The Perfect Wife (6 page)

“I know that, and I am truly honored, but...” She glanced behind her. Wyldewood was still on the dock, now talking to a member of the ship’s crew. She didn’t have much time. Sabrina nodded toward the
wharf. “I have someone traveling with me.”

Simon’s eye’s widened in surprise. “I didn’t hear you’d gotten yourself a new husband.” A distressed frown drew his sandy brows together. “Wills should have mentioned that to me when we arranged your passage. I daresay the capt’n won’t be none too pleased about this. Ah, well, nothing to be done about it, I suppose.”

“Simon, I am not married,” she said sharply. Shock colored his face, and she could clearly read his thoughts. “Don’t you even think that, Simon. Lord Wyldewood is accompanying me through no fault of my own. Believe me, I didn’t want the man along, but I appear to be trapped for the time being. Is there a cabin you can put him in?”

Simon directed his words to her, but his thoughtful gaze lingered on Wyldewood, standing on the dock. “We’ve got several passenger cabins. The capt’n was thinking of making this ship strictly for the transport of people. There’s room for him.”

He studied Wyldewood for a long, silent second. “Do you want me to throw him overboard once we get to sea?”

“Good Lord no!” Sabrina cried. She glanced at Wyldewood and grinned. “At least not right away.”

Simon offered her a broad smile in return. “But I gather it would be acceptable if we made his voyage a wee bit uncomfortable. He’s a tall, broad man, and I’ve a cabin that will suit him—if he’s not too particular about standing upright.”

Sabrina laughed. “It sounds perfect. Simon, the way I feel about that gentleman right now, making his life uncomfortable is more than acceptable, it’s positively delightful!”

Wyldewood strode up the gangplank. Sabrina realized she still hadn’t warned Simon. “He knows nothing about my past and he mustn’t find out. And if I am somewhat more reserved than I used to be, especially around him, please don’t comment on it.”

Simon eyed her quizzically but said nothing. She would have some explaining to do to Simon and, later, to his captain. She wondered how long it would be before Wyldewood too insisted on explanations. He drew nearer, and Sabrina sighed in resignation.

Perhaps it would be easier to have him thrown overboard after all.

Nicholas’s gaze scanned the ship and settled on Lady Stanford, earnestly talking to a hardy sailor. The woman was an enigma. He’d learned the eventual destination of the ship was Alexandria. What kind of business could she possibly have in Egypt?

“Welcome aboard, my lord.” The big man greeted him, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Nicholas narrowed his eyes slightly. Good Lord! The man was American! He glanced upward at the main mast and tightened the muscles of his jaw at the sight of the flag fluttering in the breeze. The whole damn ship was American! That woman had condemned him to weeks aboard an American ship, surrounded day and night by bloody Americans. Nicholas liked Americans only slightly more than he liked the French. And he was not fond of the French.

Nicholas gritted his teeth and forced his diplomatic skills to the surface. It would not do to alienate the crew. He already suspected he would have a difficult enough time with Lady Stanford. Nicholas bestowed what he thought was a pleasant enough smile on the ruddy sailor. “Good day. Magnificent ship.” He nodded his approval.

“Aye, the
Lady B’s
as fine a craft as you’ll ever see.” The seaman’s pride in his vessel was obvious.

“Interesting name,” Nicholas said thoughtfully, a vague familiarity nagging at the back of his mind. “Is she named for anyone in particular?”

The mate’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he smirked in an oddly satisfied way. Nicholas glanced at Lady Stanford. Was that a glimmer of alarm that flashed through her eyes? No, surely not. Her unruffled gaze caught his and she smiled vacantly. He must have been mistaken. He seemed to be mistaken about Lady Stanford more often than not.

The American crossed his arms, his gaze flickering over Nicholas in an assessing and damned impertinent manner. Nicholas struggled to keep his expression friendly and interested.

“The ship’s named for someone near and dear to the captain’s heart,” the sailor said. “A wonderful woman she was, like a sister to him. Brave and loyal and true, with a spirit and fire you don’t see often in the fairer sex.” He sighed dramatically. “But she’s gone now. Cut down in the prime of life. It was a waste and a shame.”

The story caught Nicholas’s curiosity in spite of himself. “How did she die?”

“Oh no, sir.” The big man shook his head regretfully.

“She didn’t die. Might have been better all around if she had. No, she was scarce more than a girl when the weight of the world settled on her shoulders. Poor lass couldn’t take it.” He paused to let the full impact of his words sink in and rolled his eyes heavenward. “She joined a convent, she did. Became a nun. Sister B’s what they call her now.”

He shrugged in an exaggerated gesture of disbelief. “And the woman weren’t even Catholic.”

A strangled gasp came from the direction of Lady Stanford, and Nicholas turned toward her. Her face flushed crimson and she struggled to catch her breath between fits of coughing. Nicholas lunged toward her and clasped her arms.

“Lady Stanford, are you quite all right?” His anxious gaze searched her face. A few errant tears coursed down her cheeks.

“I’m fine,” she choked. “Just very moved.”

Nicholas stared sharply at her expression of complete innocence. If he didn’t know better, he would think the woman was on the verge of losing a battle with unbridled laughter. Was there something humorous about that story he hadn’t understood? It was a little odd, but he saw nothing of humor in it.

Lady Stanford glanced pointedly at his hands, still gripping her arms. “Thank you for your concern, but I really am quite recovered.” Nicholas’s gaze followed hers, and reluctantly, he released her. “I should like to go to my cabin now, Simon, if I may?”

“Of course, ma’am.” The sailor’s eyes twinkled at Lady Stanford, and Nicholas could have sworn a silent message passed between them.

Lady Stanford nodded in Nicholas’s direction. “Lord Wyldewood, I have never taken well to sea travel, so I do not expect to see much of you on this voyage, at least for a while.”

“Oh?” Nicholas quirked an eyebrow. “Somehow, that surprises me. I had the distinct impression from the manner in which you came on board that you are very much at home on a ship.”

She laughed lightly. “Well, my lord, impressions can be deceiving. You should not place such stock in them.” She turned and took Simon’s arm, and the couple stepped quickly down the deck.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said to himself. “Impressions can be deceiving. But make no mistake, my lovely lady, I shall find out what you’re up to.” He stared after her thoughtfully. “And ... what you’re hiding.”

“Egypt!” Belinda gasped. “There’s nothing but sand and pyramids and mummies in Egypt! Why in the world would she be going to Egypt?”

She glared at Erick as if this were somehow his fault. He lounged on the sofa in the front salon and shrugged nonchalantly. “I have no idea, and apparently neither does Father. The message I received from him said simply that she had boarded a ship bound for Alexandria and he was accompanying her.”

“What! He’s going with her!” Shock widened her sapphire eyes. “Without a chaperone? Without even a servant? It’s scandalous! It will absolutely destroy her reputation! She’ll be the talk of every gossip in the ton!”

Belinda’s voice rose and Erick eyed her cautiously. “Darling, I think your fears on that score are groundless. My father is an honorable man and he is with her only for her protection.”

“Hah!” She threw him a scathing glance. “I’ve heard the talk about your father. He has a sterling reputation when it comes to diplomatic matters, but he’s equally well known as a womanizer and a rake!”

“Belinda!” Shock rang in Erick’s voice. “I daresay—”

“Don’t you ‘daresay’ me, Erick,” she snapped. “You know as well as I do that his conquests at the courts of Europe were not restricted to treaties and government alliances. He was not what I, or anyone else for that matter, would consider discreet. And since his return to England he’s already well known for his exploits with women.” Outrage sparked in her voice. “And respectable is not a term I would apply to many of them!”

“Enough!” Erick leapt to his feet, drawing himself up in his best imposing manner. “I will not have my father slandered like this!”

“Slandered!” she sputtered. “I hardly think the truth could be considered slander!”

The two glared at each other for a long, tense moment. Anger and confusion battled in Erick. He had no idea how they’d gotten to this point. He understood her concern over her mother, but to suggest his father would take advantage of her was ridiculous. Belinda was far too overset to view the situation calmly. Why, she even had him up at arms, and all he wanted to do right now was wring her lovely neck. He would never hit a woman, of course. Still, Belinda could drive a rational man to completely irrational acts.

Within moments, the icy sparks in her eyes dissolved and her expression turned contrite. “Oh, Erick, I’m so sorry.” She flew across the room and into his arms. Her supple form melted into his, and they sank back upon the sofa. His anger disappeared, banished by her intoxicating scent and the warmth of her body next to his.

He gathered her near and she sighed, snuggling closer. The touch of her breasts against his chest quickened his blood and he groaned to himself, all thoughts of her mother and his father forgotten.

“I did not mean to offend you, truly I didn’t.” She tilted her angelic face up toward his, her eyes misted by tears, her lips full and inviting. “I am so very worried.”

“I know, darling.” Just one kiss, he thought, simply to calm her. His lips brushed hers and he marveled at the pliant softness of her mouth, the way her lips opened slightly and the heady feel of her breath joined with his. Obviously, she needed more comfort than one insignificant kiss could provide. As her
fiancé, it was his responsibility—nay, his duty—to help her as much as possible. A duty he was more than willing to sacrifice himself for.

He feathered kisses along the line of her jaw until she moaned softly. Her head fell back, and he noted with satisfaction the dreamy look in her eyes.

It was ever so hard to concentrate when he kissed her, Belinda thought, but nice; very, very nice. He found a sensitive spot just below her ear and she gasped. She had no idea anything could feel quite so delicious. Lightly, he ran his lips down her neck, and her muscles dissolved in a warm puddle of trembling excitement. She sagged against him, an odd yearning for more building within her.

“After all,” he murmured between kisses, “it’s not as if we can do anything at this point.” This point, he thought, this magnificent, bewitching point. Deftly brushing away her sleeve, he exposed one perfect shoulder. He teased the satin skin with teeth and tongue and then his mouth drifted lower toward breasts now heaving with newfound arousal and innocent desire. His tongue traced the neckline of her bodice and her skin quivered beneath his touch. His words whispered against the swell of her breast. “It’s not as if we could go after them.”

The temptation of the valley between her breasts beckoned and enticed. His tongue tasted her heated flesh, and she shuddered. Aching need surged in his veins. Any determination not to allow their passion to triumph over them ebbed away. They were to be married, at any rate. What harm could there be in a few passionate kisses, a few intimate caresses, a mere moment of shared arousal?

“Erick,” she said softly. Vaguely, he noted that her breathing had slowed to nearly normal. He raised his head reluctantly and gazed into her eyes. A slight frown creased her forehead and a thoughtful expression graced her face. Erick stared in disbelief. His desire vanished, as if hit by an icy splash of water. Here he was, in the midst of a rather successful seduction, and the blasted chit wasn’t even paying attention!

She stared up at him. “Why can’t we?”

“Why can’t we what?” She might have dampened his ardor, but it would still take him a few moments to get his mind off the temptations she’d been so close to offering and he’d been more than willing to sample.

“Go to Egypt, of course.” She scrambled off the sofa and paced the room. Excitement built in her voice. “It’s perfect, Erick. With us along, your father can’t possibly take advantage of my mother.”

Erick shook his head, still wondering how she could shift from the throes of passion to exhibit enthusiasm for something altogether different so quickly and easily. God knows he couldn’t. He sighed in irritation, frustration sharpening the edges of his words. “I think you’ve forgotten a number of things.”

He stood to face her and ticked off the items on his fingers. “Number one, she did not go with my father; he is accompanying her for her own protection. As a favor to me, I might add. Number two, your mother has some kind of mysterious business in Egypt, and from what she has or has not said to both you and my father, I don’t believe she would welcome us along. Number three, they have already left. There’s no guarantee we could catch up with them.”

“And finally ...” With a flourish, he presented his trump card. “We have the same problem our parents do: no chaperone. The whole idea is absurd.”

“Piffle,” Belinda said with a wave of her hand.

“Piffle?”

“Piffle.” She nodded firmly. “Not one of your objections holds water.” She cast him a triumphant smile, then echoed his earlier gesture, counting her reasons off on her fingers. “Your Aunt Wynne can be our chaperone. I daresay the poor old dear would love a trip like this. She doesn’t seem to get out much. And if you go to the docks today, you can probably find out what route their ship was taking. With any luck we can take a ship with a faster or more direct route. Finally, regardless of what my mother does or does not want, she is behaving so oddly, I think it is in her best interest for us to act.”

“You mean interfere,” he said wryly.

“Perhaps.” She shrugged. “All I know is that my mother is normally a reserved, reasonable woman who never does anything the least bit impulsive or ill advised.”

Erick drew his brows together in a thoughtful frown. “I have been wondering about all this. You can not remember her behaving like this before?”

“Never.” Belinda shook her head in a blizzard of golden curls. “Although...”

“Yes?”

She hesitated, gathering distant, faded memories. “I was five when my father died and we went to live with a great-aunt of mother’s. Somewhere north, I think, fairly close to the sea. We stayed for about three years. Mother would disappear for days at a time. Looking back, I assumed she was simply trying to deal with my father’s death in her own way.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I was far too young to pay it any mind then and really haven’t thought much about it since. And she hasn’t behaved in any way unusual since we’ve lived in London.”

“Well, there’s probably nothing to it, then.”

“Probably,” she echoed. “So ...”

“So?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“So, you talk to your aunt and then find us a ship.” She grasped his arm and pulled him toward the door. “I’ll begin packing.”

He groaned. “Belinda...”

Her eyes sparkled with anticipation and she laughed. “We haven’t any time to spare, so off with you.” Belinda reached up and brushed his lips with hers, and for a moment the light in her eyes teased and tantalized him.

She practically pushed him out the door, and he paused for breath on the top step. He was not enthused at the idea of an ocean voyage that would very probably take months. Erick stalked toward his carriage in an indignant huff, wondering how he had gotten himself into this, and better yet, how he could get out of it. He would much rather stay in London, especially with Belinda’s mother away.
Although ... the revelation thundered through his mind and pulled him up short.

This trip would allow him to spend a considerable amount of time with Belinda. Aunt or no aunt, there would very likely be time alone. Alone, with the subtle rocking of a ship, warm ocean breezes, the magnificent Mediterranean moon and nowhere to run. Add Belinda to that scene, and it was not an unappealing vision. In fact, it painted quite a promising picture. And even if they failed, even if they never caught up to their parents, would that really be so terrible? Erick grinned and strode toward his carriage, now eager to set his
fiancée’s plan in motion.

Absurd or not, there were interesting possibilities in her proposal. Possibilities and a great deal of potential.

Wynnefred Harrington paused before the gilt-framed mirror in the foyer and impatiently tucked a stray tendril of chestnut hair into place. Unruly curls struggled to escape their haphazard captivity high on the back of her head. Large, dark eyes returned her critical stare behind gold-rimmed glasses. It was really quite an attractive face, even pretty. Fat lot of good it did her, she thought wryly. Wynne shrugged and turned from the mirror. She had far too many things to do today to waste time wondering about what might have been.

Still—she leaned against the chest centered below the mirror—it was a topic that occupied her mind more and more frequently these days. At two-and-thirty she was firmly on the shelf. It wasn’t that she’d never had the opportunity to marry; There’d been offers through the years. In her first seasons there were young men enamoured of her obvious charms, and later there were those more prone to appreciate her fortune than her face. But none had ever measured up to Father’s standards, or, for that matter, her own.

She had never met a man who came close to the mythical heroes, legendary leaders and knights in shining armor she devoured in the books she kept constantly close at hand.

Wynne was a genuine bluestocking and knew a certain amount of self-satisfaction in the derogatory title. She lived complete and happy lives in the stories and tales that filled her free time, exploring the world with adventures and travels and the latest scientific marvels.

Even without a home and family of her own, her life was exceedingly full. Besides her books, she’d been companion to her father, run his household with an efficient hand, acted as his hostess and, in addition, helped raise her nephew. And if the years had flown by unnoticed, so be it.

Now, Wynne’s mind was filled with what she thought of as her own personal story. A story she had yet to write. A story she had yet to live. With Father dead two years now, and Erick about to marry, Wynne saw no reason why she should not do exactly as she wished with her life. If Nicholas needed someone to run his home, he could bloody well find a wife. Wynne had never complained about putting her father’s and her nephew’s needs first, but now it was her turn. Just as soon as she had Erick safely married, she would pack her bags and set off to see the world. See for herself all the places she’d only read about. Maybe Italy and Greece one year, and China the next. Perhaps she’d even visit America. A dreamy smile drifted across her lips, and images of exotic places and unknown lands teased her mind.

The crash of the front door rudely pulled her from her reverie and the voice of her nephew planted her feet firmly back in reality.

“Aunt Wynne ...” Erick rushed to her side, clasped her hand and raised it to his lips. Wynne sighed to herself. As a child, he used to offer her some of his secret cache of sweets to get her to do what he wanted. With maturity came new techniques, but Wynne could still read Erick’s intentions as well as any of her books.

She drew back her hand and studied him with a knowing gaze. “Don’t bam me, Erick. What do you want?”

“What? Why, Aunt Wynne...” Erick’s eyes opened wide with feigned innocence. “You wound me to the quick.”

“Nonsense.” Wynne sniffed. “I’ve known you all your life and I certainly know when you are trying to wheedle something out of me. Now, what do you want?”

Erick took a deep breath. “It’s about the wedding. I’m afraid it has to be delayed.” Wynne’s heart sank. Her elusive freedom slipped farther away.

“Belinda’s mother has taken off on a somewhat mysterious and ill-advised voyage to Egypt, and Father has followed her.” He paused, as if to gauge her reaction.

Wynne simply raised an eyebrow, but her composed expression belied the rush of questions whirling through her mind, Nicholas had actually gone out of his way to go after a woman? Put himself to some trouble for a mere female? As far as she’d ever been able to see, her brother had no use for women except as managers of his household or fetching playthings to be toyed with and then
discarded. Disrupting his well-ordered life was unheard of.

During his long years of service to the Crown it had not been unusual for Nicholas to take off without a moment’s notice. Then he was involved in diplomatic missions, ferreting out smugglers and, Wynne long suspected, even spying. But this was different. This was not for king and country. This was for a woman.