And Adam... well, he might decide to stay in America, after this trip. Better to be far away from his misery.
Besides, Sarah was desperately in love with Raymond, wasn't she?
Chapter Six
For the first time since boarding the ship, Sarah's stomach threatened a major rebellion.
“I ate too much,” she muttered. After all, she'd eaten her own breakfast plus most of Adam's.
She climbed the stairs to an upper deck near the gymnasium and, leaning on the rail, stared at the fast-moving storm clouds on the horizon.
The sun peeked through the clouds for a moment, and then it was gone. It was a moment of brilliance, sparkling on the water, followed by somber tones.
A week from now, I'll be engaged, Sarah reminded herself. I should feel light and happy. This may be the most carefree time of my life.
“Raymond will be a fine husband,” she announced to a passing seagull.
All it did was flutter for a moment, looking for food.
Then, flying off, it let out a cry that – to Sarah's ears – sounded like “liar!”
Her stomach lurched again and she grasped the rail hard. “I will not be sick. I will not be sick,” she muttered, glancing to either side. If she were to be ill, she didn't want others to witness it.
The only other person on deck had emerged from a door near the middle of the ship, and – for a moment – Sarah didn't recognize him.
She blinked a few times as he approached.
“Raymond!” she shouted when he was close enough to hear her. “Are you feeling better?”
He smiled weakly as he reached her side. “For now, yes. Probably something I ate before the ship sailed.”
“And the swaying of the boat isn't helpful,” she agreed, swallowing hard. I will not be sick in front of Raymond, she told herself.
“Err... yes,” he agreed. “I'm sure you're right.”
She pointed at the horizon, “Storm clouds seem to be coming this way. So, things could get worse before they get better.”
I'm reduced to talking about the weather, she realized. This was not the kind of conversation she'd have with Adam.
Raymond nodded agreeably, and put his hand over hers.
It felt cold and clammy. Repulsive. Had his hands always felt like that? She couldn't recall him touching her, ever, until now.
Sarah tried to banish images of Raymond's unpleasant hands on her body on their wedding night, and perhaps every night after that.
She shuddered.
“Cold, dearest?” he asked.
Sarah nodded, shivering. “A little, but there's something refreshing about being outside. And those skies. Such somber tones, but magnificent, too.”
“As you say,” he replied vaguely, staring into the distance.
Adam would have offered her his coat, she realized. Maybe Raymond needed prompting.
“I should have worn my cloak,” she hinted. “The salt air is so bracing, I'm reluctant to go back indoors.”
“Of course,” Raymond muttered, continuing to stare into the distance.
Abandoning subtlety, Sarah hoped she sounded sweet or even timid as she prompted, “Could you lend me your coat, just for a few minutes?”
Raymond turned abruptly, blinked, and – after a moment of thought – chuckled. “Then I'd be chilled.”
Sarah stared at him.
He objected, “Well, that'd hardly be fair. After all, you're the one who came up to the deck without a proper cloak.”
For just a moment, she reflected on the many times Adam had given her his coat, when they were outside and the weather turned cold.
But she couldn't recall a single time when Raymond had.
She stared at the storm clouds, blinking hard.
If a wave had doused her with icy water, she couldn't have been more shocked. How had she never compared one brother to the other? And how could two men be so different?
She was sure her smile didn't reach her eyes as she forced a giggle and replied, “Of course, Raymond. You've always been so very practical.”
Raymond preened under the apparent compliment. “You should probably go back inside,” he said.
Sarah waited for him to offer her his arm, as her escort.
Instead, he turned back to the rail and stared into the distance again.
Sarah gave a mocking curtsey. She was certain he didn't notice it.
And then she walked away.
Is Raymond the future I want?, she wondered as she stepped through the door to the first class card room.
Thankfully, it was empty.
Inside, the air was warmer, but – for a moment – all Sarah felt was cold. Cold down to her soul as she thought of a lifetime with Raymond.
Of course, this was how families like hers arranged their lives. The eldest daughter of one landowner married the eldest son of the neighboring landowner. Their combined assets benefited everyone, and ensured the continuation of both families' wealth.
It may not be the “happily ever after” of fairy tales, but most couples seemed content.
Could Sarah settle for contentment? And really, had she looked more closely at Adam's habits, she might find him just as unappealing as Raymond... as a husband, anyway.
After all, that scene in the jewelry store had been a shock.
Adam, despite his choirboy appearance, must have a darker side Sarah had never noticed until now.
And Raymond... did he care at all? Or was this marriage just another financial transaction?
There was a time when she might have confided in Adam. He was always there for her. Always willing to listen, see her side of things, and give her good advice.
But now, something about seeing him buy jewelry for another woman, especially someone like Miss Finch... Sarah couldn't put her finger on why that bothered her so much. When the actress had broken off with Lord Portsford, was Adam the “lord waiting in the wings?”
Her head throbbed. Her heart ached.
Suddenly, nothing in her life made sense.
Perhaps a nap would help.
Chapter Seven
Sarah climbed into bed but sleep wouldn't come. Instead, she read one of Bram Stoker's romances, set in the American West. Sarah found herself identifying with the heroine, Esse. In the story, Esse was engaged to one man, but couldn't stop thinking of another.
But, while Stoker's fictional heroine found happiness with her fiance, Sarah wasn't confident of a similar outcome in real life.
In fact, by lunchtime, Sarah was thoroughly miserable. She didn't want to see Raymond, and she wasn't ready to see Adam, either. Not yet.
When Emma returned to dress for lunch, Sarah explained she'd decided to dine in their cabin.
“Feeling poorly?” Emma asked. “I seem to have recovered, but quite a few passengers looked positively green. They say this weather could last overnight, or longer.”
Sarah nodded. “I saw the approaching clouds when I was up on the deck. They were somber and magnificent, in a way.”
Emma's eyebrows shot up. “You were on deck? Did you see Raymond? He was talking about the clouds. In fact, he used the exact same words.”
Sarah sighed. Of course he did. Did he ever have an original thought?
Emma continued, “Clearly, you two think alike. You know, I never considered that. Perhaps I've been wrong. Maybe you belong together, after all.”
Was Emma serious? Sarah hoped not. Her sister had been her trusted confidante all these years. If anyone knew how Sarah felt about Raymond, it was Emma.
“Oh, dearest, I'm sorry,” Emma said, tucking a handkerchief into her purse. “Here you are, trying to get some rest, and I'm chattering away.”
At the door, she paused. “Do you think you'll feel well enough for the dinner and dance, tonight?”
“By then, I'm sure I'll be fine,” Sarah lied. All she really wanted to do was stay in their cabin for the rest of the voyage, and sort out what to do about Raymond.
Remembering how his
hand felt, on hers... it was disgusting. The prospect of kissing him was even less appealing.
Why didn't I think of this sooner? she wondered. Now, well... there was no way she could marry Raymond. But how to get out of it, with him sailing to America just to get her father's approval?
Her best hope was that, once again, Raymond would decide he wasn't quite ready for marriage, and postpone the formalities.
Then... well, Sarah would think about that later.
As Emma left, Sarah stared at the words on the page in front of her, but all she could think was how powerless she felt.
She put down her book, pulled up the covers, and stared at the ceiling.
It was one thing to feel betrayed by Raymond. That had been a running theme for as long as she could recall.
But Adam... that was a fresh wound.
Why should I care if he's distracted by another woman? Or even if he's fallen for her? After all, we're just friends.
Sarah turned onto her side, pulled the covers tightly up to her chin, and closed her eyes. But all she could think about was Adam.
I'm just being protective of him. Like a brother.
She shook her head and imagined herself in Pride and Prejudice. She did her best to cast Adam in the Bingley role, and Raymond as Darcy.
After all, through much of that story, Bingley had been endearingly naive. And Darcy had been, frankly, obnoxious.
Content with that imagery, Sarah drifted off to sleep. But in her dreams, Adam became Darcy, and – for some reason – Sarah didn't mind at all.
The cabin was dark when Emma woke her.
Emma turned on the light. “Wake up, sleepy head! I guess you really needed that nap.”
Sarah covered her eyes with one hand, and then peered between two fingers. “What time is it?”
“Dinner will be in half an hour. Get your gown on, and I'll fix your hair. It looks like you've stood on the deck in the storm. At least half your pins have fallen out, and your curls...”
Sarah sat up and grabbed the hand mirror from the nightstand. “You're right. I look like a banshee. I'll never win Adam back, looking like this.”
Emma's mouth dropped open. “You said Adam.”
Sarah inhaled sharply. “I meant Raymond, of course. I'm still groggy from my nap. We both know there's always another woman with Raymond.”
Emma handed Sarah her robe. “I thought this trip meant he'd turned over a new leaf. Isn't this about him finally settling down?”
Standing and wrapping the pink satin robe around her, Sarah sighed. “Well, yes, I hope it's about settling down, and not just 'settling', if you get my meaning.”
“I'm sorry. I'd swap places with you if I could.”
Sarah gave her a hug. “I know, and that's sweet of you to say. But we both know how Raymond is. And our engagement has been assumed since... well, forever. It's what women like us do, isn't it.”
Emma shook her head. “Had we been born in lesser circumstances, perhaps you could have married for love.”
“Perhaps, but you're starting to sound like a Suffragette.”
Emma chuckled, “Well, yes, I do believe women deserve a voice, but let's not talk politics. Not tonight.”
Sarah almost wished they might. She didn't want to think about a loveless marriage. Not now. Possibly not ever.
Emma grinned. “Look at it this way. At least Raymond is young. You're not being married to some old codger. And, in time, maybe your feelings will change. You might even fall in love with him.”
Sarah tried to imagine that, and failed. “I might. But, after all these years, I'm not sure Raymond will ever be the kind of husband I'd choose.”
Emma walked over to Sarah and patted her shoulder. “It'll all work out. Things always do... right?”
Sarah shrugged and did her best to sound cheerful. “I'd better get ready for dinner. I won't make much of an entrance looking like this.”
After a flurry of activity and a few miracles worked by Emma to tame Sarah's hair into silky curls, the sisters entered the dining room.
The room was decked in streamers and lit by what looked like a thousand candles. It was dazzling.
Sarah decided that, no matter what, she was going to enjoy this evening.
The seating plan putAdam on one side of her and Raymond on the other. Their joviality seemed forced, and Adam avoided her gaze.
Sarah tried leaning back to get Emma's attention, but her sister seemed wholly focused on the man across the table from her. Over the music, Sarah barely caught a word.
Meanwhile, Adam and Raymond discussed the price of sugar and the merits of a certain racehorse.
Feeling completely neglected, Sarah sipped her wine.
Tonight, it seemed especially good. Or perhaps she was especially thirsty after her nap.
Either way, she didn't mind when the ship's steward approached the table. He apologized that the captain had been delayed, and placed several more bottles of the ship's best vintage on the table, almost directly in front of Sarah.
By the time the captain arrived, Sarah felt more relaxed than she had since... well, she couldn't recall feeling this good in a very long time.
Dinner was delicious. Oysters, salad, filet mignon, and – of course – several glasses of red wine. Then some sort of chicken in a French sauce, accompanied by a white wine. Dessert included eclairs and French ice cream, and a liqueur that tasted like chocolate.
By the time the floor was cleared for dancing, Sarah struggled to stay awake.
Then, recalling Emma's comments about suffrage and women having a voice, Sarah boldly asked Adam to dance.
She gave Raymond a quick side glance. That'll show Raymond how it feels, to be overlooked.
But, to her dismay, he didn't seem to care. Or perhaps he hadn't heard her ask Adam to dance.
By contrast, Adam seemed almost alarmed. He whispered, “Raymond should have the first dance with you.”
“Yes, but why? I haven't been first in his life... maybe ever.”
She was certain she was whispering too loudly, and after all that wine, her words were somewhat slurred. In a lower whisper, they might have run together like one long hiss.
Adam cast a sharp glance over her head and raised his eyebrows, but if Raymond saw the look, he didn't react.
What, Adam doesn't want to dance with me? He wants Raymond to step in? She turned just enough to see Raymond swing his gaze away from her.
Ha! As if Raymond cares. As if he's ever cared.
Adam sighed and took Sarah's hand, steadying her as she rose from her chair.
On the floor, Sarah felt more graceful than she'd ever been, before. In fact, it was as if she were floating across the floor, drifting in rhythm to the music, with one hand on Adam's shoulder and the other held firmly in his grip.
Before she knew it, she was at the side of the hall, and Adam had stopped dancing.
As he stepped back from her, he sighed, “Sarah, you're tipsy. There's no other word for it. Perhaps you should go back to your room and get some rest?”
Sarah pouted. “I am no such thing. Just a little more... mellow, I guess. And I had a nap this afternoon. Maybe... maybe we could go back out to the deck. Maybe it's a full moon?”
Adam took a few steps to the side and looked out the nearest window. “Yes, that's a good idea. The storm seems to have moved on. Fresh air might be exactly what you need. I'll just slip back to our table and get your shawl.”
Leaning against the wall, Sarah noted the arrival of Miss Finch at the front of the stage. Then, as the actress started singing, it wasn't one of her finer nights. Her voice seemed shrill. Angry. Accusative.
It took Sarah a couple of minutes to realize Miss Finch was attempting the betrayal song from the new Italian opera, Tosca.
“Uh-oh,” Adam muttered, urging Sarah towards the nearest door. “This may be a performance best avoided. Fresh air is definitely our best option.”
As the couple left the dining room, Sarah glanced back and
saw Miss Finch standing directly in front of the captain's table.
Was that a command performance, or did Miss Finch have another reason for almost shouting the lyrics at the captain's guests, especially Raymond?
Chapter Eight
After a few minutes outside in the bracing winds, Sarah began to recover her senses.
“Oh my,” she apologized. “The wine went straight to my head.”
Adam grinned. “I'd noticed.”
“Did I say anything truly awful?”
“Aside from asking me to dance, when your escort was Raymond? No, not really.”
Sarah wasn't sure if Adam could see her blushing in the moonlight, as clouds quickly turned the deck almost fully dark.
Adam chuckled, “Besides, your words were so slurred, I'm not sure anyone besides me had any idea what you were saying.”
“Not even Raymond?”
“Especially not Raymond. I think he's had a slight relapse. He seemed out of sorts tonight. Lost in thought, or maybe just feeling poorly.”
A gust of wind swept across the deck, and several of Sarah's hairpins flew out. She lifted her hand and tried to tuck her curls back in place, but her efforts failed.
Adam reached for her hand and drew it towards him. “Leave it alone. I like your hair a little wild.”
A cloud-like fog drifted in, so – for that moment – all Sarah could see was Adam, and only because he was standing so close to her.
Sarah swayed a little, almost overcome by a wave of emotion and the depth of expression in his eyes.
“Hold me closer,” she said. “The wine... I must be feeling the effects again.”
As he wrapped his arms around her, she tilted up her chin and looked at his lips. A kiss seemed inevitable.
And then, a crackle of applause reached them.
Adam's hands froze and then, almost with a jerk, he released Sarah. “I guess the dinner show is over.”
Sarah, instantly uncomfortable, nodded. What almost happened? I'm promised to Raymond.
She blushed and gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Sorry. I think the wine got to me.”
Adam took her arm in a brotherly fashion, and escorted her back to the dining room. “Think nothing of it. I think the wine affected me, as well.”
The Elusive Earl (Love At Sea Book 2) Page 3