Rescued by the Viscount's Ring

by Carol Arens

  To her dying day she would hold dear last night’s sunset and the kiss. For all that the kiss had been brief, it had been—what?

  Exciting? Certainly that. She had felt the frisson to her toes and back.

  Unexpected? Yes, but oddly natural—as if—oh, she was not quite sure what.

  An invitation? Clearly that. He wanted to know her more intimately than he already did. She should not want that. It would only make matters more difficult when they parted ways.

  And yet she did want it. There was a secret place in her heart where she saw herself crossing her fingers, wishing on clover and pixie dust, that there was no sweetheart who would be crushed at the news of his sudden marriage.

  She would have to try very hard not to let that impulsive side of her nature get the upper hand. For most of her life it had only led to fun—until the day it led to Bertrand Fenster.

  From now on she would act with logic, think logical thoughts. She would be proper and—She touched the sleeve of the red flannel shirt, breathed in the scent of the man it belonged to. The man she belonged to.

  It was going to take some doing to put away dreamy images of the sunset—the kiss.

  The doorknob turned.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  Rees came into the cabin, smiling. His amazingly blue eyes crinkled at the corners. Warmth washed all through her because it seemed he saw past the surface of her, all the way to her soul.

  She wondered if he looked at everyone that way or was it unique to her?

  Oh, good glory! What was she to do?

  She had never, ever been a logical person. What insanity made her think she could become one today?

  ‘Better.’ She had to return his smile. There was no way not to. It sprang from her heart naturally.

  His mouth tweaked up on one side and he winked. She thought so, anyway, but he used both eyes, so she was not sure. Whatever, it was endearing.

  She ought not to feel endeared to him, but the injudicious girl in her heart that she tried to keep repressed picked up her skirt and was dancing a merry jig. What was wrong with her? Had she no common sense?

  A three-month marriage was all this was. A temporary alliance.

  ‘Here, this is for you.’

  He handed her a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. How had she not noticed it tucked under his arm when he came in?

  His big, masculine presence in this small room had overcome her, that was why.

  She reminded herself to be logical. Yes, diligent in her pursuit of sound judgement.

  She untied the scratchy twine and opened the paper.

  ‘Oh! It’s wonderful! Where on earth did you get it?’

  There must be a store aboard ship where one could purchase a soft wool gown and pretty little boots to match.

  ‘I met a woman with an extra one.’

  ‘It looks brand new.’

  ‘Lightly used, I imagine.’ He sat down beside her on the bed since there really was no place else to sit in the small space. ‘But the shoes are new.’

  ‘I wonder if they will fit.’ She ran her fingers over the wool. It was a wonder that he had found a woman in steerage with such a fine garment—and that she had been willing to part with it.

  ‘It will, as soon as you have gained some weight back.’

  That might be a while. She was only now beginning to feel like eating.

  ‘How did you know my size?’ she said, lifting the garment up and thinking it would be perfect.

  ‘I’ve good reason to know it.’ This time his odd wink made her blush, or maybe not the wink, but his intimate knowledge of her size and shape, of the way it made his eyes spark before and after the wink. ‘Mrs Dalton.’

  ‘I’ll keep a tab of what you spend and when we find my grandfather I will pay you back everything.’ Every single penny.

  ‘You will not.’ It was a wonder how a frown could look compelling rather than stern. She was far too fascinated by it. ‘Now, put it on and we will go to the dining room.’

  Put it on here? With only inches between them? He might be her husband in name, but—oh, more than that, given what had passed between them. But she did not recall the event, so how could she simply take off his shirt and put on the gown?

  ‘I cannot. I’ve no underclothes.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I’ll bring dinner in.’ He shrugged one shoulder. ‘No matter. I like the way my shirt looks on you. I won’t mind seeing it for a little while longer.’

  Madeline knew when she was being flirted with. She had been repelling such advances since she was sixteen years old, for mercy’s sake.

  Oddly, she did not feel like repelling this one, for all that it was the very one she ought to.

  She did believe in marriage being sacred and binding. That was why she must resist this sham union so that when the real one came to be, she could give all of herself to it. Tender reminders of this one would only cast a shadow on her lifelong love.

  A lifelong love who would be more—well, more everything—than this man was?

  As it was, she feared she was going to remember the sunset kiss at inappropriate times.

  ‘I’m sure you want it back,’ she said. Mischief lurked in the corners of his smile, so evidently he was not at all anxious for the shirt’s return. ‘And I will feel much less an invalid when I am properly dressed.’

  ‘Yes.’ He tugged playfully on her shirt collar, then stood up. ‘I imagine you will.’

  With that, he went out the door.

  He might or might not come back with food. Since he hadn’t taken the time to clean up, she wondered if he would even be permitted into the dining room. Even steerage had cleanliness standards.

  Rees Dalton had the look of a man working hard all day long—and the scent of one.

  She really, truly, needed to stop dwelling on the way he smelled.

  It would take great concentration since she had never met anyone with such a manly scent. All the fellows she had ever met had been gentlemen.

  Men of leisure, or of business, they were far different. With their smooth hands and finely tailored clothing, they smelled like Eau de Cologne Russe, which was used by women as well as men, so it hardly made one’s heart beat oddly.

  She stared at the closed door, sighing.

  The man she had married made her heart beat oddly.

  * * *

  Rees was gone longer than he expected to be.

  While his order to Captain Collier to arrange for two first-class meals was well met, his instruction to procure finely tailored ladies’ undergarments was not.

  It was not as though Rees could do it himself—not without jeopardising his disguise as a common man.

  But, damn it, he would not give his wife less than the best.

  An attitude which was not without risk. She had recognised the worth of the wool gown he had given her. Had she worked as a seamstress, perhaps? Or a lady’s maid?

  If she agreed to remain with him, share his life after the three months, there would be much she would need to learn about society and its ways.

  Playing the role of Viscountess was something most women spent their whole lives being educated for. He wondered if she would even be willing to learn.

  He prayed so. He had offered the annulment because he needed her to agree to the marriage. To his mind, the vows he had spoken were not merely words. The intention was for a lifetime, every syllable bound in honour.

  Even if that belief did not go bone deep in him, there was another reason he needed to avoid the annulment.

  His sweet little girls. They wanted and deserved a mother. He could hardly allow them to become attached to Madeline only to have her leave. A mother was someone who stood by one’s side one’s whole life no matter the trouble they got themselves into.

  Th
ere was also the matter of Wilson and Bethany Mosemore to be attended to. It was imperative that they be married while Rees still was. Langerby was an unpleasant old coot and might find a way to cause mischief if Rees was suddenly unmarried again.

  Those three issues were important. But there was another.

  When he’d held Madeline on the deck at sunset, all wrapped in the blanket, something inside him had—surged—that was the best he could explain it. His heart had taken a sudden leap, both the heart that pumped his blood and the one that swelled his soul.

  He could not explain why it should be so since he barely knew her. The mother of his children had never caused that reaction in him, or if she had it was to a much milder degree.

  There was much he did not know when it came to his new wife, but the one thing he did know was that not only did he need to keep her—he wanted to.

  With dinner and package in hand he entered his cramped quarters to find her standing at the wash basin scrubbing her face with a wet towel. Her legs would be shapely once she gained some of the weight she had lost.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. The part of her face not covered by the cloth flushed bright pink. He could not tell whether she was smiling or grimacing behind it.

  Once he got to know her better, her expressions would become second nature to him, but for now he was left to wonder.

  ‘I’ve brought dinner and...’ He nodded at the crudely wrapped package tucked under his arm. ‘...the rest of what you need.’

  ‘Oh, well, thank you.’ She slid it from under his arm gingerly with two fingers, as if she thought the contents might explode.

  The Captain, still red-faced when he’d handed them over to Rees, had purchased them from a newly wedded countess on her honeymoon. She’d had no trouble parting with the garments since she possessed a larger trousseau than she could possibly wear. Also the Captain had told him that Lady Ambry had been touched by the story of a new bride with nothing to wear. Indeed, the kind lady had even included a nightgown and slippers.

  All the way back from the Captain’s quarters Rees had been trying to work out how to explain how he had obtained the ‘above-his-station’ garments. But again, he would give his bride nothing less than what she was due as Lady Glenbrook.

  For all that she did not know who she was.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You can change while I wash my hands. Then we will eat.’

  She went still, clutched the package to her chest while glancing about with a frown dipping her delicate brows.

  Of course she would be shy about dressing in the same space as him.

  ‘It’s all right.’ He picked up a towel and draped it over the mirror. ‘I will not look back until you say to.’

  She nodded, her lips pressed in a tight, tense-looking line.

  Scrubbing his face, he listened to the sounds behind him: ripping paper, her gasp of surprise and the shifting of delicate cloth. Oddly, this was one of the most intimate moments he had ever spent with a woman.

  The fact that she trusted him enough to keep his word, to not turn to peek, made his heart swell and give a hopeful little dance.

  Then again, it could be that it was not trust as much as the fact that she had no choice in the matter.

  Damn it, he was choosing to believe she trusted him.

  ‘They are very nice, although I can scarce believe I am discussing undergarments with a man—I hope they did not cost you a month’s wages.’

  ‘I have a bit of money saved.’ More than a bit—he just could not admit how much at this point. ‘Those were left behind in the ship’s lost-items closet, so they did not come at a dear price.’

  While he did not turn to look at her, he fully enjoyed listening to the sounds of dressing going on behind him, seeing it in his mind’s eye. He had never promised to close that eye—as if he could.

  First came the slide of his flannel shirt, scraping over soft skin, then the soft thump when it hit the mattress.

  She would be standing behind him with nothing on. He had to dig his fingers into the cloth rag. It was a good thing she did not know how hard an internal battle he was fighting.

  He needed her to trust him if there was any hope of her remaining Lady Glenbrook. Of course, the fact that he had not been truthful about who he was would complicate things. He could not keep the truth from her for ever—or even another couple of weeks.

  Instinct told him he could probably trust her with the knowledge, but for a while longer he thought it best to remain Rees Dalton, seaman. Better he wait with the news until he knew why she did not wish to be wed to a peer.

  He heard her feet shuffle, the soft glide of fabric up her leg when she stepped into the drawers.

  His knees nearly buckled at her sigh of pleasure. The effect on him was more intense because she tried to conceal it.

  Truly, if he had it to do over again, he would wait on deck while she changed.

  ‘“What shall we do with the drunken sailor?”’ he sang softly, because if he heard that lovely sigh again it might be his undoing. ‘“Early in the morning!”’

  ‘“Hooray and up she rises.”’ Her voice joined his. ‘“Early in the morning.”’

  Then she laughed and it undid him more than the sigh had.

  He was a lost man. He liked his wife and he feared her in a sense because he had a suspicion she was the kind of woman a man could fall in love with and in a very short time.

  The fact that they were married, would spend a great deal of intimate time together, increased the likelihood.

  It was odd to feel such deep affection before one was actually acquainted with one’s wife. He had not felt such tenderness for Margaret until six months into the marriage. But then, she had been a very private person and had taken a long time, along with a great deal of consideration, before she opened herself to him.

  He did not recall an instance when they had sung together.

  ‘You may take the towel off the mirror now.’

  He did, seeing her smiling face reflected behind his. Lord help him, his grin appeared utterly besotted.

  Was he not more sensible than to fall headlong into the unknown?

  Apparently not. He had the oddest sensation of tumbling through space and time.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Dalton. Somehow clothes make me feel human again and a bit hungry.’

  ‘Will you call me Rees? Mr Dalton seems rather stiff.’

  ‘I hoped you would let me. It is a very nice name. Rees.’

  ‘I’ve called you Madeline already. May I continue? It’s very lovely.’

  ‘Of course. I would like to think we will become friends. Using our Christian names will help make it so, I think.’

  She sat down on the bed, then patted the spot beside her. ‘Shall we eat our dinner, Rees?’

  Sitting hip to hip on a small bed with Margaret and sharing a meal was another thing he had never done. If he had, it might not have taken so long to get to know her.

  That was one mistake he would not make again. He would take every moment he could to learn about his new wife. With Margaret, he had expected to have a lifetime to do so, but a tragic childbirth changed it all very suddenly.

  With Madeline, he understood from the beginning that he only had a few months.

  ‘It’s good to see your appetite improving.’

  ‘I can truly say that I have never tasted a better egg in my life.’

  ‘It’s only boiled. I thought it might be easier on your stomach.’

  He could hardly tell her it was a first-class egg so perhaps it made a difference. If he could say that, she would probably laugh and then he would laugh with her.

  Laughing with this woman was something he thought he would enjoy for a lifetime. Too bad he had made that blamed promise.

  ‘Are you always so thoughtful? I think you have
done far and away more than you needed to do for me. There are men who would not.’

  He noticed the shadow that crossed her eyes, the very slight dimming of her smile.

  ‘Are you speaking of the fellow who was following you before you boarded the ship?’

  ‘Bertrand? How could you possibly know about him?’

  ‘I’ll confess, when I pointed you towards the dining room, it was not the first time I had noticed you.’

  ‘Really, when was?’

  She looked so puzzled that he wanted to use his thumb to smooth away the frown line creasing her forehead.

  Instead he popped the egg into his mouth whole.

  After he gathered his thoughts during a long chew, determined that the truth was the best way to proceed, he said, ‘I was watching through a spyglass when you were boarding. I saw a man crouching behind a barrel and staring at you. I assume he was Bertrand?’

  ‘Yes—Bertrand Fenster—and a more depraved fellow you will not meet. I will say, had I known you were watching it would have been a relief. Not that you could have helped me at all, you being on the ship and me on the dock—but still, it would have.’ She tipped her head to the side, considered him with those cornflower-blue eyes. ‘How is it you came to be on deck with a spyglass, Rees? I would expect you would be needed below to get the ship moving. You shovel coal into the furnace, isn’t that so? You are a fireman?’

  ‘Yes.’ It was not quite a lie because in the moment it was his occupation. It did trouble him to keep the full truth from her, but for now it might be best.

  Each hour that he spent with her made him believe she was discreet, someone who knew how to keep a secret. But if he was wrong in his assessment, he would no longer be able to work in secret. Lord Glenbrook would never learn all that Mr Dalton would be privy to.

  The men he had hired to help him might learn something, but in the end, it was his responsibility to see to the success of his new business. It might be his shining trait of character, the ability to take charge of a situation and see it to a good outcome.