Not used to alcohol, Justina only sipped at her glass. Faith and Charity were not so abstemious and soon required theirs to be refilled.
Justina sat quietly. Sir Thomas tried to coax her into conversation, but she responded with no more than the odd word, which, strangely, seemed to encourage him to greater efforts.
Then, at the end of the meal, it was announced that dancing was to take place in the Lounge.
The chairs had all been moved back and a carpet removed from a section of polished floor. A pianist was playing a Sir Roger de Coverly and passengers were already enjoying themselves on the floor.
Sir Thomas found them places at a small table, ordered some refreshing drinks and asked Mrs. Arbuthnot to dance.
Admiring his manners, Justina watched the two of them perform in a stately manner.
“How I wish I could see Lord Castleton,” sighed Faith, craning her neck in case she could discover him in a corner.
Charity gave a wave to the two young Subalterns as they came into the Lounge, laughing together.
“I say, what luck,” Tony said.
“Beauties waiting for us,” agreed Bertie, stroking his moustache.
“You may not be the ones we are waiting for,” giggled Charity.
Faith and Charity appeared delighted to joke with them and quite soon Sir Thomas brought Mrs. Arbuthnot back and asked Justina to dance a waltz.
For a few moments Justina enjoyed the feel of Sir Thomas’s strong arm around her waist.
But as he guided her skilfully into the rhythm of the dance, accompanied by the steady throb of the ship’s engines, he grasped her more tightly and began to murmur how beautiful she was looking.
“You are the loveliest woman in the room,” he whispered into her ear. “You have no idea how you make me feel. It is as if I am a young man again.”
Justina did not know how to respond, so she smiled slightly and said nothing.
“Your looks can drive a man mad,” added Sir Thomas, holding her ever more tightly as he twirled her round.
She tried not to think how much more she would have enjoyed dancing with Lord Castleton. She was sure he would never embarrass her in this way.
“I could travel several thousand miles without meeting a girl as attractive and stimulating as you, do you know that?”
“Sir Thomas,” protested Justina, now alarmed that the situation was developing beyond her control.
“Ah, you are such an innocent,” he murmured. “Can I help it if you fire me to say these words to you?”
As the dance came to an end, Sir Thomas enquired,
“Shall we go on deck? The moon will be reflected in the water in a most romantic way.”
“You are – very kind,” Justina stammered, “but my wretched headache – is back. I will retire.”
Not waiting for a response, she moved over to the Arbuthnots and wished them goodnight and then heard Sir Thomas say that he would accompany her to her cabin in case she felt faint.
“Thank you, sir, but it will not be necessary.”
It was no use.
Sir Thomas gripped her elbow and steered her out of the lounge.
Justina said nothing and was immensely relieved that Sir Thomas held back from offering yet more of the compliments she found so difficult to cope with.
She unlocked the door of her cabin and turned to thank him for his courtesy and wish him goodnight.
Then she was horrified to find herself propelled into the cabin.
Sir Thomas’s foot kicked the door closed, his arms held her close and his eager mouth found hers.
Vainly, she attempted to free herself.
The more she struggled, the stronger became his grip.
His mouth seemed to devour hers. He held her head and removed his lips just far enough to say,
“God, you are divine. An innocent wild rose is what you are and you are mine!”
Before she could recover her breath enough to scream, his mouth once more crunched down on hers. His strong body pressed more insistently against hers.
Feeling that she was drowning, Justina tried to kick out, but her long skirt prevented her from landing a useful blow and she failed to dislodge his hold.
Then she found herself pushed onto the bed with Sir Thomas lying on top of her.
Justina struggled more and more desperately and at last managed to cry out.
Suddenly the cabin door opened.
“Miss Mansell!” came Mrs. Arbuthnot’s outraged voice. “Sir Thomas!”
With a groan he released Justina and rose, running a hand through his dishevelled hair and pulling down his waistcoat.
“I came to reassure myself that Justina was not succumbing to some ailment,” snapped Mrs. Arbuthnot. “Instead I enter upon a scene that would do justice to a house of ill repute. I can only assume, Sir Thomas, that you are engaged to Miss Mansell.”
Sir Thomas seemed taken aback.
Justina lay for a moment gathering her composure before she struggled up and attempted to smooth down the silk of her dress.
“No,” she called in a small voice that did not carry and was quickly covered by Sir Thomas speaking in a loud and definite tone that seemed to defy anybody to disagree with him.
“Indeed, Mrs. Arbuthnot, I have just asked Miss Mansell to take pity on me and promise to be my bride.”
His hand grasped Justina’s and his thumb caressed the back of her hand in a gentle gesture that was quite different from his violent kisses.
She grew a little calmer. Maybe the way he had pounced upon her had been the result of alcohol as he had drunk a great deal during the evening, and maybe he was now a little more sober. He certainly seemed to be more caring.
“Indeed?” said Mrs. Arbuthnot with a sharp look at Sir Thomas. “Well, Justina, what a lucky girl you are!”
“But – ” Justina started.
Mrs. Arbuthnot enfolded her in her arms, preventing her from continuing.
“Darling child, I am so happy for you. Sir Thomas is such a catch! Your parents, oh, your parents will be so delighted and so will the dear Viscountess. Fancy, not five days out of Southampton and you have attached the most eligible bachelor on board! And you, Sir Thomas, have caught the most desirable of all the girls, apart, of course, from my lovely daughters.”
“Mrs. Arbuthnot,” she tried again. “There is some – ”
Once more she was interrupted.
“What is going on here?”
In the doorway stood Lord Castleton.
“I was asleep but I thought I heard someone cry out.”
He wore a handsome silk dressing gown over striped pyjamas. It was obvious that he had risen from his bed. His hair was disarranged and he looked anxious.
“Miss Mansell, are you all right?”
“Miss Mansell has just announced that she is engaged to Sir Thomas,” gushed Mrs. Arbuthnot inaccurately but triumphantly. “Isn’t that the most enchanting news you have ever heard? A shipboard romance, no less.”
Sir Thomas put his arm around Justina’s shoulders, a touch that made her shiver for a reason she could not identify.
“Miss Mansell has made me the happiest of men,” he said, his voice clear and confident.
Lord Castleton looked stunned.
“Miss Mansell, is this true?”
Justina looked up at Sir Thomas, who smiled at her, his teeth very white.
“Why else would I be in this cabin?” he volunteered.
“Indeed, I as Justina’s chaperone, would never otherwise allow it,” Mrs. Arbuthnot declared.
“Miss Mansell?” Lord Castleton queried, an eyebrow raised in enquiry.
Justina felt helpless.
If she denied the engagement, Lord Castleton would want to know why she had allowed Sir Thomas into her cabin.
Would he believe she had had no choice?
Moreover, it was true that Sir Thomas was most attractive and an eligible bachelor. He seemed enamoured with her and Mrs. Arbuthnot was quite right, he
r parents would be delighted.
A fiancé who was handsome, rich and well-born.
What more could she want?
She tried to smile at Lord Castleton.
“It has all happened so quickly,” she whispered.
“I see.”
Lord Castleton looked as though he did not see, but could not argue the matter.
“Watson, you are a fortunate man and I congratulate you. I trust you will both be very happy. I wish you all goodnight,” he said and left.
Justina sank down on the bed.
But Sir Thomas lifted her up and placed a light kiss on her mouth that was so much gentler than the throbbing passion he had shown earlier.
“You are the most beautiful of girls and I am, indeed, the happiest of men,” he whispered in her ear. “We will talk more tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes,” fluttered Mrs. Arbuthnot. “If I know Sir Thomas, he will be all eagerness to draw you into a corner and conduct a lovey-dovey conversation at the earliest opportunity. Goodnight, my dearest Justina. Oh, how excited the girls will be when I tell them.”
Still twittering, she shepherded Sir Thomas out of the cabin.
Left alone at last, Justina collapsed onto her bed in a torrent of tears.
How had it happened?
How had she become engaged to Sir Thomas Watson?
There were only two things she could be certain of. One was that her parents would be delighted, the other was that the only man in the world she loved was the one in the cabin next door.
When she had seen Lord Castleton’s look of surprise as he was told of the engagement, she knew that if only he had been her fiancé she would indeed be the happiest of women.
As it was, she was the unhappiest.
What was she to do?
CHAPTER SIX
Lord Castleton woke with a feeling of doom hanging over him.
It took him a little time to identify the reason.
Then he remembered the scene he had interrupted in the next door cabin.
As he shaved, he reflected that there was something distinctly fishy about the situation. Ariadne, he thought, would have been quick to tell him that a man such as Thomas Watson could not be trusted and that no young girl should be allowed to link her future to his.
He rinsed the last of the soap from his face and remembered how Justina had confided that her parents were expecting her to make a good match and that they would be very disappointed if her Indian adventure did not produce a husband.
Well, she had not had to wait to reach the Subcontinent to make what the world would declare an ideal engagement.
Except if it turned out to be true that Watson had lost all his money. Was that his reason for the engagement? Did he expect to recoup his fortunes through marriage?
No doubt Justina would bring a respectable dowry to her husband.
He curled his lip. Marrying for money would fit in with his opinion of the man.
And what of her?
The idea that Justina had fallen in love with Watson’s dubious charms was somehow offensive.
He shrugged his shoulders into a dark blue blazer, flicked some fluff off his white trousers and decided the matter required careful thought, best carried out whilst exercising Breck.
As he closed and locked his cabin door, he found Justina was doing the same with hers.
“Good morning, Miss Mansell,” he greeted her in a determinedly cheerful voice. “I trust you had a restful night after all the excitement?”
“I am fine,” she murmured.
He was shocked at the change in her.
Gone was the air of eagerness that had been such a distinctive feature, the light in the eyes that announced here was someone who enjoyed life. Instead she appeared to be walking in a dream that was more of a nightmare.
He made up his mind.
“I am going to exercise Breck, why not come with me and let Muffin have the fun of meeting up with her friend again?” he suggested. “I am taking a ball with me, the sea is so calm now I feel it will be possible to allow Breck a little fun.”
She flinched, as though fun was something she could not contemplate.
“Come on, the sun is shining.” He held out a hand. “No one will see us, it’s too early and Breck and Muffin are the only dogs up there anyway.”
Justina suddenly smiled, it was like sunlight breaking through dark clouds.
“Why not?”
“Sea air is so invigorating,” he mused as they emerged onto the upper deck.
All around them was the deep blue of the Mediterranean and overhead a sun that blazed brightly and soon would be afire with heat.
Justina took out an ecstatic dog and allowed her face to be licked all over.
Lord Castleton brought out Breck and soon both dogs were exchanging greetings and happily circling each other.
Some of Justina’s colour came back and also, it seemed to Lord Castleton, a little of her zest for life.
Finally the dogs were returned to their kennels and the Steward thanked.
As they started to leave the upper deck, Lord Castleton decided that he had to say something. Now, if ever, was the time to capitalise on her view of him as a member of her father’s generation.
“Miss Mansell,” he started, holding open the door to the companionway. “I have to refer to last night. I flatter myself that we have achieved a friendship whereby I can, perhaps, stand in as something of a surrogate uncle.”
A curious expression flitted across her face.
He continued,
“In that capacity and as a long standing friend of your father’s, I feel in some way responsible for you on this ship. I fear that you do not seem as happy as a newly engaged young lady should be. If there is anything I can do to help rectify the situation, I hope you will tell me.”
For a moment he thought she would confide in him, then she said stiffly,
“Lord Castleton, there is nothing wrong. My relationship with Sir Thomas, well, it has been rather sudden, that is all.”
She gave a huge gulp on the last words and fled down the companionway.
He watched her go, feeling he had made a bad fist of it.
More than ever he was convinced that Justina had somehow been forced into a situation she did not welcome.
He had failed with her and he recognised that there was no point in talking to Mrs. Arbuthnot. She was a silly woman who could only see the engagement as desirable.
The only other person he could tackle was Watson, the last one he wanted to have anything to do with.
It took some time to track the man down but, around ten o’clock, Lord Castleton found him in the otherwise deserted smoking room, dragging on a cigar, a large brandy in front of him.
“Come to congratulate me again, have you, Castleton?” he crowed.
“Not exactly, Watson. As you know, I am a friend of Lord Mansell’s and therefore feel some responsibility for Miss Mansell.”
“Indeed? My impression was that it was something else you felt for Miss Mansell,” Sir Thomas sneered.
Lord Castleton took a deep breath and tried to maintain his calm.
“Last night I received the definite impression that all was not as it should have been. You may well have felt pressured into a situation that in the cold light of day you might regret.”
“Look here, has Justina, Miss Mansell, been saying anything to you?” Sir Thomas asked angrily.
Now Lord Castleton was certain there was something wrong about this engagement.
“Nothing,” he replied shortly. “I merely want to point out that at present only four people know about this situation, you and Miss Mansell, Mrs. Arbuthnot and myself. It would not be difficult for us to forget anything has happened and you would be free to pursue, well, to pursue whatever other interests you may have in mind.”
A puff of cigar smoke was blown in his face.
“I have to tell you, Castleton, that both Miss Mansell and I are happy with our engagement. Once before
you did me out of happiness and you are not going to do it again.”
“What on earth do you mean?” Lord Castleton was genuinely taken aback.
“Don’t say you have forgotten snatching Ariadne Somerset from under my nose?” Sir Thomas gestured to a Steward to refill his glass.
“Don’t be so ridiculous.”
The other man’s eyes narrowed.
“How dare you call me ridiculous.”
“You had no more chance of engaging Ariadne’s affections than I have of, well, of navigating this ship.”
Lord Castleton was incensed at the man’s presumption.
Sir Thomas extinguished the remains of his cigar, jabbing the stub into the ashtray in a pent-up fury.
“You always had too much pride, Castleton. You cannot stand it that Miss Mansell prefers me to you.” He fumbled for his cigar case. “Let me warn you, you interfering cad. If you persuade Miss Mansell to break off this engagement, I will see her branded a heartless minx. The sort of girl who leads a man on and then leaves him in the lurch. That, I think, would not suit either you or her.”
Lord Castleton stood.
There was no reasoning with the man and he realised, with a sinking heart, that he had made matters worse. If Watson had been regretting the engagement before he arrived, he certainly was not now.
“I hope Miss Mansell is genuinely happy at the prospect of becoming Lady Watson,” he said slowly. “But if you harm her in any way, let me warn you that there are no lengths to which I will not go to see you damned in hell!”
He turned and stalked off.
“Huh!” came a triumphant exclamation from behind him. “Beaten you, haven’t I?”
Lord Castleton sought the fresh air outside.
He stood holding the rail of the promenade deck and taking deep breaths, trying to regain his composure.
He faced the fact that Watson had put one issue to rights.
He, Marcus Castleton, had fallen in love with a girl some fifteen years younger than himself, who regarded him as nothing more than a friend of her father.
*
After leaving Lord Castleton, Justina had breakfast in the Saloon.
The idea of asking for it in her cabin was impossible. In there she could only think of the way Sir Thomas had pressed his attentions on her the previous night.
Touching the Stars Page 9
