by Jina Bacarr
‘Don’t you think I do?’ he countered, hurting inside. He tried not to show it.
She looked at him with an accusing glare. ‘Once you’re through with her, then what? The girl will have nothing to show for it but a smile on her face.’
‘You’ve made your point, Fiona,’ he said, his mind fixed on the matter of keeping Ava safe. ‘What do you suggest I do?’
‘Don’t see her again.’
‘What?’ Like hell he wouldn’t. But he wouldn’t tell her that.
‘She can stay in my employ until we arrive in New York, then I’ll ask Trey to find her a position.’
‘Does this mean our friendship is also at an end?’ he asked carefully.
‘Yes, Buck. It should have been done with years ago, but I was too blind to see what you really are.’
‘And what is that, if I may ask?’
‘A selfish opportunist who can never truly love any woman.’ She grabbed the Irish girl by the arm. ‘Come, Ava, it’s late and Sunday church services are in the morning.’
Ava, who had been strangely silent throughout their heated exchange, pulled away from the countess then grabbed her clothes. She stepped into her chemise and lifted it up to cover herself. ‘Don’t I have a say in my own life, your ladyship?’
‘No!’ Buck and the countess blurted out together, louder than the shriek of the ship’s whistles.
Ava stepped back, her hands flying up in the air. Her jaw dropped as a sense of astonishment sparked in her green eyes.
‘In all my days, who would believe a poor Irish girl would come between a countess and the son of a duke,’ she said in awe, dressing quickly.
Buck ached inside, watching her, wanting to hold her again, caress every inch of her. Never before had he felt such a bond to any woman, even with all the responsibilities that came with her. Never before had he been willing to accept those obligations, retreating as he always did at the first sign of commitment. A jealous husband was just an excuse for him to break off the affair.
This time a jealous woman made him see the light.
He let the countess’s words sink in, whirl around in his brain like a dervish, but the answer was always the same and one he never expected. A savage determination gripped him to possess Ava, not as his mistress, but as his—
My God, had he actually formed the word in his mind?
‘Ava, I… I…’ he stammered, the words not coming, though he tried. Why was his confidence wavering? Only one reason. His desire was tinged by the fear she’d turn him down.
A new and unbelievable predicament for him, but possible nonetheless.
‘You don’t have to say your piece to me, your lordship,’ Ava said, her eyes pleading with him. ‘The countess is right. I have to stay with her.’
He understood. His wild, impetuous Ava was holding her tongue, though it killed her.
Why? The answer was obvious.
She’d never get off the ship if the countess sacked her.
Buck found himself struggling with doing what he wanted or what would keep her safe. In the end, he had no choice but to go along with this charade or lose her forever.
‘Goodbye, Buck,’ said the countess, hustling the girl along. ‘Don’t try to see Ava again.’
With a pained look on her face, Ava’s eyes met his, her heart wounded, but her spirit still wanting to fight.
Don’t give up, Ava, the pleading in his eyes said, but it was clear they both wondered if they’d ever see each other again.
Then the women were gone.
Buck sat on the edge of the bed for what seemed like a long time, the girl’s sweet scent rising up from the soft satin bedding and overwhelming his senses. He became aware of the rapid beating of his heart in his chest. An empty feeling added to his misery. He went over the whole damn scene again and again, coming up with the same answer every time.
Once he explained to the countess he had changed and his intentions toward Ava were honorable, she’d understand.
He never intended to hurt Fiona. In the end, she’d have to accept the fact he was in love with another woman.
She would, wouldn’t she?
Buck cursed under his breath, trying to cope with what was, for him, a new experience. He’d never asked to fall in love with this girl, and now that he had, his whole life was turned upside down.
Who would ever have dreamed this wandering gentleman gambler would try to make an honest woman out of her, as Ava had so aptly put it, and that it would be so difficult?
Worse yet, he’d let her go in a reckless moment without letting Ava know how he felt about her. Damnation, she must hate him after this. He prayed she understood his silence.
Hell be damned, was he a fool? What woman would understand her lover abandoning her?
With a heavy heart, he paced up and down the room. All the eloquent excuses in the world wouldn’t do him any good. He felt a strange sense of betrayal to Ava. He’d let her down, allowing Fiona to take her away.
He jammed through the stateroom door, looking up and down the long corridor. He was determined to tell Ava how he felt about her, but the two women were nowhere to be seen.
He ventured out, threading his way through the long corridor. He was shirtless, wearing only his black trousers. It was late. Ava was gone. He prayed she was already back in the countess’s stateroom for the night.
Safe.
But for how long? The shadows were closing around the girl and there was nothing he could do to stop them. The ship’s officers had their orders and would continue their search. Buck couldn’t bear the thought of them sending her back to Ireland in chains. He believed her innocent and would risk everything he had to help her.
A deep sadness claimed his heart. He had the strangest feeling she was already lost to him.
He retreated back to his cabin and laid out his clothes for Sunday church services. He would attempt to make amends with the countess, make her understand his feelings for Ava were not that of a rogue, but a gentleman eager to court his love.
He opened the porthole in his cabin to get a breath of fresh air and a cold breeze blew in, making him shiver. A strange, clammy odor assaulted his nostrils.
Ice.
18
‘Someday you’ll thank me, Ava, for saving you from Captain Lord Blackthorn and his false promises.’
The countess poured herself a cup of lukewarm cocoa from a silver pot, her abrupt gesture telling Ava she was displeased with her.
‘Will I?’ Ava raised her eyes.
‘Of course you will,’ said the countess, sipping her chocolate. She left the sweet biscuits the stewardess had brought untouched. ‘It’s for your own good.’
‘And yours.’
She turned to find the countess glaring at her with an icy stare.
Startled, her ladyship slammed down her teacup and rattled her saucer. ‘Why, you ungrateful girl.’
Ava lowered her eyes, a pink tint flooding her cheeks. Her guilt showed as clear as if she’d been caught with her hand in the Sunday collection basket. She’d spoken her piece without thinking, the truth flying out of her mouth like avenging angels and with that, everything changed.
She’d struck a nerve in the countess, impulsive words falling from her lips that made the woman edgy and suspicious.
Ava froze. What made her outburst so unforgiveable was they both knew it was true.
You couldn’t hold your tongue, could you, girl? And such a fine performance you gave for Captain Lord Blackthorn, keeping your mouth shut and acting all grand and good.
You’ll pay for this.
‘Explain yourself, Ava,’ the countess asked, her eyes narrowing. She tapped her teaspoon against her cup in a nervous manner.
‘I’ll not take it back, your ladyship, and give you the pretty words you want to hear,’ Ava said, staying true to herself. ‘If I did, I’d be lying and that’s a sin against the Church.’ She was in enough trouble already with the Almighty to add to her woes. ‘The way I see it, your lad
yship, if you can’t have Buck, no woman can.’
‘Don’t be absurd,’ the countess said, trying to calm herself. ‘It’s true Buck hurt me, but it was my fault. I never wanted to see him for what he is. A selfish man with no scruples or morals. Do you think you’re the first woman to fall for his lies?’
Ava’s curiosity was piqued and, if she dared admit it, she experienced a twinge of jealousy. ‘Who do you mean, your ladyship?’
‘Why, the infamous Lady Pennington of Mayfair,’ the countess said with a smugness that surprised Ava. As if she enjoyed taunting her with the woman’s name. ‘She is of no consequence as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Why would you bother with the likes of me over a highborn lady?’
‘It’s very simple, Ava,’ her ladyship said rather sharply. ‘Buck is in love with you.’
Shock ran through Ava with the same intensity as if the countess had told her she didn’t believe in God. It was one thing for Mr Brady to say such a thing, but the countess? Her heart accelerated, partly because she didn’t believe Buck loved her and partly because she did.
‘You’re not lying to me?’ she said, her voice hushed and reverent.
‘Why should I?’ the countess said, smiling. That innocent, ladylike smile Ava envied. ‘Even Trey noticed how Buck looks at you. He warned me you were trouble.’
‘Me, trouble?’ Ava said, her thoughts blurring. What did the countess know that she wasn’t telling her?
‘When you brought my gloves to me, I saw a hungry look on my fiancé’s face, a longing I’d never seen when he looked at me.’ She traced the brown and gold Spode pattern on her teacup with her fingertips. ‘After you left, Trey couldn’t stop chatting about you. How charming you were with your funny way of talking and how you weren’t afraid to speak your mind, not to mention your glossy red hair and good looks.’ Ava didn’t speak. Mr Brady’s opinion of her caught her off guard. Not the kind of talk from a man who only wanted to bed her. What was he about?
‘I suspected he might have a romantic interest in you,’ the countess continued. ‘He assured me he was simply admiring the local scenery, but he did admit to me that given the chance, any man would fall in love with you.’ Looking up from her teacup, she seemed to stare right through Ava. ‘When I returned to my stateroom and found you missing, I guessed where you’d gone.’
‘So you came looking for me.’
‘Yes. I thought I was over my feelings for Buck, that it didn’t matter any more, but when I saw the two of you together, I lost my temper. How could it be that you, a poor girl with no family, no background, could take the man I love away from me? While I, a peeress in my right, couldn’t make him fall in love with me no matter what I did? I have a title and lands, but they mean nothing next to a beautiful face and figure.’
‘You are a beautiful woman, Countess.’
‘Don’t try to humor me, Ava. It’s not becoming on you. I know what I am. Educated but plain, with a gift for romantic poetry but not for romancing a man.’ She paused, her frustration showing in the tiny lines appearing around her mouth. ‘Oh, why did I ever agree to this marriage? I could have remained a reclusive spinster and happily so with Buck at my side between love affairs if he hadn’t met you.’
Ava’s green eyes regained their usual sparkle.
‘This isn’t about me, your ladyship, it’s about you wanting to hurt Buck by denying him the one thing he wants. Me.’
The countess scoffed at that. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Is it?’ Ava demanded.
‘Yes. I love Buck—’
‘So do I, your ladyship. I would rather die than see anyone hurt him.’
A low, guttural moan erupted from the countess’s throat, as if Ava had ripped her soul to shreds. She had. She’d torn away the silken fabric that shielded Fiona from the vulgar in life and made her see the truth.
That her love for Buck was stronger than the countess’s.
This time she’d gone too far. The countess rose to her feet and slapped her across the face. Hard.
‘How dare you!’ she said.
Ava didn’t move. She stood there, bewildered. Her cheek stung from the blow, but she didn’t touch her face. She refused to show weakness in front of the woman.
‘You needn’t worry about me any more, your ladyship,’ Ava said, struggling to suppress a cold shiver that had come over her. ‘I can keep my mouth shut. I’ll do my job as I’m told and give you no more trouble. I promise.’ She started for the wardrobe. ‘I’ll set out your dressing gown—’
‘No.’
‘What?’ Ava turned, panicked.
‘Put on your dirty, old clothes and leave me alone,’ the countess moaned.
‘But, your ladyship…’ Ava looked at her, a sudden overwhelming fear stifling her movements.
‘Get out of my sight.’
Ava forced herself to ask, ‘Where will I go?’
‘Back where you belong. In steerage.’ The countess looked her up and down with a dismissive glance. ‘You’ll never be a lady’s maid, Ava, or a lady.’
‘I’m just as good as you and this Lady Pennington,’ Ava blurted out, getting her courage back. She was suddenly jealous of this other woman she’d never met. A woman whom Buck had once held in his arms. A woman he’d kissed.
‘Nonsense, Ava. You’ll never amount to anything.’
Ava pushed aside her anger, though she was hurting inside at the woman’s cruel words. She had to get the countess to change her mind.
Her life depended on it.
‘I beg you to think it over, your ladyship,’ she said. ‘The Titanic docks in three days. You’ll need me to help you unpack your bags.’
‘That’s already been taken care of,’ the countess said with confidence. ‘Trey wired his mother to find me a lady’s maid in New York.’
Ava squeezed her eyes tight in frustration. Mr Brady and his fine plans to have her spy on his mother. Now it was her undoing.
She had been sacked. The damage was done.
The countess put her finger on the call bell embedded into the bulkhead. ‘I’ll ring for the bedroom steward to take you back to third class.’
‘No, your ladyship,’ Ava cried, grabbing the woman’s arm so hard she ripped the shoulder seam open. ‘You can’t do that, please!’ Her desperate plea made her voice crack, her eyes tear. A cold shiver sliced through her as panic made her whole body stiffen. She couldn’t move.
‘You insolent girl!’
In a moment of fury, the countess tore open Ava’s stewardess uniform down the front, the black buttons popping off like tiny pieces of coal.
Ava stood dumbfounded. She couldn’t say a word.
‘Trey promised he’d find me a real lady’s maid,’ the countess said, not stopping to take a breath. ‘Not an Irish tramp.’
She could see the hurt and envy in her ladyship’s cold gray eyes. All her catty sarcasm and playfulness were gone now. Ava realized with a sense of dread the countess wanted her to strike back, to lower herself to the disgusting creature she had called her to assuage her own guilt.
She wouldn’t do it.
Her feeling of anger suddenly turned into a deeper and more immediate need not to let the woman take from her the one thing she had left.
Her pride.
Ava threw on her old tweed suit and grabbed her cloth traveling bag and her mother’s rosary, then raced out the cabin door and down the corridor with the countess’s threats still echoing in her ears.
‘You’ll not get the better of Ava O’Reilly,’ she whispered to herself through clenched teeth. ‘Not as long as I’m free.’
Dreaming of Captain Lord Blackthorn, Ava wandered up and down the labyrinth of long corridors of the great liner, holding on to her cloth traveling bag, skirting up the first-class stairs to B Deck, finding herself again marveling at the gracefully curving Grand Staircase with its oak paneling, gilded balustrades, and wide, sweeping steps.
Empty.
No one was about. Th
e memory of her dancing with Buck so vivid in her mind, she let out a deep sigh. His kisses exciting her. His touch electrifying her. Was it only a few hours ago she’d thrilled so to his touch?
Daydreaming like the sinner she was, wanting him to hold her again, the emotion building in her to such a degree she thought she’d die if she didn’t find him. She knew she shouldn’t dally like a schoolgirl tying a silk ribbon in her hair, but she couldn’t refuse her heart the sweet poignancy of this moment.
She couldn’t deny her love for him and the joy he’d given her.
In her confused state of mind, Ava found herself staring down a long corridor with its thick, deep red and gold carpeting and ornate white paneling. She felt as if she’d walked miles along the passageways, never passing the same way twice.
Nothing looked familiar to her. She must be headed the wrong way.
To clear her head and get her bearings, she raced up the stairway to the Boat Deck and sought the fresh sea air. She stared over the wooden railing on the first-class promenade, confused and heartsick.
Trying to decide what to do next when she heard—
‘Grab her!’ shouted a seaman, filling her with panic and sending her scurrying along the Boat Deck railing. Her hands slid over the wood wet with dewy spray. She nearly dropped her cloth traveling bag overboard when she lost her footing and slipped on the teak deck. She fell to one knee, her heart pounding and her legs heavy as she tried to get up. She couldn’t.
She grabbed onto the lower railing, when another seaman seized her under the armpits and dragged her to her feet.
‘A stowaway.’
‘Let me go!’ She could feel his heated breath against the back of her neck, but she defied him in spite of the cold night air nipping at her cheeks.
Oh, why had she dared to go up on the Boat Deck? Why, in the name of the Mother of God, had she been so foolish?
‘Let’s see what you look like, lass,’ the seaman said, curious. He released his hold on her.