“Married!” Belinda quickly recovered from her impending swoon. “You’re the Countess of Wyldewood?” Eyes wide with surprise, she turned to Nicholas. “And that makes you my—”
“Stepfather.” In one practiced gesture, Nicholas stepped forward, took her hand, and lifted it to his lips.
“Splendid, Father.” Erick grinned.
“What an interesting turn of events,” Belinda said faintly. She retrieved her hand and cast a chastising look at her mother. “But, Mother, you were a marchioness and now to be a mere countess—”
“Good Lord, Belinda.” Anger flared within Sabrina. How could any child of hers turn out to be such a toplofty snob?
Confusion crossed Belinda’s lovely face. “But, Mother, I was simply being honest.” She cast an apologetic glance at Nicholas. “And, in point of fact, she did trade a higher title for a lesser one,” Belinda explained patiently. “She was a marchioness—”
“And now she’s a wife,” Nicholas said, a satisfied smile on his lips. “I suspect, if you were to ask her, she’d tell you she’s quite pleased with her, shall we say, bargain.”
Belinda’s anxious tone underlay her words. “Are you, Mother?”
Sabrina’s gaze caught her husband’s. Surprised, she noted her daughter’s question echoed in his eyes. The man still didn’t know how she felt about him. Her heart surged. Perhaps he did care for her after all.
She addressed her daughter but kept her gaze on her husband. “Yes, darling, I am pleased. I am very pleased.”
A gleam lit his eyes, and she trembled with the warmth of it. It no longer mattered that this man who had spoken so many words of love to so many women would likely never speak them to her with the meaning she longed for. He simply did not know how. But she suspected that somewhere deep within him a spark for her burned. His eyes told her that. And even if it was not the love she wanted, perhaps it was enough.
“Nicholas! I knew we would catch up to you eventually.” A beaming Lady Wynnefred swept up to them and kissed the air by her brother’s cheek. “And in Italy, how exciting. We have already had the most delightful adventures, I can’t tell you—”
Nicholas chuckled wryly. “I believe we have already heard quite a bit about these adventures, and it seems delightful may well be a matter of perspective.”
“Indeed?” Lady Wynnefred’s brows drew together thoughtfully above her gold-rimmed glasses. “I can’t imagine why anyone would not consider our activities to date thoroughly enjoyable. Of course, poor Erick here has been a bit under the weather. And dear Belinda does not seem to relish new experiences with quite the same enthusiasm one would hope for in someone of her age. Still, I—” Lady Wynnefred’s gaze met Sabrina’s. “I would suspect your daughter of all people would understand the lure of adventure.”
“Why on earth would you suspect that?” Sabrina’s words were cautious.
Lady Wynnefred shrugged. “Why, it’s obvious, my dear. First you take off on an unexpected and quite mysterious journey to ancient lands. Next, without warning, you marry a man you scarcely know—”
“You’ve already heard about that, have you?” Nicholas grinned.
Lady Wynnefred nodded toward Simon. “This gentleman was so kind as to tell me. I must say, I was somewhat amazed.”
“Surely you expected I would marry again someday?” Nicholas raised a brow in surprise.
Lady Wynnefred sighed. “I had hoped, of course. But when the time came, I did not expect you to wed, well, someone like this.”
“Forgive my interruption,” Sabrina said sarcastically. “I tend to lose patience when people discuss me as if I were not present. Exactly what do you mean, someone like this?”
“My dear, I do not mean to imply censure of any sort. On the contrary, I quite admire you. I have already mentioned your apparent appreciation of adventure and the unexpected. Your willingness to take on Nicholas as a husband confirms you comprehend the value of a challenge.”
“I hardly view myself as a challenge,” Nicholas said with a huff. “I’ve always been considered something of a catch on the marriage mart.”
Sabrina and his sister stared at him, then traded glances.
“Perhaps I am not making myself entirely clear.” Lady Wynnefred paused as if carefully choosing her words. “I imagine I had assumed when Nicholas finally wed again it would be to a woman who was far too proper to ever consider adventure of any type.” Lady Wynnefred cocked her head and eyed Sabrina in a considering manner. “Now that I think about it, I had always supposed you to be that type of creature. At least all I have ever heard about you would indicate that.”
“Things are not always as they appear,” Sabrina said dryly.
“So it would seem.” Lady Wynnefred smiled. “I believe we shall get on exceedingly well. Exceedingly well indeed. I am delighted to at last have a sister, and you must call me Wynne.” She cast an appraising glance over Sabrina. “And if you would loan me a pair of those charming breeches or help me procure a pair of my own—”
Nicholas groaned. “Wynne.”
“Bree.” Matt’s elbow dug into Sabrina’s side. “It seems everyone is acquainted here but me.” Matt’s gaze met Wynne’s, meshed and held. “What do I have to do to earn an introduction to this lovely lady?”
Sabrina stifled a grin at Matt’s blatant display of interest and the forbidding frown that crossed her husband’s face. “Of course. Whatever possessed me to forget myself this way?” Sabrina fluttered her lashes innocently at Matt and was rewarded by a quick scowl in return. “Matt, may I present Lady Wynnefred Harrington. Wynne, Matthew Madison, the captain of this ship.”
“Captain, you have a magnificent vessel.” A slight sultry tone marked Wynne’s voice. Sabrina exchanged surprised glances with her husband.
“Ah, but its magnificence pales in your presence.” Matt took Wynne’s hand and drew it to his lips. His gaze never broke from hers, their mutual attraction readily apparent.
The moment stretched between the two, oblivious to the inquisitive stares of those gathered around them. Sabrina glanced at Nicholas. Concern etched his countenance, and his dark eyes narrowed. Belinda’s features lit with curiosity, and her fiancé sported a man-of-the-world smirk. Even Simon joined the fascinated onlookers, and a wide grin stretched across his face.
“I daresay we should get everyone settled.” Sabrina’s voice shattered the silence and her own growing discomfort. It was as if she and the others had somehow intruded on an intimate liaison, a private moment, a romantic encounter.
Abruptly everyone burst into animated, nervous chatter. Wynne withdrew her hand from Matt’s, but there was a sense of reluctance about the act, as if she and he were unwilling or unable to relinquish the connection between them.
“If you ladies would care to follow me.” Simon led the way to Sabrina’s cabin, and the women took their leave in a flurry of inane comments.
Sabrina considered Wynne thoughtfully. Perhaps this would not be as amusing as she had thought, especially if Wynne returned Matt’s interest as quickly as it now appeared. As interesting as it would be to see Matt bested by an intelligent and clever woman, she would not want to see his heart broken. And Wynne’s reaction to him indicated the possibility of heartbreak could well exist on both sides. She did not know Wynne well and now wondered if indeed anyone knew her at all. Her reputation did not indicate the kind of woman who would be attracted to someone as brash and boisterous as Matt.
Could it be that after all these years of living through her books, Wynne Harrington was now ready to leap into life with a vengeance? Was the well-known bluestocking hiding a spirit just waiting to be released by the touch of adventure and the lure of the unknown? And what would a woman like that become with the excitement of freedom and the promise of passion at long last within reach?
With a start Sabrina realized Wynne was not so very different from herself. For years she too had hidden her real self from the condemning eyes of society. Only now had her quest brought out
the woman she truly was, the woman she’d always been.
Sabrina smiled to herself and followed her daughter and sister-in-law into her cabin. If Nicholas thought he’d had difficulties with a wife who had a mind of her own, she wouldn’t hazard to guess how he would react to a sister enthusiastically embracing an entire new world of experience.
Especially when it appeared that embrace would very likely include a rakish American sea captain.
Chapter 14
“I daresay you’re overreacting, Father. We have only a week or two remaining until we reach Egypt. What can happen in so short a time?”
“More than you can imagine,” Nicholas said, brooding. He recalled how little time it took for him to fall completely under Sabrina’s spell.
Erick sat in the lone chair in the cramped cabin he now shared with his father. Nicholas perched uncomfortably on a narrow bunk and surveyed the tiny room with disgust. He’d thought he’d seen the last of this uncomfortable accommodation when he had tossed his valise into Sabrina’s cabin.
“Are you certain Captain Madison has designs on Aunt Wynne?”
Nicholas threw his son a disbelieving glance. Surely the boy was not that naïve. Madison’s intentions were obvious to anyone who had witnessed his meeting with Wynne. Nicholas snorted. “As certain as knowing what a rooster’s intentions are in a henhouse.”
“Perhaps it’s just as well.”
“What in God’s name do you mean, just as well?”
Erick shrugged. “At her age, Aunt Wynne is past praying for. Madison may well be her only chance to wed.”
“Bloody hell, Erick.” Nicholas leaped to his feet and promptly smacked his head on a low beam. “Yow!” He glowered at the offending timber. He would not put it past Madison to have maneuvered everything up to and including the appearance of his son and sister, simply to place him back in these disgracefully meager quarters.
Nicholas rubbed his head gingerly. “Madison has no intention of marrying your aunt. He has no desire to be leg-shackled. I have seen far too many men just like him to be certain of that. No, marriage is not what he wants.”
“Well, surely Aunt Wynne will not discard her virtue easily?”
Abruptly Nicholas realized his fears might well be unfounded after all. His sister was a practical, proper woman. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course she won’t. I hadn’t thought of that. Wynne will not disregard years of proper behavior, impeccable breeding, and her duty to her family simply because a rogue like Madison whispers a few tender words in her ear.”
“Still…” Erick said thoughtfully.
“Still?”
“Aunt Wynne’s behavior on this trip thus far has been somewhat…” Erick’s words were measured and evasive. “Different than her manner in the past.”
“Different?” Foreboding pulled Nicholas’s dark brows together. “Explain yourself.”
Erick sighed. “I’m not sure I can.” He paused as if collecting his thoughts. “From the moment I first asked her to accompany us, it has been as if she has had a purpose all her own on this journey. She has always been extremely capable and excessively knowledgeable.” He grimaced. “For as long as I can remember she has always had a book in hand. But now there is a quiet excitement about her, an odd sort of suppressed energy.” Erick shook his head helplessly. “I daresay I’m not expressing this well. It’s as if she is waiting, as if she is expecting something. Take my word for it, Aunt Wynne has definitely changed.”
“Surely you’re exaggerating differences that could well be attributed to the stimulation of traveling.”
Erick shook his head. “I don’t think so, Father.”
Nicholas paced the short length of the cabin in an uncomfortable hunched posture. He could stand upright, but only with care. Walking meant avoiding stout beams lurking in wait to batter his already bruised head.
“If you’re right about your aunt, there may well be little we can do to protect her from Madison’s advances. However, I think we can at least attempt to intercede in any way possible to ensure they are never alone together.”
“Father,” Erick said cautiously. “I suspect that will be extremely awkward, if not impossible. We cannot watch them every minute. Besides.” He breathed a heavy sigh. “I fear I will not be of much assistance. I shall be incapacitated within an hour of hitting open seas.”
“So I hear.” Nicholas frowned. “I can sympathize, my boy, although I’ve never felt the ravages of seasickness myself.”
“Ravage is the right word for it,” Erick said under his breath. “But far worse than the illness itself is the effect it seems to have on Belinda.”
“What effect?”
“I feel as if somehow I’ve disappointed her.” Erick shot to his feet, and Nicholas winced in the anticipation that his son’s head would suffer the same fate as his own. Erick was less than an inch shorter than his father, but somehow he managed to stand upright without so much as a hair brushing a beam.
“Damnation, Father. I don’t know what to do.” Erick paced the length of the cabin. Without apparent effort he avoided contact with the ceiling’s lethal projections, and Nicholas watched in admiration. “When we began this voyage, I anticipated it would provide the opportunity to see more of each other. To spend time away from the crowded social whirl of London and be with each other without always being under the watchful eyes of chaperones or ton gossips. But this annoying problem of mine has destroyed any possibility of being together. I suspect her feelings for me may even have changed.”
“Would that be such a tragedy?” Nicholas’s words were matter-of-fact, but he studied his son intensely.
“Blast it all, Father.” Erick glared. “I love her. I want her. And she will be mine.” His tone softened and his shoulders sagged. “I am simply no longer certain if she wants me.” His gaze met his father’s in mute appeal. “What shall I do?”
For the first time in Nicholas’s life, his son had turned to him for advice. A small knot clenched in his stomach. He was not precisely certain how to give fatherly advice. Lord knew his own father could not be bothered.
Nicholas pulled a deep breath. He was not his father and he would not let his son down.
“Well.” His tone surprised him, an effortless mix of sage wisdom and mature authority. “Well,” he said again, enjoying the way the word rolled off his tongue with fatherly insight. “It would appear to me that the way to ensnare a young girl’s affections would be to appeal to her sense of romance. Plying her with flowers and other sentimental gifts could be extremely effective.”
A skeptical expression hung on Erick’s face. “I doubt that would work in this particular situation.”
“You know,” Nicholas said thoughtfully, “I have noticed women, especially young women, have a peculiar affinity for men of a heroic nature. Lord knows, women of all ages, even the most respectable, seem to throw themselves at Wellington. Perhaps you could be alert to any heroic acts that may present themselves while we are in Egypt. It is a ruthless place these days and there could well be ample opportunity.”
“Do you depend on heroic acts to win women’s favors?”
“Me?” Nicholas grinned. “Never. I have rarely had to actively pursue a woman. Quite the reverse. Typically they seek me out.”
“What about my mother? Didn’t you court her?”
“No, to my chagrin, I did not.” Nicholas shook his head. “Ours was an arranged match. We met but once before we wed. Your grandfather was convinced he was about to stick his spoon in the wall and equally certain I would not carry out my responsibility and provide an heir. I had little to say about the match. I was younger than you are now.
“Your mother was a sweet, biddable girl, but I was consumed with work that I perceived as my duty to king and country and was not often with her. I regret to say I never really knew her. So you see, it was not a grand passion. Not at all what you appear to be seeking with Belinda.”
“Do you have a grand passion with Lady Stanford?”
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Nicholas paused and considered his son’s query. Was this a grand passion? Did he find there was no light in the day if she was not present? Did his heart pound and his pulse race when he held her in his arms? Did he fiercely and jealously want to possess not only her comely body but her very soul?
He grinned again and shrugged, at once more than a little self-conscious. “I believe it is, my boy. I do believe it is.”
Lady Wynnefred stood toward the bow of the ship, tangled brown curls billowing behind her. She leaned slightly into the wind as if eager for its caress. The breeze molded her man’s shirt to her shapely breasts. She resembled nothing so much as a sea nymph basking in the sun.
Lovely indeed, but Matt had seen lovelier. Ports around the world were filled with exotic, intoxicating beauties. No, it was not her striking appearance that drew him like a fish on a line. The woman had an air about her, a promise, perhaps, of excitement. There was a sense of anticipation, as if she were ready to burst into life.
Standing now, proud and tall, facing the winds and the sea, she could well have been the model for a ship’s figurehead a hundred years or so ago. Matt grinned at the fanciful notion.
“Is staring an American trait, or is rudeness simply part of your personal nature?” Her voice was calm and collected, carrying more curiosity than censure.
He hadn’t realized she’d seen him watching her. Matt’s grin widened.
“A little of both, I expect,” he said, and strode the few remaining steps to reach her.
Behind glasses that seemed to highlight rather than detract, her eyes were as black as her brother’s. Mesmerizing. Enchanting. Perhaps she was the loveliest creature he’d ever encountered after all.
He flicked his gaze along her supple frame in an impertinent manner designed to incite or possibly challenge. He’d long been used to seeing Bree in men’s clothing. He’d seen other women in far more revealing costumes, South Seas islanders with little but a scarf wrapped around their waists. But clad in forbidden attire, this vision of the flower of English womanhood stirred his senses. The man’s shirt and breeches embraced the curves of her body like a long-lost love. Lady Wynnefred withstood his assessment without so much as a flinch. “Those clothes suit you.”
The Perfect Wife Page 19