“Depth, is it? She’s playing this game to catch herself an Earl, and ignores your feelings. How much ‘depth’ is that?”
“I’ve heard that her family is bankrupt. Perhaps she hasn’t a choice.”
“Sure, and she could marry you, if you asked her. I’m sure you could support her well enough.”
“Well, yes, I suppose I could. But what if money is all she cares about? I’m no one’s meal ticket.”
Stephen closed his book and placed it carefully on the mahogany table next to him. “Michael, my boy, does she care for you at all?”
“I thought she did. We’ve had such wonderful conversations -”
“And I’ve had ‘wonderful conversations’ with my great-aunt Mary, but that’s not romance, boyo.”
“I know, and I’m questioning everything now.”
“Because…?”
Michael sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and looked at Stephen. “Because I think I’ve been an idiot.”
“So now you’re down with a bad case of heartache?”
“I played my part at the captain’s table and, after that, it seemed like we were growing closer.”
“How much closer?”
“A short while ago, I saw her on the deck. We had a long chat about personal things -”
“How personal? Deeply personal?” Stephen wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.
Michael glared at him. “Not like that. We talked about things we both enjoy… the outdoors, the ocean, horses, and so on. But then, just as I was about to tell her the truth -”
Stephen’s eyes grew wide as he slapped his hand to his chest. “No, tell me you didn’t.”
“I didn’t, but only because her aunt interrupted us, and she looked peaky. So Anne sent me to get the old girl a glass of water.”
“And…?”
“And nothing. When I returned with the water, they were gone. So I went looking for her. And then I ran almost straight into that gal-sneaker Earl she was trying to win back.”
“You had words?”
“He told me she’d agreed to be his mistress, so I should bugger off.”
“And you believed him.”
Michael thrust out his chin. “Of course. He’s a gentleman.”
“Michael, my lad, you’re right. If you took that tosser at his word, you are an eejit.”
“Should I go find her, anyway?”
Stephen glanced at the clock. “Sorry, lad, but we’re due for rehearsal in five minutes. By the way, you may have to stand in for Romeo. I heard he ate some bad clams. The ship’s doctor says he’ll be out of commission for at least two days.”
“Just my luck. I’m in no mood for a love scene.”
Stephen stood up and shoved him towards the door. “Right now, it’s just a rehearsal. Besides, I think a good love scene is just what the doctor ordered. Especially if Miss High-and-Mighty will be in the audience to see it.”
Painful Truths
Anne paced the floor in the first-class lounge. Owen was 30 minutes late. She’d waited long enough.
Just then, the door flew open.
Owen grabbed her, wrapped his arms around her, and whispered in her ear, “Finally.”
“You spoke with her?”
“Just as I promised you. I told her that our future is ahead of us, and no barriers will stand in the way.”
“And she accepted that?”
“Of course, my darling. She doesn’t suspect a thing.”
Anne blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“Dear, sweet Anne, I’ve cleared the road for us. That’s all that matters.”
As he lowered his fat lips onto hers in a kiss, she shoved him away. “What do you mean? Did you break your engagement or not?”
Owen tilted his head to one side. “Wait… break my engagement? Sweet Anne, whatever do you mean?”
“You said I was your future, and you just said no barriers remain in our way. You meant marriage, didn’t you?”
Owen threw his head back and roared with laughter. “That’s a good one. You’re joking, of course.”
Anne’s eyes narrowed.
Owen seemed not to notice her reaction. “My dear, I am impressed. Until now, I didn’t realize what a dry wit you have.”
Her stomach lurched.
Owen continued, “Of course I’m going to marry Miss Keeble. Nothing has changed there. What I did – and rather well, if I say so myself – was convince her I’ll be faithful to her, and so on.”
“Just like you used to assure me of that same thing, over and over again -”
“Let’s not revisit those dark days, my dear. And don’t pretend that you expected me to marry you. Your father has lost his fortune, thanks to his financial ignorance.”
Anne sputtered, but Owen merely raised one hand.
“Anne, face the facts. When your father had money, his farming was a charming eccentricity. But without two farthings to rub together, he’s just… well, a farmer.”
Tugging at his waistcoat as if it needed adjustment, he sighed. “I’m an Earl and someday I’ll be a Duke. I can’t possibly marry a farmer’s daughter. Being my mistress is the best you can hope for.”
Anne’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve had other offers, you know.”
“Lord Chusterwood? You know that won’t wash. His heir showed up and exposed everything. Lady Blackwell regaled all of us with the story. Poor old Chusterwood…”
Anne stared at him. “You never cared for me at all, did you.”
It was a statement, not a question.
Owen shook his head sympathetically, “My dear, don’t torment yourself. We’ve always rubbed on together. And surely you didn’t expect a great romance. Not a dowdy little thing like you, with someone as popular as me.”
There wasn’t a note of irony in his voice.
Her head throbbed. Her entire body shook with rage. She grabbed the back of the nearest chair and wondered, Should I throw this at him, or just collapse on it?
Owen continued, “I know. You think it’s a step down to marry an American heiress.”
Anne blinked. She could not believe his arrogance.
He raised one hand and nodded slowly. “Before you think less of me, I should explain.”
As if I could possibly think less of you, she thought. I’d rather gamble on Chusterwood.
He mistook her expression for sympathy. “Yes, I’ll admit it. I’ve overindulged in wine, women, and song – or at least the gambling dens. Father said he’d cut me off if I don’t bring home a moneyed wife.”
“And that’s Miss Keeble.”
“My dear, her dowry is enormous, and she’ll have unlimited access to her father’s fortune. Think of the advantages!”
“So you’re going to keep me in style… with her money?”
“That sounds a bit crass but… well, yes.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say, my dear. You and I… we have an understanding.”
Then Owen lunged at her. His face puckered for a kiss.
Anne shoved him away with one hand, wrenched open the door with the other, and raced to her stateroom before she burst into tears.
Grace consoled her as best she could. After that, they took dinner in their stateroom, and did the same for breakfast the next morning.
***
By lunchtime, Grace was getting restless. “Anne, dearest, you can’t hide here for the rest of the voyage.”
“Yes, I can.”
“And let Owen think he’s won this round?”
“Does it matter?”
Grace shrugged. “I suppose not, but I feel guilty leaving you alone while I’m off playing bridge.”
“Go. Enjoy your game. I’ll be fine.”
But even as she uttered those words, she started to cry.
Grace wrapped her arms around her niece. “There, there. I understand. Just let it all out.”
Anne blew her nose loudly in her handkerchief and gazed ou
t the window as the words spilled out of her.
“What can I do, Aunt Grace? I have no options at all. None. Not Owen. Not Lord Chusterwood. And from the sound of it, I’m not sure Father can afford to keep even himself at the manor.”
Grace sighed. “Something will turn up. It always does. Did I tell you how your grandfather lost everything in the railroad scandal of 1847? Well, this isn’t as bad as that, and he recovered. So, chin up, and let’s go to the card room.”
Anne shrugged. “I don’t care to play cards.”
“Fine, no cards.” Grace put her hands on her hips and insisted, “I mean it, Anne Travers. Put on a fresh gown and let’s go out. I hear they’re putting on a matinee for first-class guests. Light scenes from Shakespeare, or some such. Seeing your young actor friend should cheer you up.”
Grace was right. Anne couldn’t spend the rest of the voyage in her room. Already, she felt as if the walls were closing in.
But, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see Michael. Something about his smile, and the way he looked at her… it made her pulse race.
No, she had to stop thinking of him. Marriage to an actor was impossible. How could she even imagine something so impractical?
Besides, he’d be backstage. Anne probably wouldn’t see him. In fact, she should never see him again, she decided.
She splashed water on her face, put on her most comfortable silk gown, and announced to the mirror, “I can do this. Even if Owen is there with his awful American heiress, so what? And even if I never see Michael again…”
She gulped back a sob, smoothed her gown, and then glanced in the mirror again. Her smile looked almost convincing as they left for the performance, but could she maintain it if Michael was there?
The Play's the Thing
They had set the stage for a variety of short scenes from Shakespeare’s plays. According to their printed programs, they’d see light scenes from “All’s Well that Ends Well,” the play-within-a-play from “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” and several other classics.
The final scene was from Romeo and Juliet, and – just as Anne was about to yawn – she saw someone like Michael on stage.
No… it was Michael. She was sure of it. He was in a wig, makeup, and a padded costume, but it was definitely him. She nudged Grace, whispering, “Look.”
“Oh, my goodness. Is that your young man? I thought he worked backstage.”
“Yes, but he fills in when an actor is sick.”
Grace nodded. “He’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
Michael and his Juliet delivered a flawless performance of the balcony scene, until the very last line.
That’s when, with an uneasy survey of the audience, Michael put his hands on both sides of Juliet’s face, and kissed her.
Anne sucked in her breath as she grabbed Grace’s hand, hard.
Michael’s kiss was passionate. Anne watched in horror as it seemed to go on forever.
Grace wriggled her hand. “Anne, dearest, let go. My fingers are going numb.”
“Sorry,” Anne apologized. “But did you see that?”
Grace shrugged. “It’s a play. People kiss. It’s what actors do, my dear.”
Then the full cast gathered, bowing in unison as the audience broke out in applause.
When they stood up, Michael looked straight at Anne.
She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes, but it didn’t matter. Why should she care? He’s an actor. There’s no future there, she reminded herself, though her heart was breaking.
Grace looked around nervously, but waited as Anne recovered her composure.
They left when the ship’s crew started stacking the chairs at the back of the stage and then drew the curtains closed.
In the hallway, Michael was waiting. His hair was tousled, and his chin still bore some makeup.
Grace eyed him nervously. “Anne, I’ll be in our room if you need me.” Then she whispered in Anne’s ear, “Be kind.”
Anne nodded and then stared at the carpet. In her mind, all she could see was him kissing that girl.
“You’re upset,” Michael said.
“No, just surprised,” she lied. “I didn’t expect to see you on stage.”
“And the kiss…?”
“Another surprise, but you were in heavy makeup. If Owen was in the audience, I doubt he recognized you.”
“You’re still holding out hope for him?”
“Perhaps,” she snapped, hoping her demeanor didn’t give her away.
She stared down the hallway, deliberately avoiding his gaze.
Suddenly, he broke out in a grin. “It’s that stage kiss, isn’t it.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I don’t care whom you kiss. And besides, it was just a kiss.”
He pulled her back into the now-empty parlour. And then he drew her close.
“No, Anne, that wasn’t a kiss. This is a kiss.”
When his lips met hers, she nearly melted into him. It was nothing like the clammy kisses Owen had placed on her mouth.
After a few intense seconds, Michael stepped back and looked at her, still breathing hard.
She put her hands over her face. I’ve embarrassed myself. To him, I must seem like a wanton.
Silence hung in the air. It seemed to last forever.
Michael was the first to recover.
“I’m so sorry, Anne,” he blurted. “I shouldn’t have done that. I guess I’m still swept up in the play… the thrill of the applause. Please forgive me.”
Her face felt like it was on fire.
Michael seemed at a loss for words. “Anne, I didn’t mean to… well… I’m sorry. I’ve spoiled things between us. Can we pretend it never happened? I didn’t mean it, really…”
That only made things worse. Anne pushed past him, and he didn’t follow her.
***
Grace was waiting in their stateroom. “It went badly?”
“I hate him,” Anne sobbed, throwing herself onto her bed. “Michael…,” she started, but grief overtook her before she could finish.
“Anne, be reasonable. He was never an option. He’s an American, and he’s an actor. No, not even that. He’s an aspiring actor.”
Anne nodded. “You’re right. But he was so kind, and we had so much in common. He seemed to care for me far more than Owen ever did.”
Grace repeated, “And how much was real? You asked him to play the part, and that’s what he did. He was the adoring, soon-to-be-jilted fiance. It was a role like any other. He said it himself, he was just honing his acting skills.”
Anne pushed her face into her pillow and cried even harder.
Grace clucked and wrapped her arms around Anne. “I’m sorry, my dear. I know it hurts, but it had to be said.”
She took the coverlet from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around Anne. “Take a nice nap. I will find an answer to this. Lord White has a twinkle in his eye when he looks at me. Maybe he’s the solution to our problems.”
Anne only half-listened. Michael had said he didn’t mean to kiss her. To him, it was all an act. As Shakespeare said, ‘the play’s the thing’, she thought, bitterly.
After Grace left for the card room, Anne sobbed until she fell asleep.
***
Several hours later, Grace returned and sat on the bed next to Anne.
“Wake up,” Grace insisted. “I have the answer. It came to me at cards.”
Anne could smell sherry on Grace’s breath. Well, that was normal for Grace when she spent time with her cronies.
Anne sat up and grabbed Grace’s hands. “Tell me everything. Did you get an offer from Lord White?”
Grace shook her head and laughed. “No, though now that you mention it… yes, that’s still possible.”
She kicked off her shoes and leaned back as if she might topple over, but Anne helped her regain her balance.
Grace hiccuped, then blotted her face with her handkerchief. “It was when we were playing cards. And, my dear, I won quite easily.”
Her eyes closed as if she were dozing off.
“And…?,” Anne prompted.
“Oh. Of course. That’s when I thought of it. A better solution. You’ll love this.”
Anne poured herself a glass of water from the carafe on the nightstand and took a deep breath. Knowing what Grace was like when she was tipsy, Anne suspected this “solution” could ruin what little reputation her family still had.
It didn’t take long for Grace to confirm that.
It's in His Kiss
Grace hiccuped and giggled.
“Grace, are you tipsy?”
“Maybe a little. It doesn’t matter. I swear I was sober when I thought of this.”
“All right…”
“I’ve been winning at cards, and tonight was a rather large haul, if I do say so myself.”
Anne prompted, “And your idea…?”
Grace’s eyes closed as her head drooped forward. Then she perked back up, and smiled. “I realized I could do this at home.”
“Get tipsy, or play cards?”
Grace chuckled and grabbed the glass of water from Anne. After one sip, she wrinkled her nose. “Eww, that’s water.”
“Yes, dearest, but what’s your plan to save us…”
“Oh. Yes. That. We could have a ladies’ card parlour in our home. After all, we have enough empty rooms that we don’t use for anything else.”
“Grace, you must be joking.”
Grace unrolled her stockings and stared at her feet as if she wasn’t sure they were hers. “No, I’m serious. We can have a country version of those ladies’ card parlours in London. The ones where rich women gamble. And we can charge a fee for them to play. And I can play, too, and – of course - win, regularly, and…”
Her voice trailed off as she tilted sideways on the bed, pulled her pillow under her head, and snored gently.
Anne sighed. “Another hare-brained idea.”
Grace opened one eye and glared at Anne. “I heard that. And I think it’s abso-loot-ley brilliant. Tell me just one thing that’s wrong with it.”
Why am I even arguing with her?, Anne wondered. She won’t remember half of this in the morning. “All right, you’ve been winning here on the ship, but ‘winning at cards’ isn’t a business plan.”
The Earl's Engagement (Love at Sea Book 1) Page 4