The Marriage Masquerade

by Erica Vetsch

  Grandfather! Nick grimaced. He should’ve known the old man wouldn’t take his defection lying down. But to announce the engagement in the papers? Without even knowing where Nick was? No, Abraham Kennebrae wouldn’t do that. Jonathan must’ve told Grandfather where Nick had gone. His fists tightened. He’d have a word or two for his older brother when they met again.

  A sob caught his ear. Annie rose, her eyes wide and accusing. “Engaged?” She blinked, sending a tear cascading down her cheek. “You’re engaged to be married?” Without waiting for an answer, she fled, shoulders shaking, head bent.

  Dillon rose, snickering. “Well, it seems your betrothal comes as a shock to the young lady. Just what sort of relationship do you have with the girl? Perhaps it is best both of you are leaving the island. The Lighthouse Board will not tolerate loose morals amongst its workforce.”

  Nick’s hands shot out and grabbed Dillon by the lapels. He hauled the shorter man up until he stood on tiptoe.

  Blood drained from Dillon’s face, his eyes stretching open until white showed all the way around his irises.

  Nick towered over him, panting. “How dare you besmirch that girl’s character! She’s as innocent and pure as spring rain. Don’t judge everyone by your low standards, you guttersnipe.” He shook the inspector. “You’ve waltzed in here, eager to hurt and ruin and destroy. Well, you’ve accomplished your mission. But know this, if you ever cross my path again, if you ever utter one word against Annie Fairfax, I’ll see you pay for it. I’ll throw every bit of influence the Kennebrae name has behind seeing you ruined and thrown out of the Lighthouse Service.” Nick released his grasp, and Dillon fell back in the chair in a heap. Nick’s hand shook with the urge to haul the petty little man upright again and punch him as he had the drunken captain.

  Ezra stepped between them, putting his hands on Nick’s upper arms. “No more, son. You’ve defended her honor. Anything more would be wrong.”

  For a long moment, Nick stood still, muscles tense, pulse throbbing. Then his head dropped, his shoulders sagging. He had to go after Annie, to try to explain. If only he’d come clean two days ago instead of walking away from her.

  Lord, I know I shouldn’t ask You for help getting out of my own tangled lies, but if You could please help me find a way out of this, a way of telling Annie the truth, I’d be grateful.

  He headed into the kitchen. A gust of wind caught the screen door, yanking it open then whipping it shut with a crack. With quick steps he crossed the floor to stick his head outside. A gust pushed against his face, chill and moist, a precursor to rain. Black clouds tumbled overhead, darkening the sky. Annie would have to wait. He started toward the tower. With inclement weather rolling in, he must get the lamps lit.

  His footsteps clanged on the metal stairs. He jogged upwards, eager to do his duty and then find Annie. Though his hands raced, pumping the fuel tanks, checking the gauges, lighting the kerosene wicks, his mind raced faster. What could he say to her? How could he make her understand about his grandfather and his family and the loss of his ship which prompted his escape in the first place? Would she listen to him? Would she understand?

  The lamps flared to life, momentarily blinding him as he shut the panel and ducked out from under the lens. He hustled down the stairs to release the pin holding the chained weights. The lantern began to revolve. Nick blinked, grasping his watch to check the timing. Perfect. Ironic, that. Everything in his life had exploded into chaos, but the light mechanisms rolled on.

  He stepped outside the watch room and from habit scanned the lake. The dark hulk of a freighter plowed through the rising waves. Nick grabbed a pair of field glasses from the hook inside the door and held them to his eyes. No name showed on the bows. Every inch of the ship gleamed with new paint. She bucked, her nose slewing a bit. Why didn’t her captain straighten her out to face the waves instead of taking them quarterways? If the storm broke in a fury, the boat could swamp, or worse, roll completely over.

  Nick jerked the glasses down. He didn’t have time for this. He had to find Annie. Before he could return the binoculars to their hook, a distress whistle pierced the stormy air.

  seventeen

  Morse flashes began from the pilothouse. Nick grabbed a pencil and paper from the watch room desk and began transcribing the signals.

  CAPTAIN INJURED. MUST REACH DULUTH QUICKLY. NEED YOUR HELP, NOAH. WILL SEND LAUNCH. ELI. CAPTAIN INJURED. MUST REACH DULUTH QUICKLY. NEED YOUR HELP, NOAH. WILL SEND LAUNCH. ELI. CAPTAIN—

  Nick quit transcribing, the pencil falling to the grass. Eli was on that ship? And he knew Nick was on Sutton Island? The distress whistle pierced the air again.

  Clyde and Ezra hurried around the corner of the watch room. “What is it?”

  Nick held out the paper to Ezra. “It’s my brother. They need help.”

  Ezra scanned the page. “Clyde, you’re on the watch. Make the proper journal notation. Nick, er, Noah? I hardly know what to call you. Captain Kennebrae?” He stared intently at Nick’s face.

  Familiar guilt pierced Nick’s chest at the mention of his former title. All the doubt, the pain, the shame he’d been running from for months crowded back, rooting him to the spot.

  Captain.

  He couldn’t go, couldn’t step onto the deck and assume command ever again. He couldn’t run the risk of making another mistake, of taking the lives of innocent crewmen.

  Ezra peered through the glasses. “They’re putting out a launch. Water’s getting wild out there.”

  A fat raindrop pelted Nick’s cheek. The cold water startled him, shaking him to life. “What does he think I can do?”

  “You can get that ship into the harbor safely.”

  Nick studied the ship. A brand new boat, probably only a skeleton crew aboard. With the captain out of action, there likely wasn’t another crewman aboard who could take a ship into Duluth in a storm. Especially riding light and getting kicked around in a wind that would only worsen as the storm rolled over.

  “You have to go, son.” Ezra lowered the glasses. “You’re the only one who can help them.”

  Still Nick stood, rain falling faster. He couldn’t do it. And yet, if he didn’t, wouldn’t he be condemned anyway? God, what are You trying to do to me? “I’ll go. Have Clyde pack my gear on the ferry tomorrow.” He thrust out his hand. “I know I have a lot of explaining to do, and if I had time I would. For now, know that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and that I regret deceiving you.”

  Ezra shook his hand, looking him square in the eyes. “Son, I can guess at your reasons. And I don’t hold anything against you. Your brother needs your help. Get down to the dock quick now, and go with God.”

  “Signal the ship that I’ll meet the launch.” Nick tossed the words back over his shoulder as he headed for the path to the water. “And tell Annie I’m sorry.”

  Annie stood beside the window of her bedroom, arms crossed at her waist, head leaning against the curtains. Raindrops streamed down the panes, making the trees and buildings outside watery blobs of color. Every ten seconds the beacon swept overhead, its light shaft spearing the downpour.

  No wonder he walked away from me. He’s got a fiancée in Duluth.

  What was she like? Was she beautiful? Nick … no, Noah—she must think of him as Noah Kennebrae now—was returning to his family to marry someone else. Another tear slipped down her cheek.

  At least she hadn’t broken down and told him her own identity. He never would’ve believed her. Here she was running from an engagement set up by her father, straight into the arms of a man who had a woman he loved back in Duluth. Of all the idiotic things to do. Why hadn’t Ni—Noah told her? She never would’ve dreamed such fanciful, impossible dreams about him if she’d known he was in love with someone else.

  Someone tapped on the door. She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially not Noah Kennebrae.

  The door opened. “Annie, child.” Hazel.

  Annie stood still. She’d gro
wn up enough in the past six weeks to resist the urge to throw herself into Hazel’s comforting arms and let her governess soothe away some of the hurt. A hard lump formed in Annie’s throat.

  “Anastasia, stop pouting and listen to me. I didn’t come all this way for you to ignore me.” Hazel’s sharp, familiar tone forced Annie to turn around, but she kept her arms crossed in a defiant gesture. “Now sit down and let me talk.”

  Annie walked to the end of the bed and sat, pressing her hip into the footboard.

  Hazel took the chair beside the dresser and positioned it so she could sit face-to-face with Annie. She eased her small body down.

  “Child, I’ve regretted helping you leave Michaelton House since the moment you escaped. I’ve wrestled with my Lord and with my conscience every day. I had no right to help you defy your father, and I’m guilty of lying to him. But no more. I know you won’t like it, but I’ve told him exactly where you are. I contacted Jasper Dillon and arranged to take your place. Jasper doesn’t know who you are, and that’s just the way your father wants it. Mercy, was he angry.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “They’ve had the police looking for you and everything. I could hardly stand not telling them you were all right. Your father was so worried about you. I couldn’t have him fearing the worst, and I couldn’t stand lying to him anymore.”

  Lies. Everywhere lies. Annie let her hands fall to her lap. She was so tired of the lies. “It’s all right, Hazel. You know, just this afternoon I screwed up my courage to come clean, to tell everyone here who I was. I guess it doesn’t matter now. The one person I really wanted to tell was hiding secrets of his own.”

  Hazel’s dark eyes searched Annie’s face. “Just what do you feel for that man, Noah Kennebrae?”

  The sound of his name made prickles of shame race up her arms. “I don’t feel anything for Noah Kennebrae. I thought I loved Nick Kennedy though.” Her voice came out in a whisper. “I did love him.”

  Hazel crossed the room and sat beside Annie. Her thin, old arms came around Annie’s shoulders. “Annie, girl, I’m sorry. I wish I’d never gone along with helping you escape. I didn’t think of all the trouble it would cause. Your father is sending a launch for you in the morning. He didn’t want you on the ferry for fear someone might recognize you and ask awkward questions. He’ll meet you in the harbor as soon as you dock. Do exactly as he says. He’s going to bluster at you, but trust me, he loves you and he was worried about you. Things will turn out for the best. Just trust me.”

  “Trust you? Trust isn’t coming easy these days. I can’t even trust myself.”

  “Well, if you can’t trust me, then trust the Good Lord. He knows what is best for you, and He says to obey your father. Have a little faith.”

  Annie said no more. She had never felt so alone, so abandoned before. Even Hazel had taken her father’s part. But it didn’t matter anymore. She’d lost Nick forever. Without him, she might as well fall in line with whatever future her father had planned.

  Nick met the dingy at the dock and hopped aboard without even waiting for them to tie up. Now that he’d made the decision to go, he wanted to get there as quickly as possible. Rain lashed his face; spray kicked up before the bow of the launch, splashing into the boat. The two-man crew fought to keep the craft pointed into the waves. Nick grabbed a bucket and bailed the water sloshing around his boots.

  The ship lurched on the rough seas, bobbing as the surf increased. Lightning split the sky, followed by a boom of thunder. Nick ducked instinctively. The clouds opened. He swiped the water from his eyes and shivered. Even in early June, the storm chilled to the bone. His mind balked at what he was about to do, but his heart had no choice. Not when his brother, his twin, needed him.

  The small boat pulled alongside the freighter, the boats crashing together. A rope ladder flopped over the side. Nick grabbed the wet hemp, his boot slipping on the soaked wooden rung. A wave slapped the side of the freighter, dousing him with icy lake water. His teeth clattered together.

  Hands reached down from the railing above and grabbed his shoulders and arms, heaving him onto the deck. Around him, ropes were hurled down to the men in the launch to make fast so the small craft could be winched aloft and lashed to the deck.

  Nick clung to the rail, getting his sea legs, then made his way to the pilothouse. Warm light showed in fuzzy, rain-smeared halos from the windows. He couldn’t help but notice that this ship was designed exactly like the Bethany, from the pilothouse to the deck to the smokestack. Horrible feelings of déjà vu swept over him. Familiar, terrible, walking-through-his-own-nightmare feelings.

  Eli met him at the pilothouse door. His brother—younger by twenty-three minutes—grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a mighty hug. Relief etched his features. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. We’re in a mess.”

  And Nick was supposed to get them out of it? His stomach roiled, weakness radiating out from his middle and draining his limbs of strength. What was he doing here?

  Eli pulled him into the pilothouse.

  A gust of warmth hit Nick’s face. Steam heat. Water dripped from his clothes onto the floor. Everything was just the same—the pilothouse, the chart room behind, the brass chadburn, all exactly like the Bethany.

  “Get out of that wet jacket. Here, put this on.” Eli swept a coat off a hook beside the door to the chart room.

  Nick shucked the sodden garment and shouldered into the rough, dry wool coat Eli handed him. In the center of the pilothouse, behind and to the right of the wheel and helmsman, the captain’s chair stood bolted to the floor. Nick averted his eyes. He couldn’t sit there. He couldn’t let these men place their lives in his hands. “Where’s the captain?” Perhaps the injury wasn’t too bad. Perhaps the captain would be here soon to take over.

  “We put him in his cabin. He slipped going down the ladder into the engine room and hit his head. Bled like crazy and he hasn’t woken up. I think he broke some ribs in the fall, too. The cook is sitting with him. He needs more doctoring than we can give him.”

  The helmsman gripped the wheel, brow scrunched, face pale. The ship took another broadside wave and rolled.

  Nick grabbed the back of the captain’s chair, bracing himself. “Helm, ten degrees right rudder.” He hadn’t meant to bark the order, but the words forced their way out of his throat. “All ahead two-thirds.” His hand grasped the cold brass handle of the chadburn, and he dialed down to the engine room for more power. “Keep the bow pointed into the waves.” The mantle of command crowded about him with uneasy familiarity.

  Eli clapped him on the back. “Boy, am I glad you answered my call.”

  “What are you doing on the lake in a green boat with a skeleton crew? I thought you were in Virginia.”

  Eli braced against the pitch of the hull. “She’s the Kennebrae Siloam, fresh off the ways of the shipyard. Grandfather cabled me to pick her up in Detroit on the way home and get back to Duluth on the double. Said I couldn’t miss your engagement party. He’s still sore I didn’t make it back for Jonathan’s wedding. The question is what are you doing on Sutton Island?”

  Noah shook his head. Grandfather’s scheming was another thing he’d have to deal with, but not now. “Later.” He tapped the helmsman on the shoulder. “Straighten out that bow and stop looking at the compass. The pull of the iron ranges throws the compass off course. Keep your eyes peeled for the Two Harbors light. Even in these conditions, you should be able to pick it up fairly soon.” Like they had that fateful night last November. He should’ve tried the turn into Two Harbors instead of running for Duluth. Then maybe his men wouldn’t have perished.

  Lord, I can’t do this. Why have You brought me back here to this place? Why have You put another crew’s fate in my hands?

  To take his mind off his reeling thoughts, he turned to Eli. “I suppose Jonathan told you where I was?”

  Eli braced his legs and held onto the rail running under the pilothouse windows. “Don’t be sore at Jonathan.
He was all set to come get you himself a month ago, but Grandfather told him to wait. Something about the wedding plans being on hold and Sutton Island being as good a place as any for you to wait. Jonathan’s letter wasn’t all that clear.”

  “I’ll bet.” Noah rubbed his face.

  “Sir?” The helmsman gripped the wheel, holding it hard against the force of the wind and waves. “Will we be trying to make Two Harbors?”

  At that moment another scalding shaft of lightning arced across the sky. Noah blinked against the black spots hovering in his view.

  Eli spoke up, “The captain needs doctoring, but I think Duluth is his best chance. I’m not even sure if there is a doctor in Two Harbors.”

  Memories swamped Noah. The Bethany bucking and heaving in the storm. The decision not to try to make the turn into Two Harbors. Jonathan’s face, so pale. Everyone relying on Noah to know what to do. He swallowed hard. “How many crew members aboard?”

  “Eight, counting the cook. Two stokers—they came to get you in the launch—two deckhands, an engineer, the helmsman, the cook, and the captain. Then there’s you and me.” Eli ticked them off on his fingers. “Ten, all together. And, Noah, we’re light on fuel. With no load and a quick run from Detroit to Duluth, they didn’t top up the coal bunkers.”

  A hollow pit Noah had been trying to ignore swelled in his middle. Low on fuel, green boat, skeleton crew, huge storm. If the captain downstairs wasn’t in such dire need of medical attention, the smart thing to do would be to drop anchor and ride out the storm, maintaining just enough power to keep them headed into the waves. Noah tugged on his bottom lip, wishing he had his whiskers back to rub while he thought.

  “Call everyone to the pilothouse.”