Bride of a Distant Isle (17 page)

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan,” I said. I left unsaid,
I had no choice.
Even Edward appeared a bit uncomfortable at the familiarity with which Mr. Morgan spoke.

Captain Dell'Acqua, whom Clementine had thoughtfully seated to my right, looked at the enormously expensive bauble encased in gold and lying flat at the base of my collarbone. He then looked at me and I back at him but, of course, I could say nothing. What was there to say? It was the kind of gift a man gave to his wife . . . or fiancée. I wondered if Dell'Acqua was thinking back to our conversation about the Maltese marriage cap and necklace.

“You're beautiful,” the captain said simply, and I tilted my head down in acknowledgment, not trusting myself to speak. It meant more to me than the florid, gin-fueled compliments Mr. Morgan had paid.

Dinner was brought out, and the conversation flowed superficially and quickly. I glanced at Edward, so young to be sitting at the head of the table, and did not envy him the task of saving the family fortune. His father had not done well by him, but perhaps would have been able to turn the tides for us had illness not taken his life early.

Be careful not to misplace sympathy on Edward
, I told myself. It made me vulnerable to unexpected malice.

Perhaps the tides would be turned anyway. Lord Somerford was to meet them in London, as was Elizabeth's husband, Lord Leahy. Investments were being discussed and stitched together. Edward summoned Watts, at least twice his age, and seemed to relish doing so.

“Chef has prepared a surprise for us.” Clementine sipped her water before continuing. “We'd decided upon a menu, and then at the last moment, he sent word that there would be a change. I'm sure it will be splendid.”

I turned my face away from her but toward the back of the room, where footmen emerged with silver serving platters. Behind them, nearly hidden, stood Chef. He caught my eye and I his, in return, offering but the smallest smile.

The lids were lifted, and a delightful aroma filled the room—rich, savory chicken, velvety red wine, and the fresh green of thyme. “Coq au vin!” Clementine said. “It has been too long. Why had I not thought of this?”

It was served, and as it was, I felt Captain Dell'Acqua's hand on my elbow to the side of the table. The touch of his hand sent a frisson of excitement through me. He leaned over.

“Did you like the roses?” he spoke softly.

“I did. I sent a note round to your ship. Did it not arrive?”

He nodded. “I saved it. But I wanted to hear it from your lips. The dress . . .”

“Rose red,” I said. I could feel Mr. Morgan's stare from across the table but I did not care. I was completely engrossed with the heady mixture of the brandy in the dish, Captain Dell'Acqua's musky cologne, and the enchanting feeling of him being so near.

“You asked Chef to make coq au vin, did you not?” he asked. “Rooster in wine?”

“As an honor, yes.” I sipped my water to cool off and looked at him sideways, from under my lashes, speaking sweetly. “By your gift of the
rosarium
, I understood that you appreciated the subtlety of unspoken sentiments, Captain Dell'Acqua.”

“I do indeed.” He let his hand caress my arm ever so slightly as he released my elbow; my skin rippled beneath his touch. Morgan glared at us. The captain nodded, tipped his glass to him, and switched to Italian, a fine tenor in his voice.
“Alla fine andrà tutto bene se non andrà bene, non e le fine.”

All will be well in the end; if it's not well, then it's not the end.

“I hope you are right, Captain Dell'Acqua,” I said shakily before turning my head back to my plate, but I could still hear him whisper, a teasing playfulness in his voice that tangled in my heart.

“I am always right, Miss Ashton.”

AUGUST, 1851

T
he next morning, Clementine was still abed at a late hour. I knew she would be; Edward had left for London and after an evening's entertaining, she rarely dislodged herself before noon. I sent Maud to her, with a question.

“Tell her that it's a glorious summer day, and one Albert should enjoy. Would she like to come along for a carriage ride to Lymington, with Lillian, of course, so the lad can enjoy watching the yachts departing and take in the fresh air?”

Maud returned with the message I'd expected. “Mrs. Everedge says she is not well enough for a trip into town, but that is no reason to deprive Albert. You and Lillian may take him.”

“Thank you, Maud. I can attend to my dressing today so you may assist Clementine.”

She nodded and then left. I pushed Mr. Morgan's necklace to the bottom of my jewel box, using a stick, as one would to force away an insect. Then I put what I believed to be my mother's fish necklace on instead, though keeping it placed under my gown. I made my way to Albert's rooms to speak with Lillian.

“Mrs. Everedge has indicated that you and I might take this young lad to watch the yachts this morning . . . that is, if he'd like to.”

Albert ran headlong into my arms and, as I bent toward him, took my face in his hands, kissing each cheek. I laughed aloud and kissed each cheek in return.

“Well, then, let's be off.” Lillian seemed happy to be getting out, too.

“I wonder if . . . that white cotton dress I've seen you in, the one with the pink roses scattered on it,” I said. “Perhaps I might remain with Albert whilst you change, if you wish to?”

She tilted her head; it was her best dress and set off her fair complexion. She did not question me, however. Instead, she went to change and was back shortly. She'd affixed little crystal earrings into her earlobes, too.

Please, dear Lord, do not let Clementine see us dressed like this or she will certainly understand something is afoot.

We set off toward the door; Watts had ordered the carriage to be at the front entrance. While we waited, Albert and I made our way to the lawn, where I showed him how to blow the seedy white down from spent dandelions; he puffed up his cheeks and then exhaled with glee, and I plucked some strays from his neatly combed hair. After settling into the carriage, young Albert on my lap, we made off, rattling down the drive. His face was pressed to the window; a cool breeze found its way to us from the open front, as did the driver's jaunty tune. It was not noon, and yet the August day was so hot that even the dust lay listlessly on the ground beside us as the carriage wheels churned. I pulled my bonnet strings to loosen them, as did Lillian.

Shortly, we arrived in Lymington. First, we had the driver pull up to the harbor wall so Albert could view the yachts; I let him climb down from the carriage, and we stood nearby it as he watched them slip in and out of port. I hastily scanned those that were anchored; no ship had
Poseidon
scrolled upon it. Captain Dell'Acqua had already sailed to London, apparently, or wherever he'd gone to conduct his affairs.

After half an hour, I tucked Albert back into the carriage, and we clop-clopped our way to Mr. Galpine's lending library. There were plenty of books in our own library, but books were not the reason for our journey. I took Albert by the hand but insisted that Lillian should accompany us inside.

The tinkling bells on the door chimed our arrival, and Mr. Galpine raised his hat in acknowledgment of me, but his eyes were on Lillian.

“I've come to check on my newspaper advertisement,” I said. Lillian looked at me, shocked, and I grinned at her. Taking charge of one's own life had been her idea, after all. “I've been faithfully reviewing Mr. Everedge's papers but I've yet to spot my enquiry for a governess situation. Is there a possibility it was not sent?”

Galpine shook his head. “No. I posted it myself, Miss Ashton. Along with the advertisement for the gentleman keen to engage a secretary, and he's had several responses. I assume if one correspondence arrived at the paper safely, the other did as well.”

Now that he mentioned it, I had seen that very advertisement in the paper, the one the man ahead of me had placed.

I twisted my cameo ring. “What could have gone wrong?”

Mr. Galpine shook his head. “I'm sure I don't know. I'm sorry, Miss Ashton. Would you like to place another ad?”

I had to conserve my resources. Before I placed another ad, I should find out what had happened to the first one. “Not just yet, thank you. But I would like to peruse your lending books, as would our nanny, Miss Lillian Miller.” I introduced them and then added, “Miss Miller is a fine nanny but has mentioned a talent with sums and an earnest interest in shop-keeping. I thought perhaps you might have some periodicals or books that could assist her as she considers this new avenue.”

He readily abandoned me to display potential reading materials to Lillian. I smiled at them, and after locating a few books of interest, Lillian and I left. I would review Edward's newspapers again.

When we returned home, Clementine was in the drawing room, reading. Albert ran to her and told her about the ships, and she fussed over him. As they talked, I paged through Edward's papers, left untouched as he was in London.

“What are you looking for?” Clementine asked as I quickly paged through.

“Nothing of importance,” I replied, wrongly, and noted that I would need to admit that at my next confession. The business at hand was most important indeed.

E
dward returned from London on August 8; I remembered the date on that day's paper, which he found me searching through in the library. He was in high spirits.

“Your matters are proceeding well?” I asked.

He nodded. “It may yet be that the Maltese, who have rained trouble upon the houses of Ashton and Everedge, shall save us in the end!”

I did not point out that the Maltese man who was my father had, unknowingly, gifted the family fortunes to Edward's mother and father through my illegitimacy. It would not help matters at this point, and I needed to think how I could seek to prove my claim if it were true.

“Your friendship with Captain Dell'Acqua, and, indeed, with Lady Somerford and Lady Leahy, has proved fortuitous indeed.” He sat down in a chair near me. “Put the newspapers down, Annabel, and take a seat near me.”

Dread forced my heart into spitting out extra beats, and I closed the paper, wiping my hands on a handkerchief so I did not stain my gown with ink, and sat near him.

“You're searching for the advertisement you placed seeking a governess situation.” He was blunt, and his face held no concern for me. I, on the other hand, was flooded with unease.

“Yes . . . how did you know?”

“Clementine told me you were looking through the paper, as did Watts. An enquiry arrived for you a week or two ago.”

“Addressed to me? Enquiring as to my availability for the position?”

Edward rang for a cup of tea, nodded to the maid serving it, and then finally turned to answer me, at his leisure.

“The letter was addressed to me,” he said. “How dare you accuse me of opening your mail! The writer sought reassurance about your availability, suitability, and references. I returned with a letter of my own saying that you were most unsuitable.”

“Most unsuitable!” I stood, not caring now who heard me. “I am entirely suitable. I am of good education, an experienced teacher, and the Rogers school would give me excellent references—of that I am certain.”

“I know the family in question,” Edward said, quietly setting down his half-drained cup of tea. “They would not want a papist governess surreptitiously steering their children in a misguided direction. Governesses are charged with the moral welfare of the children, and in that, you are most unsuitable on several fronts. I responded to their enquiry in this way and have not heard another word. Upon learning that you had placed such an advertisement, without consultation with me, I spoke with the newspaper in question and had it removed.”

“Then I shall place another, this time specifying that I seek a situation in a Catholic household!” I sat down and held his gaze.