When a Stranger Loves Me (Love at Pembroke Palace Book 3)

by Julianne MacLean

  She shivered noticeably.

  “No? You don’t think you would be better off? Good. Then we are agreed.” He started for the door. “Go and pack your things. I don’t want to be kept waiting in the morning, because I don’t think I’ll be able to tolerate one more minute than I have to on this god-awful island prison.”

  With that, he walked out and went straight upstairs to the guest chamber he had occupied for the past fortnight and wondered where the hell he had been for the other two weeks he’d been missing.

  Blake felt suddenly nauseous and wretched into the chamber pot.

  “You have no choice now,” Chelsea’s mother said ten minutes later, as she barged into Chelsea’s room and shut the door behind her. “Sebastian has informed me that Lord Blake knows of your deceitful scheming, and that he is not pleased you used him for stud.”

  “Mother...” Chelsea sat up on the bed.

  “Hush! I should never have agreed to it. I have indulged you over the years, Chelsea, and this is my punishment. It appears there is nothing to be done now but to control the damage. The child—if there is one—can no longer be hidden or passed off as your brother’s, therefore you must go to Lord Jerome instantly.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Chelsea rose to her feet.

  “You must leave here tomorrow morning and marry your cousin straightaway. Let him have you in his bed as soon as it can be arranged—before the ceremony if you can manage it. If you bear him a child, no one will ever know the difference, not even us. We will never speak of it again.”

  Chelsea frowned in dismay. “Mother, I cannot.”

  “You can, and you will. I will not tolerate any more rebellions from you. You will do as I say, whether you like it or not.”

  Chelsea’s blood began to boil in her veins. “No, I will not do as you say.” She strode to her dressing room and spotted her trunk. “I have already agreed to go to Pembroke Palace with Lord Blake.” She dragged the trunk through the doorway to the edge of the carpet.

  Her mother stopped pacing. “I beg your pardon? He has proposed to you? Surely not. He is the son of a duke. I don’t believe it.”

  Chelsea flicked the latch, lifted the heavy lid, and flung it open. A damp, musty smell wafted out, causing her to recoil in disgust. How long had it been since she’d traveled?

  “Not exactly,” she explained, turning her face away. “He wishes to know if I am carrying his child. If I am, we will be married, and the child will have his name and inherit his fortune.”

  It was the truth. Some of it, at least.

  “And if you are not?” her mother retorted in horror, following her back to the dressing room.

  “Then we will part ways,” Chelsea explained. “I will come home.” She reached for two gowns, folded them over her arms and carried them back to the trunk.

  Her mother’s cheeks flared bloodred. “You expect me to agree to that? To allow you to go off on your own with no chaperone, nor any guarantee that you will be taken care of? That we will be taken care of?”

  “Lady Hawthorne will act as chaperone,” Chelsea replied.

  “But Lord Black will wait to decide if it is necessary to marry you? This is preposterous! What gentleman of good breeding would ever suggest such a thing? I am appalled, Chelsea, and I will not allow it. You will go to Lord Jerome. He has already offered to give you his name. It is a certainty.”

  Chelsea shook her head and returned to the dressing room. “You cannot hand me over to whomever you favor at any given moment, Mother. I have agreed to go with Lord Blake to Pembroke Palace, and I will not break my word. I have already engaged in enough unscrupulous behavior as it is. It is time I did the right thing for once. I will not make matters worse by trying again to pass off one man’s child as another’s.”

  “But this is no different from what you originally planned,” her mother argued. “You were going to lie to Lord Blake and never reveal the truth to him. What has changed?”

  Chelsea stopped in the dressing room doorway. “I suppose I have changed. I have discovered my conscience, Mother, as well as my heart. I had no idea it would be like this—that I would come to care so deeply for Blake—and I want to do the right thing. I want to be able to sleep at night, knowing I did not wrong an innocent man.”

  “The right thing? What if he jilts you and sends you home? What will you do then?”

  Chelsea tossed two more gowns into the trunk and stood for a moment, thinking about her future. “I will live out my days with my self-respect, at least.” She glanced up at her mother. “If, on the other hand, I am carrying his child, you will be able to bask in the splendid knowledge that you will be grandmother to a child of Pembroke Palace. A house of dukes. That ought to cheer you up, Mother. Maybe if you say your prayers every night, all the current heirs will expire from illness or accident.”

  Her mother’s eyes darkened. “That is uncalled for.”

  “Is it? I was under the impression you valued a title above all else, including the happiness of your only daughter.”

  Chelsea returned to the dressing room, but her mother did not follow. When Chelsea came back out with her nightgown and undergarments draped over her arm, her mother was standing by the door with tears in her eyes.

  Chelsea halted as a powerful wave of emotion washed over her. All she wanted was for her mother to understand what was important to her, and to respect her decision. She had not expected this. She had never, in all her life, seen actual tears in her mother’s eyes. Was the woman finally experiencing a pang of conscience?

  Still uncertain of her mother’s true feelings, Chelsea took a step forward and softened her tone. “Have you never wished you had done something differently, Mother? Have you never regretted anything? Because I don’t want to ever look back on this day and regret my actions. I don’t want to live out my life ashamed of what I did.”

  For a long moment, her mother said nothing. She stood in front of the door watching Chelsea fold her belongings, when it should be her maid’s task to do so, and she was making a terrible mess of it.

  “Go with him, then,” her mother said. “Do what you must to ease your mind if it means that much to you. And if he sends you home...” She paused, then cleared her throat. “If he sends you home, we will find a way to manage. I will be here waiting, and together we will decide what must be done for both of our futures.” She started to turn away but stopped in the doorway. “I will pray that you have a safe journey.”

  She turned and walked out, leaving Chelsea to sink into a chair in a shocking and most unexpected state of astonishment, for her mother had finally begun to listen to what she had to say.

  And perhaps she, too, was discovering that her heart was not impervious.

  Melissa sat down on Chelsea’s bed and began to weep. “Oh, Chelsea, I am so sorry. How could it have come to this? It is all my fault for agreeing to it. We should never have let you do what you did.”

  “It is not your fault,” Chelsea told her as she went from wardrobe to dresser, searching for more undergarments and continuing to throw everything haphazardly into the trunk. “It was my idea, remember? I wanted to do it, and not just to give you and Sebastian a child, but because I wanted some pleasure for myself. I was infatuated with him. You know I was.”

  “But surely you are not infatuated with him now, after he has treated you so severely.”

  “I can hardly blame him,” Chelsea admitted. “I lied to him and took advantage of his situation. We all did. He has every right to despise me. And besides that, you know as well as I do that an unmarried woman has few choices in our world. We do not have the freedom that men enjoy. We cannot pursue a career.” Chelsea stopped suddenly in the middle of the room with her hairbrush in one hand, her mirror in the other, and looked across at her sister-in-law with bewilderment. “Or perhaps it’s possible. I don’t know. Sometimes I dream about it… I am just sorr
y that you will not have the child you hoped for. Despite my selfish impulses, I truly did want to make you happy.”

  “You mustn’t think of me,” Melissa said, rising to her feet and wiping away her tears. “We will be fine. I accepted quite some time ago that my life was unfolding as fate intended it to. If I am not meant to be a mother, then so be it. I am not going to argue with God.”

  Chelsea walked to the window and looked out at the dark sea. The rain was coming down in sharp pellets that struck the glass in front of her face. She tilted her head forward to rest against it as a wave of melancholy washed over her. It seemed all she had done lately was argue not only with God, but with the people closest to her heart. Blake more than anyone, and now she was leaving her home and family to venture back into a world that had shunned her seven years ago.

  She felt as if she were standing on the edge of the cliff, teetering in the wind, about to fall into the sea at any moment.

  In the window’s reflection, she saw Melissa approach.

  “I will be honest,” Melissa said. “I am surprised you did not put up more of a fight about going with him, because if you wanted an escape, we would help you. You could go somewhere on the island and hide. You do not have to do this.”

  Chelsea chuckled cynically. “How very theatrical that sounds, but no thank you. I believe I will take my medicine, no matter how bitter the taste.” She turned around, leaned on the windowsill and sighed. “And I must confess something private to you, Melissa—something you may find surprising.”

  “What is it?”

  Chelsea tilted her head back and marveled at how this outlandish situation had unfolded, when she had entered into it believing she was in full control of her emotions and her destiny. How wrong she had been.

  “As strange as it sounds, deep down there is a part of me that hopes I am carrying his child, and that he will be forced to marry me.”

  “Why?”

  Chelsea suspected her sister-in-law already knew the answer to that question but wanted to hear her confess it.

  “If that happens,” she explained, “I will at least have a chance to earn his forgiveness and try to make him happy. Somehow.”

  “Chelsea—”

  She did not let Melissa continue. “I cannot forget all the joys I have known since he came here, and how happy I’ve been over the past few weeks. The hours I spent with him cannot compare to anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. I have come to realize that I was living in a bubble, not really living at all—until he arrived and I fell completely in love with him.”

  Melissa took hold of her hand.

  “Despite our quarrel tonight,” Chelsea continued, “and despite the fact that I know he hates me now—and rightly so—I still want him. I want to go with him. I could not bear to marry Lord Jerome after knowing what it feels like to be with someone you love.”

  “Do you think he is capable of forgiving you?” Melissa asked.

  “I don’t know. Right now it seems impossible, but I must at least try to make things right. Perhaps there is a chance.”

  “I suppose,” Melissa said, “if that is the way you feel...”

  “It is.”

  Her sister-in-law straightened and nodded. “Then clearly you have an important journey ahead of you.” She glanced down at the sloppy state of Chelsea’s trunk. “And I, for one, will not allow you to arrive at a duke’s palace with all your gowns wrinkled. Come. Let us get you properly packed.”

  Chapter 17

  The waters across the Channel tossed the ship like a weightless toy, and Chelsea was unbearably ill. She had stepped aboard hoping that once they were underway, she would find an opportunity to speak to Blake privately and tell him that she was sorry for everything. She did not know if he would be willing to hear her out, but she was determined to try. She was not well enough, however, to rise from her bunk, much less leave her cabin, so all her grand intentions were dashed onto the shoreline as soon as they broke away from the Jersey coast.

  Sadly, after only a few hours at sea, she had no strength or energy left in her body to even wish otherwise. All she could do was lie like a stone in her cabin with a bucket on the floor beside her, accepting the fact that this was another form of punishment, which was certainly justified, while she dreamed of the blessed moment they would reach dry land.

  “I think she’s sick,” Rebecca said to Devon as she approached her husband on the sloping deck of the ship. Cold spray flew up over the weather rails as the bow plunged down the trough of a massive wave. Rebecca held onto her husband’s shoulder to keep her footing.

  “Have you tried to do anything for her?”

  “Not yet,” Rebecca replied. “I only heard her moaning in her cabin as I passed by. I knocked and asked if everything was all right, and she said it was, but I don’t think she was being completely honest with me.”

  The wind blew Devon’s thick black hair away from his face as he looked out at the raging water. “According to Blake, the woman has a deficiency when it comes to honesty.”

  “Yes.” Rebecca was quiet for a moment. “But I find it so difficult to believe she actually did what he claims. To use a complete stranger in order to bear a secret child for her brother. It is beyond all ethics and propriety. I simply cannot imagine it.”

  “It is shocking, indeed,” Devon replied. “Perhaps that is why I am so worried about Blake. I am troubled by his actions and his state of mind. Not only has he lost his memory, but he is dragging this woman back with us like a dog on a chain. It is not like him at all, and I am surprised he even wanted her to come. After all that he’s been through—to be taken advantage like that—one would think he’d want to leave her behind.”

  “Perhaps it is not so strange,” Rebecca replied. “She could be carrying his child, and it would be equally out of character for him to walk away from that responsibility.” She glanced over her shoulder at her brother-in-law, who was standing alone on the other side of the ship, his cloak whipping in the wind. “Besides, he insists she has come willingly and that she understands his intentions—that he may or may not marry her when we arrive at Pembroke. So perhaps he did not actually drag her. And who knows? She might very well be pleased by this outcome, if she is the scheming type, for he is a Pembroke, and by any woman’s standards a brilliant catch.”

  Devon sighed. “Whether her reputation was tarnished in the past or not, wouldn’t it have been better for us to leave her at home with her family until her condition could be ascertained?”

  “But Blake was adamant,” Rebecca replied.

  “I suppose we cannot blame him. How could he ever trust the Neufelds to tell him the truth?”

  Rebecca shook her head sorrowfully as she watched Blake. “Oh, Devon, what has happened to him? He is not the same man, and I do not understand why he seems to resent us so much. All we did was tell him where he comes from and who he is. He seems so angry.”

  “Perhaps it is not us he resents, but the situation in general. He must be very frustrated about his memory loss, and angry over whatever happened on the night he was lost, not to mention what happened after he was found—to be used and deceived in such a reprehensible way by his hosts and caregivers. And then strangers arrive and tell him that he must marry by Christmas because his Father has ordered it in his will.”

  “If only we knew what happened to him,” Rebecca said. “Do you think he will ever remember? What if he does not? What if he remains a stranger to us forever?”

  Devon watched his brother for a moment as the ship sailed over the waves and the spray flew up over the bowsprit. “Perhaps John Fenton will be able to shed some light on the events when we find him.”

  “If we ever do find him,” she replied. “Despite all your searching, you and Vincent have not been able to find any trace of the family.”

  “Perhaps Vincent had better luck in France,” Devon said. “
I have already sent word to him that we have located Blake, so he will soon return to Pembroke, and then we will discover what he has learned.”

  A giant wave crashed thunderously against the hull, and the captain called out a command to his crew to trim the sails.

  “In the meantime,” Rebecca said, as two young sailors contended with the rigging behind them, “what shall we do about our seasick travel companion?”

  Devon’s expression softened as he touched his wife’s cheek. “Despite her past conduct, she is without her family and therefore under our protection. So why don’t you go below and see if there is anything you can do to make her more comfortable.”

  Rebecca nodded, then turned to go below deck.

  Chelsea was just beginning to think her life had come to a cruel yet deserving conclusion when a knock sounded at her cabin door. She did not have the strength to answer. All she could do was lie there in her swirling bunk and stare up at the dizzying wooden beams over her head.

  “Lady Chelsea, it’s Rebecca. If you will let me in, I will see if there is anything that I can do to help you.”

  Perhaps you can throw me overboard, Chelsea thought.

  Five minutes later—or perhaps it was an hour, she had no idea—a key slipped into the lock, the door opened, and a steward held it open for Lady Hawthorne, who walked in on unsteady feet. The ship pitched and rolled, and the marchioness stumbled forward and grabbed hold of the bulkhead. The steward backed out and closed the cabin door behind him.

  “You poor dear.” Lady Hawthorne removed the bucket and set it outside the room, then went to the porcelain washbasin, dipped a towel into the water, and returned to wipe Chelsea’s face.