The Husband List (26 page)

“There must be more plum tartlets,” Mama said to the waiter, a tall and stoic Scandinavian. “Go back and check.”

The waiter inclined his head and retreated. Mama, who had eaten three already, frowned impatiently at the man’s back. “One would think he was in a funeral procession, the pace he’s walking.”

“You seem in good spirits this trip, Mama,” Caroline said, hoping to spare the waiter more criticism.

“I believe the sea air is agreeing with me,” her mother replied. “Peek suggested that I should spend time keeping my eyes on the horizon and putting fresh air in my lungs. It’s working wonderfully! And Pomeroy seems invigorated, too.”

Caroline glanced at the little mop who sat on a tapestry pillow by the dining room’s arched entry, and tried to discern whether the dog was invigorated or not.

“Did you know your father even designated an area for Pomeroy’s constitutionals?” Mama asked. “He has his own strip of sod from Rosemeade to use while we are at sea.”

“I’m not certain that’s proper dinner conversation, Mama,” Amelia said.

“Ah, but we are in a land of no laws,” Mama replied.

“Not to mention no land,” Helen muttered just under her breath. Caroline, who sat next to her, caught it. Jack must have heard from his seat opposite her, too, because he ducked his head to hide a smile.

“In this rugged environment, I have decided I’m free to speak as I wish,” Mama decreed.

Rugged?
Caroline was the only one missing a comfort while aboard ship, and that was Jack. Meals were the only time she saw him. There were other opportunities, but he’d actively avoided them.

Mama cast a gimlet eye on Jack. “Did your father win a house in London on a hand of cards, too?”

Caroline wanted to sink beneath the linen-covered table, but Jack just laughed. “No, he did not, Mrs. Maxwell.”

“Then where are you staying?”

“At the Savoy,” he replied.

Mama sniffed. “Really? How unexpected.”

Jack started to say something but stopped. Caroline gave him credit for his self-restraint. Hers had reached its limit.

She pushed back her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, Mama, I am feeling the need for some of that fresh air.”

“Get your cape, first,” Mama said. “And take Pomeroy with you.”

Caroline scooped up the dog and headed down the thickly carpeted hallway, past the corridor that led to her room, and outside to breathe freely. Evening had come, but it was far from dark as she took the deck. She set Pomeroy on his feet and smiled when he chose the rail instead of his designated spot as the place to leave his mark.

“Let’s stay back from the edge,” she said to the little dog when he was done. “Mama would never forgive me if you went overboard.”

“But if I did, she’d breathe easier.”

Caroline turned. Jack was right behind her.

“Well, hello,” she said. “Does this mean you’re through avoiding me?”

Laughing, he held a hand to his broad chest. “A direct shot, Artemis.”

“Of course,” she replied and then began to follow Pomeroy, who was heading toward his piece of home sod. “And I note you’re not denying the charge.”

“I’m not,” he agreed as he pulled even with her. “But I have my reasons.”

Caroline didn’t comment. They walked in silence until they had reached the bow, where Pomeroy was rolling with great abandon on his grass, paws in the air and a tiny canine smile on his face. Caroline rubbed her arms. Mama had been right about the cape. It might be July, but there was a bite to the air this far out at sea. It seemed to Caroline that it was growing rougher, too.

“Here,” Jack said as he settled his black evening jacket coat over her shoulders. She wanted to draw it close to her face and see if it carried the tempting scent of male and sandalwood she recalled—and had dreamt of—since a week ago in Rosemeade’s conservatory. Instead she gave him a polite, but not
too
forgiving, thank you.

“Bremerton was trying to harm me when he broke Eddie’s leg,” Jack said in a strangely calm tone. “None of what happened was an accident.”

Caroline swung around to face him. “What? Do you have proof? If you do, you must tell Mama immediately.”

Jack touched his hand to her face. “Sweetheart, if I had hard proof, we wouldn’t be on this ship.”

Caroline had heard the bad news, but at that moment, she didn’t care. Her mind couldn’t seem to work past the fact that Jack had just called her sweetheart.

“Sweetheart?” she asked.

An expression close to regret passed across his face. “That’s what I said.”

“You don’t seem very happy about it.”

“What part of falling in love with a woman who’s being married off to an almost duke should make me happy?”

Caroline couldn’t stop her smile from growing until it nearly hurt her face. “The love part?” She moved closer to him. “Doesn’t that make you even a little bit happy?”

“If I could guarantee you’d smile like this every day for the rest of your life, it would make me damn happy.”

“I will,” she said. “I promise.” Her heart raced with excitement. “How could I not? When we get to England, I’ll send a telegram to Papa and tell him I need him there immediately, and then we’ll…”

Caroline trailed off. What
would
they do? If her mother had scoffed at the idea of Jack marrying Harriet Vandermeulen, she’d go apoplectic at the idea of him as a son-in-law. She would refuse, and Papa would let her have her way.

Jack nodded. “That’s exactly where I run dry of ideas.”

She reached out to settle her hand against Jack’s chest. She wanted to at least feel his heartbeat and let herself know this moment was real.

He stepped back.

“We can’t,” he said, tipping his head toward the port side of the ship. Peek stood there, far enough away that Caroline couldn’t complain that the governess was being obtrusive, yet close enough to stand guard.

“I don’t care about her,” Caroline said. “Not anymore.”

Jack moved away. “I don’t, either, but here is what I do care about.… I care to be close enough to you in London that I can help if Bremerton becomes dangerous. And if word gets to your mother that I am more than just Eddie’s friend, that won’t happen. I can’t risk that. Bremerton isn’t just some feckless lord, Caroline. He manipulates, and he believes he’s above all rules. If you cross him, he’ll strike back.”

“I know,” she said, thinking of the way the Englishman had dragged her into Mrs. Longhorne’s folly for simply asking a few questions. “Truly, I do.”

EIGHTEEN

Thursday evening, Jack made his way down the hallway to his room. It wasn’t easy going. Last night’s increasing wind had turned out to be the outer edge of stormy seas, and tonight the
Conqueror
was working its way out the other side.

Dinner had been a solitary affair with not a Maxwell in sight, and the soup course had been foregone. Now all Jack wanted was to read the book he’d borrowed from the ship’s library. He timed his reach for his door handle to the vessel’s roll and stepped inside.

“Papa didn’t build this ship for rough seas,” Caroline said from her perch on the center of his bed. “And you don’t have any food in here.”

Because he had no other option, Jack closed the door. “You’ll find the food in the dining room, though you’re underdressed for dinner.” She wore a ruffled, long-sleeved white cotton robe that covered her from chin to toes, and yet somehow she managed to look sensual.

“I have ball gowns with half this amount of fabric.” She gave a wiggle of her bare toes. “Did you know that in France it was once the style for women to receive their male admirers
en déshabille,
wearing their finest night clothing? Flora told me all about it.”

Jack set the book he carried on one of the room’s two armchairs. “I’ll bet she did. But you might have noticed that we’re not in France.”

“We’re someplace better. According to my mother, we’re in a land of no laws.”

Caroline’s dark hair had been plaited into a thick braid that lay over her right shoulder. Jack’s fingers twitched as he thought about slipping the braid from its thin bit of ribbon and seeing her hair fully down. “Much to my regret, there is no such place.”

“There is, right here,” she said as she patted the burgundy-colored coverlet stretched across the bed.

“What are you doing here, Caroline?” It was an obvious question, but he needed to hear her answer.

“I’ve been waiting for you. You promised me a bed. One with just the two of us, and the rest of the world be damned. And that’s what we have, even if it’s one that pitches and rolls.”

Jack shucked his evening jacket and threw it over the back of the armchair.

“You need to go back to your room,” he said while he undid his white necktie and sent it to join his jacket. “Someone is going to find you here.”

“No, they’re not. Mama’s love affair with the sea is over, and she has taken to her bed. Even Helen and Amelia aren’t leaving their rooms, and Annie tells me that Peek hasn’t been seen. And of course I spent all day playing shut-in so I could have some freedom.”

“Only you,” he said.

She smiled. “I know. But I realized last night after Pomeroy and I had left you on deck that I had forgotten to tell you something very important.”

“Which is?” he asked as he settled into the other armchair.

“I love you, Jack. And this time I’m not saying it out of frustration or anger, but only because it needs to be said.” Humor fled her eyes and was replaced by something more poignant. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I know it seems sudden, my being here like this, but you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

And she had no idea the effect her words were having on him. “We need to keep waiting.”

“The night of the ball, Bremerton told me that after we are married and I give him an heir, I am to ask his permission to take a lover.”

Jack didn’t want to begin to sort through the levels of wrongness in that statement. “Bremerton is an idiot, and you’re not going to marry him.”

She hesitated. “But what if we can’t find a way to stop this? I can’t turn my back on my family and what they expect of me, and I can’t bear the thought of not knowing what it’s like to make love with you.”

His heart slammed at the thought, but someone had to remain in control. Unfortunately, that was him. “Unlike your almost duke, I’m discovering that I’m very traditional when it comes to you. Our first time making love will be after we’re married, and not before.” He stood and walked to the side of the tall bed and braced his palms on it to balance against the ship’s rocking. “And I give you permission to shoot me with that six-shooter of yours if I ever bring up the subject of taking lovers … not that either of us will have reason to want to.”

“So you have no intention of making love to me tonight?”

“None,” Jack said.

She smiled. “Fine. Then take off your vest and shirt.”

“What?”

“One should always have a fall-back position when negotiating, and that’s mine.”

Jack laughed. There was no woman on Earth he’d ever want more than Caroline.

“What do you have to offer in exchange?” he asked. “I don’t drop shirts and vests for nothing.”

“I’m on your bed. I’d consider that a more than adequate accommodation,” she replied.

“Ah, but you were there before the dealing began.”

“That was highly imprudent of me,” she said. “How about this?” She undid the top three buttons on her frilly robe, exposing more white cotton, pin-tucked, beneath.

“That’s no gain at all,” he said. “Your hair. I want your hair down.”

She played at deliberating for a moment. “In exchange, I will get both the vest and the shirt, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Jack watched as she untied the thin white ribbon that bound her braid. Ribbon gone, she drew her fingers through her hair, and the braid unraveled like bands of dark silk.

“There,” she said, once it was flowing over her shoulders. “Done.”

She waited expectantly while his fingers, suddenly clumsy, worked at his vest buttons. He shrugged free of the garment and dropped it onto the bed.

“Halfway there,” she said. “Let’s move it along.”

Jack smiled. “As you wish. I’d hate to deprive you of the upper hand.” After a short struggle with his stiff collar and cuffs, he was quickly rid of the shirt.

Caroline frowned at him. “I feel cheated,” she said as she took in his fine cotton undershirt. “I had expected much less beneath.”

“It’s never wise to bargain without all the required information,” he replied. “But to prove I’m a generous man…” He unbuttoned the undershirt, drew the fabric free of his trousers, and pulled it over his head.

Caroline’s mouth went dry. There were perfect marble contours of the male torso, created by a sculptor long dead, and then there was Jack. Warm, living, breathing Jack.

“Very generous,” she said.

She wanted to place her mouth against the pulse that was jumping in his throat. She wanted to touch the dusting of dark hair across the center of his chest. And she wanted to feel emotions she couldn’t even put words to.

“Have we reached the end of our negotiations?” he asked.

She shook her head no.

He smiled. “What, then?”

“Your shoes.”

He glanced down at his feet and then back to her. “Really? Then your robe goes.”

Caroline couldn’t hide her smile. “If it must.”

She worked her way up to the bed’s ornately carved headboard so that she had something to hold on to. Disrobing would have been awkward in calm seas. An unsteady bed was making it worse. By the time she’d unbuttoned the robe the rest of the way and freed herself from its yards of fabric, Jack’s shoes were long gone.

“And now?” he asked.

“What would it take to get you on the bed?” she asked.

“I’ll agree to that concession to move along the negotiations.”

Jack was there before Caroline could even thank him for his consideration. He settled on the open spot next to her, head on the pillow and smile on his face. Caroline, who was still kneeling with one hand gripping the headboard, looked down at him. He would have appeared relaxed and companionable if she hadn’t been able to see the tension just beneath his skin. And what skin it was. She took after her mother and had a creamy hue, unlike her paler sisters. But Jack was darker yet, as though he’d spent time with nothing but air between himself and the sun.