Not Quite Married (15 page)

“Patience is a dear commodity,” she declared, lifting ledger sheets that were red with default. “Is there no way we can force them to pay? Attach their property?”

His eyebrows shot up. “This does sting. Who would you take to the courts? Shopkeepers? Farmers? What would you do with wooden cabins and steel plows? And what magistrate would counter a colonial assembly, even for a handsome fee?”

Brien’s face colored. “I never meant—”

“I dislike bribes. And if I were a colonial, nothing would enrage me more than the offer of a bit of dirty money from a wealthy English lord. No, no. We will wait.”

Brien was deeply disappointed by the news and began to delve deeper into their financial affairs. It wasn’t long before the truth of their situation became clear. She had been enthusiastic about their prospects in the colonies and had persuaded her father to risk more investment in American trade than he thought prudent.

Her pride smarted at her first business failure, but she heeded her father’s advice to allow events to clarify themselves before taking action. It was doubly hard now, waiting for word from the colonies
and
waiting for the reappearance of the treacherous Aaron Durham. . . .

ALL WAS WELL until the first of February. The earl was brought home from his offices feverish and chilling. He had a racking cough and was unable to keep food down. Brien watched him weaken as the fever slowly worsened. Dyso helped her restrain him when the delirium caused him to thrash and rave, and helped her mix and administer the draughts the doctor ordered. The long nights beside his bed blurred into an endless stream of pain and fatigue.

The doctor came daily and stayed several evenings, for Brien would not leave her father’s bedside unless the doctor was with him. Then, somewhere in the night during the second week of his illness, the fever finally broke and the relieved doctor assured Brien that her father would recover fully.

The first of March saw improvement in the earl’s health and the first bit of hopeful news from America. Silas Hastings sent word that he had collected a percentage of the debts and seized a goodly stock of merchandise for nonpayment. He awaited instructions on how to proceed.

Brien’s heart warmed toward the tall, gaunt man whose squinting to improve his eyesight made him appear to wear a continual frown. He had gone to the colonies as a young man and had prospered as Weston Trading’s agent, marrying the daughter of a wealthy merchant. Through the years, his first allegiance was to Weston Trading—and his second to his adopted country. The revolution had caused him great personal grief.

She held the news from her father and developed a plan that would take her out of London for a while and solve their colonial crisis at the same time. She would personally travel to America and use every weapon in her arsenal of persuasion to find a cash buyer and liquidate their American holdings.

The earl mended quickly for a man of his age. When Brien presented the news and her plan to him, he was at first adamantly opposed. But she sent orders to their solicitors and began making arrangements for the voyage in spite of his disapproval. The earl finally admitted the soundness of her plan and her ability to carry it out. But it was her own excitement about the venture that tipped the scale in her favor. With no small guilt, he realized the strain of his illness had drained her as well. She desperately needed a change of surroundings and something to engage her restless mind.

Her father arranged for her to be given his power of attorney and sent a letter to Silas Hastings requesting suitable accommodations be arranged. She accepted the invitation of Lord Emery Devon of Bristol, the son of an old business acquaintance of her father’s, to be a guest in their home while awaiting her ship. And lastly, they arranged passage on one of Weston Trading’s own vessels for late April, sailing from Bristol.

As their departure neared, preparations increased at a frenzied pace—with fittings and shopping, packing and farewells. When they set forth at last for Bristol, she was more tired than excited.

The earl came downstairs to see her off, and she extracted a promise from him that he would take care of himself in her absence. He hugged her and kissed her forehead, saying that he wished he were going with her and envied her this chance to see the colonies firsthand.

Then he glanced at Jeannie and Dyso, who waited near the carriage, and asked dryly if Brien would feel safe traveling with such a small retinue. To be sure, it seemed an odd entourage as they stopped at a country inn for the night: the lady, her maid, and their hulking protector.

Twelve

ON THE TWENTIETH OF APRIL, Brien was warmly welcomed to Devon House and escorted to a guest room by Lady Angela Devon, who chatted enthusiastically about the colonial adventure her guest was about to embark upon. It seemed she had spent a summer in Boston as a girl, and had amusing memories of her time there . . . strange foods, rough people, and a general inattention to personal hygiene. At any other time, Brien would have been charmed by her stories, but just now she was tired and hungry and in no mood to contemplate the privations that she might have to endure on her journey. But a warm bath and a light tea restored her equilibrium, and by dinner she was able to once again muster enthusiasm about the adventure that lay ahead . . .

. . . until Lord Emery Devon, who had insisted on going to the docks to see about her passage, announced some disturbing news.

The ship
Libertine,
on which they were to sail, had not yet left the Azores. When she put into harbor there to repair damage caused in a storm, a fever felled the captain and crew. Most would live, but it could be months before the
Libertine
would see home port again.

Brien’s spirits sagged under the news and Lord Emery promised to personally seek passage for her on another vessel. His broad, earnest face and keen blue eyes made Brien believe he would not only try, but probably succeed.

Proving that her faith in him was well placed, Lord Emery announced two evenings later that he had by the barest of chances secured passage for Brien’s party on a new ship making her maiden voyage to America. Brien had just been introduced to the Devons’ other dinner guests—Lord and Lady Clermont and Brigadier and Mrs. Wilton—when he made his announcement.

“The ship is called
The Lady’s Secret,
a handsome new design,”

Lord Emery said enthusiastically. “They say she’ll cut a full week off the best time. Better yet, she’s built with cabins for passengers. Dash it all, Lady Brien, you have phenomenal luck!”

“Perhaps I only borrow yours, Lord Emery,” Brien said, flushing with relief, “since it was you who found this solution to my problem.”

Lord Emery abandoned his post by the marble mantel to pat his wife’s hand. “My dear, I took the liberty of inviting the ship’s captain and owner to join us for dinner this evening.” He tossed a meaning-filled glance at the Clermonts and Wiltons as he continued. “And I know you will forgive such impertinence when I tell you that the captain is none other than Aaron Durham.”

“Oh, Emery,” Angela gasped softly. “Are you sure?”

Aaron Durham.
Brien sat with the name echoing through her suddenly empty head. Every coherent thought had just been blown from her mind by that verbal cannonball. She felt for her fan and flicked it open.
Captain
Durham. It couldn’t be.

“I spoke with him myself this very afternoon,” Lord Emery continued. “He was reluctant to take on passengers, this being her maiden voyage. But I explained our guest’s predicament and he said he could hardly refuse a lady in need.”

“Such gallantry,” Lady Angela said dryly, then turned to Brien.

“Forgive me, dear Brien, but it seems you will be sailing with Aaron Durham. He’s . . . well, he’s . . .” She looked to Lord Emery to finish for her.

“Smart. Fiercely independent. And infamous with the ladies,” he supplied.

Those were hardly the words
she
would use to describe the wretch she knew as Aaron Durham, Brien thought, taking refuge in a shocked silence that would seem understandable from any point of view.

“Do you think it wise for Brien to sail with him?” Lady Angela asked her husband.

“The man honors his word, my dear. Not a man in Bristol would deny that. And Lady Brien has brought her own ample escort.

She will be as safe on board his ship as she is in our own house.”

“Captain Durham,” the butler announced from the door. A tall, broad-shouldered form swung into the room and paused casually just inside the archway. His gaze flowed over the others and came to rest boldly on Brien.

“Good evening.”

Forgetting herself, Brien shot to her feet, causing the men who were seated to thrust to their feet with consternation on their faces. Appalled by her gaffe, she fixed her gaze on the impeccable black broadcloth and gray-blue vest that covered his broad chest, pasted a determined smile on her face, and refused to allow another single hint of her shock to escape.

And shock it was. The man who had pretended to marry her and swindled her out of thousands of pounds was greeting her host and his guests as old acquaintances. She was slated to sail across the Atlantic with him—thrust into his greedy, unscrupulous clutches for a second time! She fought a rising tide of panic as he worked his way around the room to her; every breath required alarming effort.

At last he stood in front of her, reaching for her hand and brushing it with his lips. Every eye in the room was fixed on them as he straightened, raked her with a thorough glance, and produced a lazy smile.

“Delighted to meet you, Lady Brien.” The sound of her name on his lips sent a tingle along her limbs and she jerked her hand back.

“And you, Mister Durham. Or is that
Captain
Durham?” She moved immediately to Angela’s chair and leaned against the side of it to steady herself. Her carefully knit composure was coming apart at the seams.

“Whatever you prefer, madame.” The warmth of his gaze gave the reply an appalling seductive quality.

“
My
preference would be to sail for the colonies on one of Weston Trading’s own vessels.” She saw the flicker of dismay in Angela’s face and added shakily: “But I am grateful Lord Emery has managed to secure passage for me on so short a notice.”

“When Lord Emery related your predicament, madame”—he nodded with deference to their host—“I could not resist. I am ever accommodating to ladies in need.”

A startled giggle escaped Angela and was quickly silenced by a dour look from Lady Evelyn Clermont.

In the silence that fell, Brien made herself look at him and compare him to the man in her memory, determined to find differences. But he looked just as she remembered—the same angular features and tanned skin, the same scar on his cheek, the same mobile and expressive lips. And his eyes— She had convinced herself that such eyes were impossible, that she remembered them wrong, and saw now that she had recalled them with uncanny accuracy. Gold and clear. Like the finest Baltic amber. It had taken months of quelling troubled dreams and purging unwanted flashes of remembrance to undo the impact those eyes had made on her senses, and now a moment in his presence brought it all back with a vengeance.

It was him, all right.

Curse his black heart.

She jerked her gaze away and inserted her fluttering fan between the bare skin of her breast and his focused attention.

“This ship of yours, Aaron,” Lord Emery forayed into the silence, “tell us about her. I hear she is quite remarkable.” Brien was surprised to hear Emery call him by his given name, according him deference due an equal when he was . . . Devil take him, she didn’t know what he was. Didn’t know the first thing about him. And she had married—
tried to marry
—him and had allowed him to—

“Yes, quite remarkable,” Aaron mused, gazing unabashedly at Brien. “She has three main masts and a shallow draft—by British standards. Her hull is V-shaped. I designed her with cabins for passengers as well as cargo holds.”

“You think there will be increased travel and trade with the colonies, then?” Brigadier Jeremy Wilton raised an eyebrow.

“Undoubtedly.” Durham leaned one shoulder against the mantelpiece and openly appraised the young nobleman. “With common language, heritage, and goals—the two nations stand to gain far more by cooperation than by conflict.”

“Nations?” Wilton gave a snort of derision. “I would hardly call that motley consortium of farmers and shopkeepers a nation.”

Brien was relieved that this thinly disguised challenge diverted Durham’s attention. He seemed in no hurry to embarrass her by recalling their former meeting, but his smug expression said he certainly intended to do so before the night was over.

His smile bordered on the sardonic. “They have promise. They fight well for shopkeepers and ignorant farmers. I was on one of the ships taken down by their elusive John Paul Jones.” His hand went up to signal for a truce as Wilton drew breath for a hot reply. “The battles have been amply fought already, Brigadier, and there are far more entertaining pastimes at hand.” He flashed a disarming smile at Angela, who blushed. “Is that not so, my lady?”

“Quite right,” she agreed, and the subject was closed.

“About your ship, Captain Durham,” Lady Evelyn broke in. “I understand she was christened
The Lady’s Secret.
”

“A provocative name,” Angela teased. “Have you many ladies’

secrets in your keeping, Captain?”

“Every true lady has some secrets, madame.” He glanced at Brien, who coincidentally lowered her head and plied her fan.

“And I have met quite a number of ladies over the years.”

Brien hoped no one heard her groan.

At dinner, Brien found herself seated opposite Aaron Durham and forced to endure his relentless inspection and increasingly pointed comments . . . each of which threatened a revelation of what had passed between them.

Why couldn’t she just faint or come down with a pounding headache?

Because that was the coward’s way out and—truth be told—the glint in his eyes said that he would make her life a torment if she didn’t deal forcefully with him from the start. If she tried to beg off or even to find another passage, there would be questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. Still, if she went through with it, she would have to suffer his presence and perhaps be at his mercy for an entire voyage.