so much, you might fall on the floor. I won’t force you to have me tonight. Hush now. The laudanum should be taking effect soon. That’s right, just close your eyes and breathe deeply. Would you like me to rub your belly?”
He didn’t expect an answer and he didn’t get one. A short time later he heard her breathing evenly into sleep.
He took her hand in his.
The sky was beginning to lighten into morning. Ryder stood on deck of the Harbinger beside Sophie. “Don’t forget to give my brother the letter,” he said for the third time. “And don’t worry. He will take good care of you and Jeremy. My mother could be a bit of a problem, but she’s unaccountable. If she chooses not to be charming to you, simply ignore her, all right? You’ll have quite an ally in Alex, I doubt not. Have you put the money I gave you in a safe place?”
“Yes, Ryder.”
“Does your belly feel all right this morning?”
“Yes.”
“You promise to hire two guards at Southampton?”
“Yes.”
He frowned at her. “You think I’m treating you like a child, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Look, Sophie, I’ve never had a wife before, never really had any responsibilities of this sort before except of course for the chil—” He broke that off and shook his head at himself. He couldn’t seem to keep his tongue quiet in his mouth around her. He would tell her about the children, but in his own time, in his own way. She was looking at him, an eyebrow lifted in silent question, but he merely shook his head, and continued. “In any case, you and Jeremy are mine now and I want to make certain you will be all right.”
“We will be fine. Don’t worry. Are you sure your family won’t toss us out on our ears?”
“I won’t lie to you. They will be very surprised. I hadn’t planned to marry, at least for a very long time. I would appreciate it, Sophie, if you would try to make my family believe you are at least a bit fond of me, that you don’t look upon me as a ravening beast.”
Captain Mallory appeared at Ryder’s elbow. There was a wide grin on his broad, ugly face. “ ’Tis time for you to remove yourself, Mr. Sherbrooke. Your bride will be fine. Give her another hug and a kiss and get off my ship.”
He smiled down at Sophie. “Can I have a kiss?”
She raised her face, her lips pursed. He lightly touched his fingertip to her lips, pressing slightly, then he kissed her very gently, with very little pressure. He felt a shudder in her but didn’t know if it was from fear, nervousness, or wonderful lust. Somehow he doubted the latter.
“You will be careful,” he said yet again, patted her cheek, walked over to Jeremy, hugged the boy tightly, ruffled his hair, and said, “Keep her spirits up, Jeremy. I’ll return to England as soon as all this nonsense is taken care of. Be a good boy. Another thing. I’m quite fond of you so you will be careful of yourself as well.”
He strode down the gangplank. He watched it hauled onto the ship’s deck. He watched the sun rise full in the sky now and stood very still listening to Captain Mallory shouting his orders. He waved a final time to his bride and his new brother-in-law.
He continued to wait on the dock until the ship was gone from view. He turned then, smiling. She was safe now, completely safe. He whistled as he mount
ed his horse to return to Kimberly Hall.
At one o’clock that afternoon Sherman Cole arrived. Ryder smiled as he watched the man dismount and walk toward the veranda where he sat, a glass of lemonade in his hand. Samuel and Emile came out of the house and Ryder felt the relief radiating from them.
“What an unexpected surprise,” Ryder said, and yawned deeply. He didn’t rise. “Have you come to bring more discord, make more threats?”
“Damn you to hell, Sherbrooke!”
Ryder’s eyebrow went up. “I beg your pardon? I truly didn’t strike you that hard, though you deserved it.”
“I was certain you’d lied, I would have wagered all I possessed that you had lied, damn you. And you did, of course, to protect that little slut.”
“Where are all your bully boys?” Emile asked quickly before Ryder could rise from his chair and flatten Sherman Cole again.
“They’re looking for Thomas.”
“I wager you’ll have to pay him quite a bit of money once you catch up to him. He probably won’t trust you. You’ll have to convince him that you want him to help you hang Miss Stanton-Greville.”
“Pay him! Ha, I will hang the bastard! He lied to me, he made a fool of me.”
Now this was the wrong play, Ryder thought, blank-brained. This is a comedy, not a tragedy.
“What do you mean?” Samuel asked.
“Burgess wasn’t shot, nor was he stabbed, as Sherbrooke here said. He was garroted. Dammit, she couldn’t have killed him, she doesn’t have the strength.”
He turned away, stomped to his horse, mounted, and rode away, never once looking back.
Ryder didn’t move. “Dear God,” he said at last, “I didn’t have to marry her. I didn’t have to ship her and Jeremy back to England. To be only twenty-five years old and be done in by irony.”
“It’s better done,” Samuel said. “One never knows what Cole will do next.”
But Ryder was immersed in contemplation of his fate. Well, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad fate. One would have to see about that. He sighed and rose. He shook his head and said, “Garroted, the bastard was garroted.”
He shook his head again. “I’ll be damned,” he said, and walked to the stables.
CHAPTER 12
The English Channel, seven weeks later
SOPHIE AND JEREMY stood side by side on deck, the fog-laden wind blowing into their faces, tightly holding the wooden railing because the water was choppy, the waves splashing high and rocking even the solid barkentine with their force. Jeremy was nearly squealing with excitement because he’d been the first to see the English shoreline through the thick fog bank. Gravesend, he’d shouted. As for Sophie, she wanted to shout hallelujahs as the English coast neared. She felt equal parts of anticipation and belly-deep fear as she watched the billowing fog bank just off port. Nearly home, but not really hers and Jeremy’s home in Fowey, but Ryder’s home—Northcliffe Hall.
The trip had been long and uneventful. Captain Mallory and his first mate, Mr. Mattison, both puff-chested Scotsmen who had nearly identical bald heads, had kept Jeremy and her entertained with the best tall tales they’d ever heard.
Sophie had tried to structure the days as best she could. She gave Jeremy French lessons an hour each morning. Captain Mallory tutored Jeremy in astronomy and navigation, the first mate taught him geography and gave him access to his collection of novels and plays that filled his small cabin to overflowing. Jeremy was nearly through the Restoration. As for Sophie, she too had nearly read her way through all the first mate’s books as well. She occasionally wondered what she’d do when she turned the last page and closed the last book.
One afternoon several days before, Sophie and Jeremy were playing chess in their small cabin. A light rain splattered against the single porthole. The room was warm. Sophie played with verve and enthusiasm, but not much strategy. Jeremy, on the other hand, excelled in patience and tactics. He invariably beat her soundly, but it was slow torture, and Jeremy was heard to groan frequently.
She said after she’d moved her queen’s bishop, “We will be home soon. Rather, we will arrive in Southampton.”
“Yes, Ryder told me that a carriage would get us to Northcliffe Hall all in one day. He didn’t want us to have to stop at an inn for the night because we’re alone. He said I had to grow another foot at least before I could protect you properly.” Jeremy smiled then and added, “Ryder’s going to teach me how to fight.”
“I’m delighted it pleases you so, but heed me, love, one doesn’t necessarily need a man. I’m not a fool or helpless.”
“Of course you’re not like most girls,” Jeremy said, not looking up at her, his entire attention now on the position of his pieces and his burgeoning strategy. “Ryder said you’d say something like that. He also said that he was responsible for both of us now and that was the end to it.”
“Perhaps you would like to discuss some of the plays both of us have read.”
Jeremy easily accepted her change of subject. “I was reading one of the Restoration plays and Mr. Mattison saw it. I thought he’d throw it overboard he was so upset. He turned red in the face and actually sputtered at me. Even the top of his head turned red. It was a remarkable sight.”
Sophie chuckled. “Some of those plays are fairly racy. Perhaps you’d best show me what you plan to read before you read it.”
Jeremy frowned as he looked up at his sister. “I’ve got to learn all about men and women sometime, Sophie. In the plays they act pretty silly and do the most outlandish things. As for the other part of it, it just seems strange to me.”
“I think you’re right about the strange part,” Sophie said. She thought of Ryder and felt a pang of something—guilt? Anger? She wasn’t certain. She did know, however, that she missed him—his wit, his outrageousness, the way he teased her until her eyes nearly crossed with rage. She looked up when Jeremy moved his queen’s bishop pawn.
“Oh ho, it appears you want to trample my center.” She moved her king’s knight, a mindless move really, then sat back in her chair, her arms folded over her chest. “That should take care of your foolish hopes.”
Jeremy said as he fiddled with a rook, “You’re not very happy, Sophie. You miss Ryder, don’t you? I know I do. He’s a great brother-in-law. I’m glad you married him. I’m glad we left Jamaica, because we are English, you know. But still it’s kind of scary.” He finally released the rook and moved his queen’s bishop instead. “Do you think his family will like us?”
“I pray so, Jeremy.” Nor did she miss Jamaica. All the happiness she’d experienced on Jamaica could be weighed in her left hand.
“Well, I don’t see why they wouldn’t like us. We’re nice and we know how to use our forks at the dinner table. You shouldn’t have moved that knight. It was a bad move. I’m not just going to trample your center. I don’t have to. Checkmate, Sophie.”
“Why,” she said aloud, “don’t I ever learn?”
Sophie shook away the memory. She prayed every night that she and Jeremy wouldn’t be shunted aside by Ryder’s powerful brother, Douglas Sherbrooke. After that she simply stared off into space. She didn’t know what to pray for. She couldn’t begin to imagine her future. The wind whipped her hair into her eyes and she slapped it away.
Seven interminable weeks. It was nearly over. She wondered how much longer it would be before Ryder returned home. She would have to be a wife to him, whatever that would mean.
She immediately shied away from that.
Jeremy waved to Clancey, the third mate, a young man full of high spirits and liking for children. “Aye,” he’d told Sophie at the beginning of the long voyage, “I was one of nine nippers, and there was only me ma to see to us. Don’t ye worry about Jeremy here. He be a good lad. I’ll see he don’t go headfirst into the briny deep.” Sophie liked him. He appeared utterly disinterested in her; some of the other sailors looked to be interested but they kept their distance, thanks to a frank discussion the captain had given them. “
As the only woman on board, ma’am,” he’d told her, “you will still be careful.” And she had.
She was bored. She was also worried.
She made herself dizzy trying to structure the future for her and Jeremy.
Southampton at eight o’clock on a drizzly, foggy morning was an alien landscape with men yelling on the docks, drays and wagons of all sizes being loaded and unloaded. As it turned out, the first mate, Mr. Mattison, escorted them to the Outrigger Inn and hired a carriage and two outriders, just as Ryder had demanded.
Ryder had his way even here. She’d had no choice in the matter. She smiled up at Mr. Mattison and offered him her hand. “Thank you. You were kind to us. Good-bye.”
Jeremy begged to ride on top of the carriage with the coachman, but Sophie said he couldn’t until after the fog burned off and the sun came out.
The weather remained horrible.
Jeremy fidgeted until Sophie released him to ride with the coachman. It was after a lunch of codfish and strawberries that Sophie’s stomach rebelled. Four hours later when the carriage pulled into the long winding drive of Northcliffe Hall, there was no one inside the carriage. Sophie and Jeremy sat huddled together against the drizzling rain, the driver pressed against Jeremy’s other side.
An hour before Sophie had ceased to care. She felt trickles of rain snake down the back of her neck. She was shuddering from cold. There was gooseflesh on her arms.
“Goodness, Sophie, it’s so big!”
She looked and swallowed. Northcliffe Hall was overwhelming, a huge Palladian mansion of three stories. She couldn’t imagine real people living in that awesome structure. The two outriders, bored and wondering why the devil their escort had been needed in the first place—good hell, the girl had ridden on top like a serving wench—accepted payment from Sophie and took themselves off. As for the coachman, he scratched his head, stared from Sophie to Jeremy and back again and said, “Well, miss, this is the fancy cove’s abode what ye wanted to come to. Northcliffe ’All. All right an’ tight. Be ye sure this is where ye should be?”
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