“Ain’t like him to forget crucial things,” Captain Fergus said. “Oh, well. The power of Cupid’s bow, that’s what I always say. Ain’t nothing like it. Not ‘ere, not on land.”
The crew chatted for a while about the power of women in a conversation that was not entirely tasteful.
The sailor’s theory that the duke simply wanted a few bottles of rum seemed most unlikely.
The Duke of Belmonte had never seemed dependent on drink, and the Duke and Duchess of Vernon had seemed equally determined to reach Guernsey soon. He doubted the duke would divert his journey for an impromptu ship inspection or to have his wife peer into the ocean to examine fish.
The fish here couldn’t be that different from the fish located on the course to Guernsey.
Before long, they were throwing a rope to the other ship, the sailors set up a gangway between the two ships, and people were coming on board.
“Adam! Adam!” A voice broke through the noise.
A sweet voice. A lovely soprano. A voice he would recognize anywhere, a voice that would always remain in his heart: Isla’s voice.
For a moment he froze, unsure if his ears had deceived him. Perhaps he was simply hearing his heart.
But there were the Duke and Duchess of Vernon, the Duke and Duchess of Belmonte, the Earl and Countess of McIntyre, Mr. and Lord Hamish’s wife... And in the midst of all those couples, was Isla.
My Isla.
He shook his head, as if the action might admonish his soul.
Her hair was loose and flowing, and her dark dress was more suitable to pacing ship decks than ballrooms.
But it was her. Definitely her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Her face whitened, but then she raised her chin slightly, and strode toward him. “You left.”
“I did,” he said. “I had to.” He frowned. “Did you get my letter? I-I hoped it would get to you. It explained everything. I’m so sorry.” He took her hands in his, and then dropped them quickly, despising the current of heat that flowed from her touch, the current he would never feel again. “So very sorry.”
“It’s a romantic moment!” Captain Fergus exclaimed, and the crew applauded.
They shouted and clapped.
Thabisa padded toward Isla and hugged her leg.
Adam didn’t blame Thabisa. He felt like taking Isla into his arms too, though there were other parts of even more interest than her leg.
Isla gazed hopefully at him.
“Nothing has changed,” he said. “Though it was so very sweet of you to come here, I’m afraid it’s just made parting even harder.”
“But we don’t have to part!” she said. “If you don’t want to be in England, we can go elsewhere. Perhaps France. Or India or the Cape Colony or anywhere else in the world. I could work!”
He arched his eyebrows.
“My sewing is excellent,” Isla said. “I could set up a dressmaker’s shop there.”
“No.” Adam shook his head firmly.
“No?” Isla raised her eyebrows. “We can be together. I-I love you.”
“And I love you too,” he said, his voice solemn. “I love you so much. You are my sun and my moon. You are every star in the sky, every flower on earth. But I cannot be with you.”
She blinked, incomprehension on her face. “I don’t understand.”
“You were in danger. I can’t have you remain in danger.”
“Then I’ll come with you,” she said, raising her chin further. “You won’t be able to get rid of me. It will be...wonderful.”
For a moment he allowed himself to imagine her by his side, traveling the world together.
But he couldn’t let her do that. “It won’t be like when you travel on holiday. It will be hard. I don’t want to put you through that. I refuse to do that.”
“It will be fun,” she said brightly. “You’ll see. And we’ll be together, and that’s what matters.”
It was so tempting to say yes.
Didn’t my mother say yes?
He swallowed back the words to say she could join him. His mother had come from a small English village, and had been smitten when she’d met his father. She’d joined his father when he’d begun a civil service career in India, but his father’s minor credentials did not go as far in India as they’d hoped.
His mother had found herself alone, in a country far from her family, with a man whom she no longer adored, whom she no longer even liked. The stresses of their life had shattered their relationship.
His mother had died young, after another hard birth, not helped by the lack of good doctors. If there’d been a good midwife, his parents hadn’t found her. His sisters had all died young, when they’d survived past birth at all.
He’d seen his mother’s struggles, her unhappiness, her fear.
He didn’t want that to happen to Isla.
He didn’t want to see the love fall from her eyes.
He didn’t want to see her struggle, to see her spirit break.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered finally.
Her eyes widened, realization dawning.
“Was it a yes?” Captain Fergus shouted cheerfully.
Isla’s brother hushed him.
Isla’s posture had gone rigid and then she stepped away. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I-I see that now.”
She strode tentatively toward the others, and then her brother opened his arms, and she collapsed into them.
Adam’s heart twisted.
The others glared at him, but it didn’t matter. The only person who mattered was Isla, and he’d just broken her heart.
His heart was broken as well. He inhaled. It was for the best.
She might like travel, but the life of a nomad was no life for her. Perhaps she didn’t see that now, but she would see it eventually.
Next year she would be grateful she didn’t go with him. He was certain.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lord Hamish stepped toward Adam, and his eyes flashed. “You’re an idiot!”
Adam drew back. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a bloody idiot!” Lord Hamish expanded. His eyes hadn’t stopped flashing, and his face had taken on a curious purple shade.
“Hamish. You mustn’t say that.” Isla’s voice quivered, and she didn’t meet Adam’s eyes.
“I bloody well will!” Lord Hamish continued.
Adam blinked.
Lord Hamish hadn’t been prone to curses before. Of the two brothers, Lord Hamish had seemed more proper. After all, Lord Hamish had never run a gaming hell in London. Lord Hamish was an architect and he seemed fascinated spending his days drawing lines and shapes on drafting paper.
There was nothing timid about Hamish now. His hands rested on his hips, and Adam was suddenly conscious Hamish’s figure was as muscular as his own. If Hamish felt compelled to fight him, it was going to hurt.
Hamish inhaled, and there was a pained expression on his face, as if the feat of not smashing his arm into Adam’s face took superhuman effort.
“Let’s go on a walk,” Hamish said, putting his arm around Adam’s shoulder.
“That’s not advisable.”
“It’s not debatable.” Lord Hamish tightened his grip on Adam’s arms.
“Hamish! Don’t hurt him!” Isla pleaded.
Adam glanced toward her. Her face was twisted in obvious anguish, and Lord Hamish’s wife had linked her arm with hers. Both she, the Duchess of Belmonte and the Duchess of Vernon were comforting her, and his heart ached.
Lord Hamish yanked him forward until they reached the starboard side. Hamish gave ferocious glares to the sailors until they backed away.
It took a lot to intimidate a sailor, but apparently, Lord Hamish had a gift.
And now Lord Hamish was directing his irritation on Adam. “You love that woman.”
“And that’s why I won’t subject her to a life of hardship.” Adam shifted his feet. The waves seemed to be on Lord Hamish’s side,
for they seemed to take glee in tipping the ship and splattering foamy seawater over the rails, despite the crisp blue sky, devoid of clouds.
“Then be a viscount,” Lord Hamish growled.
“Pardon?”
“You heard me,” Lord Hamish said. “Step up.”
“But I wasn’t born to live that life.”
Lord Hamish sucked in a deep breath of air. “Look. Ask anyone. I’ve always been far more conscious of rank than anyone else. Certainly, more than my brother and more than Isla’s brother.”
Adam blinked. Isla’s brother always seemed to emanate propriety.
“Isla’s sister-in-law was a maid before her brother married her. And my brother, God in heaven, made an eyebrow-raising match too.” He grinned. “So did I.”
“I doubt the Duchess of Vernon ever lied about her identity.”
“Perhaps that’s true,” Lord Hamish said. “But the thing is... I heard about the ball at Tremont House from Isla’s brother. I heard about a well-run household, polished grounds, and happy servants. Unless you’ve inadvertently bankrupted the place, I’d venture that you’re doing a splendid job.”
“Th-thank you.” Whatever Adam had expected Lord Hamish would say, he did not expect him to compliment him.
“Look. Maybe it’s because you understand what it’s like to be poor, or maybe it’s not. But the thing is, I can’t for the life of me see why you wouldn’t be able to fulfil your duties well. You’d make a splendid viscount.”
“But I’m not—”
Hamish raised his hand. “I know. You weren’t born one. Well, you know what? Your former employer, wasn’t born one either. In fact, I seem to remember hearing that the relationship between the late viscount and him was particularly tenuous.”
Adam was silent.
He’d protested before, but perhaps he could allow himself to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, Lord Hamish was correct.
“The reason why the position of Viscount of Tremont was created was because some king, probably centuries ago, liked that one of his friends was particularly good at laughing at his jokes or in assisting getting him mistresses for when he tired of sleeping with his wife. Noblemen aren’t particularly noble.”
Adam blinked.
All the pomp, all the splendor that related to aristocrats was perhaps not earned. “I didn’t think about it like that.”
“No, you just left, shattering my poor dear friend’s heart.”
Adam widened his eyes. “Isla was injured trying to protect me.”
Lord Hamish blew air from between his lips. “Look. It’s a good thing you care about her. It’s a very good thing. And if you’re willing to sacrifice your future happiness and comfort for her protection—well, I won’t say there’s anything wrong with that. That said, there is another option. It entails you being a viscount. Now, you’re right. You’ll have to take on the duties of viscount. You have to give every indication of being a viscount. You can’t just abandon your estate. You’ll be part of the House of Lords, and you’ll have to contribute to society. But I think you can do that. Am I right?”
Adam nodded dumbly.
Lord Hamish grinned. “Good. As I said, I have a tendency to be right.”
“It just can’t be so easy,” Adam said.
“It is that easy,” Hamish said sternly. “Don’t think that because you were born poor, that you don’t deserve happiness. If you’re not the viscount, all the property will revert back to the Crown. That won’t make anyone happier, including the workers on the estate. Take this opportunity. Believe me, none of us will say a word. Now, what do you say?”
Lord Hamish crossed his arms as if expecting to defend himself from an argument from Adam. But Adam wasn’t going to argue. That would be nonsense.
Instead he murmured a quick thank you, and then he hurried away.
Away from Lord Hamish.
Toward Isla.
Toward the woman he adored, the woman he loved, the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
He dashed across the ever tilting deck. The waves seemed to tap a pleasant rhythm against the hull, and the sun cast bright beams that warmed him.
“Isla! Isla!”
Isla’s face was pale and withdrawn, and he despised that he’d made her look so anxious, so uncertain. He pulled her into his arms, because he needed her to know right now that everything would be fine.
Everything would always be fine.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Forgive me.”
She glanced warily at him, and he realized she didn’t know the reason for his apologies. He’d apologized before when he said he could never see her again.
“I was wrong,” he said. “I’ll go back to Wiltshire. I’ll be the viscount. I might get discovered, but if so—”
“—We’ll deal with it,” Isla said, her eyes sparkling.
Lord.
He adored the sparkle in her eyes.
He never wanted to remove it again.
Isla looked warily at him. “Did Hamish threaten to kill you? Because he never speaks about the war, but he did go, and I’m sure he’s killed before. I-I just wouldn’t want that to be the reason.”
“It’s not the reason,” Adam said.
“Well, perhaps he threatened to cut off a thumb or a toe.”
“No appendages were threatened,” Adam said.
“Oh.”
Adam despised that her voice sounded small and insecure. He was the one who’d made her voice sound like that. He’d rejected her...twice.
He would have to spend the rest of his life making up for it.
It would be his life’s work.
His magnum opus.
And he couldn’t wait to begin.
He knew just how to start. She had to know...now. He knelt before Isla.
She glanced warily and then held his hand. “You don’t need to beg for my forgiveness. I understand.”
He glanced at the others. Some of the women were smiling.
“I—er—require the use of my hand,” he said.
Isla blinked, and her cheeks pinkened somewhat.
Oh, no.
He hadn’t desired to offend her. This was not how this was supposed to go.
“I mean I do like it when you hold my hand,” he began.
She dropped her fingers. “Don’t worry.”
He scrambled in his purse and found his carefully folded handkerchief. He removed it.
“Oh, the cold always makes my nose run too. That is the trouble with sea wind. Most chilly, even in summer.”
He unwrapped the handkerchief methodically, and a smile spread on his lips. Then he found the ring and picked it up. The small jewel glinted in the light.
“Lady Isla,” he said. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“I—” She seemed to swallow hard, and her bottom lip trembled. And then her top lip. And then heavens, she began to cry.
He blinked.
Perhaps this was not going well.
“I’ll get you a new ring,” he said. “I know the stone is small. It was my grandmother’s. The jewelry is no doubt out of fashion. You know, I don’t think she even used it as an engagement ring. I don’t think that was done back then. Or at least, not very often. It’s just a pearl ring. Easy to change. Don’t worry.”
The others were definitely smiling. Lord Hamish’s wife even dabbed her cheeks.
Isla continued to cry. She seemed to be trying to say something, but only sobs came out.
He handed her his handkerchief. “Actually, you might find this more useful.”
She patted her face with it and blew her nose.
“You don’t have to say yes now,” he said quickly. “You can think about it. And—er—maybe the answer is no, and I’ll just—er—court you. If you want to be courted, naturally.”
“Yes,” she said through tears. “You silly thing. Of course, I’ll marry you. The only answer is yes. Yes forever and ever.”
“I’m so glad
,” he said. “So very glad.”
He rose up. It wasn’t the most elegant movement, since the waves continued to roll under the ship and bounce against the hull, but in the next moment he pulled Isla into his arms again.
“You were crying,” he said.
“I-I’m s-so happy,” she sobbed. “I was so worried. I thought I’d lost you. And then we tracked you down, but then you said no, and then—”
“I was an idiot,” Adam said, glancing at Hamish. The man nodded approvingly at the set of words. “But I’ll do my best to not be one anymore.”
“You are perfect,” Isla said.
Adam didn’t think too much after that. There were a great deal of kisses, and then after that there were a great deal of hugs from Isla’s friends and relatives.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Isla raised her chin and inhaled the sea air once more. Brighton was in the distance.
Adam was assisting the Duke of Belmonte. Apparently, he had learned some things about sailing from Captain Fergus.
Isla watched them move methodically. The wind was stronger, the air colder than when they’d left, but her heart felt full.
She noticed Callum and strode toward him.
“Thank you for helping us,” Isla said. “I know you had to postpone your travel to Guernsey, and I’m ever so grateful.”
“You needn’t worry,” Callum said. He leaned closer to her. “You’ve got yourself a good one there.”
“I know.” Isla smiled.
“I’m not sure if I ever truly apologized to you,” Callum said. “I shouldn’t have so publicly ended our engagement.”
“I know why you did it.”
“It was still uncalled for.”
“Thank you,” Isla said.
She wasn’t going to be hurt or angry. She had Adam. And she was going to be very, very happy.
For the rest of our lives.
The sailors anchored the ship.
“Have a wonderful time on Guernsey,” she said.
The men glanced at each other. Finally, Wolfe cleared his throat. “We decided to wait a week.”
“Oh? But you were in such a hurry—”
“There’s something of greater importance,” Hamish said. “You.”
How to Train a Viscount (Wedding Trouble, #4) Page 16
