Rescued by the Viscount's Ring

by Carol Arens

  Misfortune? Or was it a great gift?

  Confusion was what it was. Life could not possibly take such a sharp turn and be on the right path.

  Unless the sharp turn had been not so sharp. Maybe it had been arranged by a Higher Power from the very beginning. It would be a comfort to think so, make her choice easier.

  At the same time, it could be wishful thinking.

  And if it was wishful thinking, it meant she wished to remain with her groom.

  Their marriage was new enough for him to still be a groom.

  Groom. She bit her lips thinking about that because in her mind the word suggested something more intimate than new husband did.

  Something that went deeper than the kisses they indulged in.

  Fascinating possibilities drifted across her mind. She ought not to be entertaining them while in the presence of a child.

  ‘Mrs Dalton.’ Tears gathered in the woman’s eyes. ‘What you did for my family—I have no words to thank you.’

  ‘It’s no more than anyone would have done.’ At least Madeline liked to think so.

  ‘No, my dear. What you did was uncommon. I feel wretched when I think of what it cost you. Had you not given me your ticket, you would have had a room and not been caught out in the storm. You would not have had to marry the way you did. Why, a pretty young lady like you ought to have your pick of men.’

  Was that not what she intended when she went away with Bertrand? Having her pick?

  Well, she had picked and picked wrongly. Her poor decision had caused her to be separated from Grandfather and Clementine. By making that choice she had very likely taken it away from her cousin.

  Running away from a problem had worse consequences than she would have imagined.

  This stranger thought her to be a good person. She was far from it.

  For all Madeline knew, Clementine cried herself to sleep every night while hugging the corner of the bed, putting as much distance between her and the Earl as possible.

  Not so Madeline. She who had caused the trouble invited her husband to share a bed—was looking forward to tonight to see if he would.

  ‘Clara, run to the cabin and get the project I have been working on.’

  ‘Yes, Mama.’ Clara grinned, winked, then dashed away.

  ‘My name is Martha, by the by. Since you were travelling alone, might I assume you need the guidance of one long married? I’m certain your mother would speak to you of being newly wed were she here with you.’

  ‘My mother’s name was also Martha. But she died when I was very small.’

  ‘You poor dear.’ Martha reached across the table and squeezed her hand. ‘Will you be living in Liverpool? Perhaps we can remain in touch with each other. A new bride should not be without someone to confide in.’

  ‘My husband has a place in Liverpool. But I don’t know how long I will be—’

  In the instant Clara rushed back into the dining room with something tucked under her arm. She handed it to her mother.

  ‘This is for you.’ Martha opened a shawl for her inspection. ‘I made it for you as a thank you. It’s rather feeble as a thank you goes. I’m only glad I met you again before Liverpool so that I might give it to you.’

  Madeline wrapped it about her shoulders.

  There was nothing feeble about the shawl. It was beautiful, knit in shades of blue and tan. The fact that Martha had made it with her own hands made it feel more like a hug than yarn.

  ‘I can’t even—’ Her throat clogged with tears. It was amazing that a stranger would be so kind to her. She found people to be that way—kind for the most part. She had rarely met a person who did not quickly become a friend.

  Rees had become that and more swiftly than made sense. The more time she spent with him, the more time she longed to.

  ‘I do thank you for this,’ she said, stroking the fine stitches. ‘I will always cherish it, Martha.’

  She stood, picked up Rees’s coat and the food for his dinner. ‘Perhaps I will see you again before we make land.’

  ‘And after, my dear. If you need anything at all, our family name is Adlebackmore. Liverpool is a large city, but it’s an odd name. I hope we can find each other.’

  Madeline hurried along the deck, grateful that she was, at last, able to move swiftly. She would never take good health for granted again.

  Things were looking much more hopeful. When she had boarded the ship she had been utterly alone. Only a week later she had a friend.

  And a husband.

  She had but to accept what he offered.

  Oh, but did she dare to? What if she found she had made a mistake the same way she had before? What if she ran away from it?

  She would feel the most unworthy of souls.

  * * *

  Rees lingered a few moments at his post even though one of the men he’d hired to help watch stood by waiting to take over the shift.

  The fellow was competent, but even so, it was difficult for Rees to hand over the watch.

  ‘I’m ill at ease with the worker at the third furnace down, Mr Hayes.’

  ‘I agree. I’ve noticed that he’s different than the others. He’s a shifty one, at best. Won’t look anyone in the eye, I’ve noticed.’

  ‘You’ll recall what I said about him smelling of spirits?’

  ‘Aye, yes, I’ll keep it in mind. If he is up to no good, I’ll know it soon enough, Lord Glenbrook,’ he whispered.

  ‘I thank you, Hayes.’

  Hayes nodded, cast a severe glance at the suspected derelict. Rees knew he was leaving the watch in good hands.

  Tired to the bone and hungry as a fiend, Rees trudged up two flights of stairs, then walked the length of the deck to his cabin.

  Every step was an effort. He wanted his bed, not that he would be sleeping overmuch.

  The worrisome fact that there might be a problem in the fire room was not all that was going to keep him from his rest.

  His lovely legally wed bride, whom he wanted to be his in more than name alone, had invited him to share the bed. She might not intend all that came with it. Chances were Madeline had no idea that the things entertaining his mind even existed.

  Damn it! In his mind they would need to remain. He could not indulge in the smallest of them. Not until he was honest with her about everything.

  Opening the cabin door, he was greeted with the scent of burned something or other.

  ‘It’s your dinner—or it was.’ Madeline shook her head, her mouth puckered in a grimace. Funny, how even her frown was endearing. No matter how she tried, the gesture did not appear stern. ‘I’ll admit, I’ve never been called upon to prepare a meal.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s wonderful.’ Or was at one time.

  ‘I scooped off the top of the stew. It’s only the bottom of the pot ruined. The bread and cheese are edible.’

  He washed, then sat on the bed, it being the only place to sit other than the floor. He’d had quite enough of floors for a lifetime.

  Even so, he might lie there again tonight. His options were to tell the truth and maybe share the bed or continue to lie and sleep on the floor.

  Or, in the event he confessed, spend the night in the lifeboat. There was no reason to believe she would forgive him just because he finally told the truth.

  She set a tray on his lap, then settled beside him.

  ‘I don’t suppose it will make you sick.’

  ‘Are you going to eat?’

  ‘I filled up with cheese and bread before you came home.’

  Home? What a wonderful sentiment. She called this dreary little space home and with those words it seemed to become one. Not because of the walls, but because she shared them with him.

  ‘I didn’t spend all your money.’ She nodded towards the table beside the basin. ‘I put what remains over
there.’

  ‘It’s yours. There’s a woman selling goods for ladies. Please buy whatever you want to.’

  ‘That’s generous of you, Rees. But I know how hard you work. I would feel wicked being frivolous with your money.’ She hugged a shawl around her shoulders. ‘You should spend it on your children.’

  Now would be the time to admit he spent a great deal of money on his children—as Viscount Glenbrook would have the privilege of doing.

  It was far past the time he opened up. Fear of her reaction at discovering he had lied kept him from it. She thought him to be an honest man and nothing could be more wrong.

  In the beginning he had had good intentions in keeping the truth to himself—fearing she would not keep his secret and all that rot. Now he knew it was nonsense.

  She was completely reliable and clearly she valued truth much more than he did.

  ‘I have something to tell you.’ He felt the words on his tongue, but they seemed to be glued there.

  Even his twin girls, who were barely more than babes, knew there were consequences to lying.

  ‘That’s a pretty shawl,’ he said in a cowardly sidestep. ‘I’m glad you purchased something.’

  ‘It was a gift.’ She stroked the blue yarn. ‘From the woman I gave my ticket to.’

  ‘It matches your eyes.’

  ‘I was thinking that it matched yours.’ She hugged the shawl tighter about her. ‘Does that taste all right? Don’t feel you have to eat it. There’s plenty of bread and the cheese is delicious.’

  ‘I’m hungry enough that anything will taste delicious.’

  ‘Is your mother a good cook?’

  Such a simple question, yet he found himself in a tight corner. Mother had never as much as boiled water. With the kind of life he claimed to live, cooking would be a required skill.

  ‘Not very,’ he answered vaguely. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘I’m feeling much better—stronger and hungrier.’

  He memorised the curve of her smile. He’d come to crave seeing it—would, in fact, rather see it than a spectacular sunrise over the Atlantic.

  ‘And curious,’ she added.

  ‘Curious about what?’

  ‘About you and your life.’ She shrugged. ‘We are considering spending a lifetime together, yet I know less about you than you know about me. It’s an odd situation, you must admit.’

  ‘For some levels of society, it’s common.’

  ‘Yes, and I’m worried that I might have forced my cousin into one of those marriages.’

  ‘If she is anything like you, she will have refused to wed where she did not wish.’

  ‘Oh, but she is nothing like me.’ She shook her head. ‘Clementine is level-headed and loyal. She would not betray Grandfather the way I did.’

  ‘I’m certain that in spite of everything they love you.’ He set the bowl of burned stew on the floor. A lock of golden hair trickled across her face. He stroked it behind her ear, making sure his fingers brushed her cheek. ‘Love can forgive anything, don’t you think?’

  Yes—please let her answer be yes.

  ‘I hope so. I’ll need it, don’t you think? When it comes time to beg it of Grandfather. Of course, that makes me something of a hypocrite because when it comes to forgiving and forgetting Bertrand, I’m not so sure I can let bygones be bygones, as I ought to.’

  ‘That man is your past. I’m sure in time what he did will not sting so badly.’

  ‘It doesn’t sting now. It only shames me that I did not recognise his false character from the beginning. He lied so gracefully. It is a fortunate thing I figured him out before it was too late. Can you imagine being bound to a liar all your life?’

  ‘I—well—no. It would be unpleasant.’

  ‘Unpleasant? It would be far worse than that! One would always need to be on guard to make sure one was not being duped.’

  He was doomed—damned if he told the truth and damned if he did not. He feared that if he carried on this conversation any longer he would—Damn it, he did not know what he would do, but it wasn’t good.

  ‘Don’t worry, my angel. We will find your family and they will welcome you.’

  ‘Do you really think so or are you trying to make me feel better?’

  ‘I’m a strong believer in forgiveness. So, yes, I do.’

  ‘I hope you are right.’ Her smile returned.

  He’d heard of hearts melting. Until this moment he hadn’t believed one could have a warm puddle simmering in one’s chest and yet he did.

  ‘Now,’ she said. ‘Since we have a long evening in this little cabin, I’d like to hear about your family. Is it only your children and your mother?’

  At some point she was going to ask him something he could not answer.

  Had he not fallen in love with his bride—and he might as well face the truth of it that he had—he would blurt out everything and consequences be damned. If she left him, he would quickly recover.

  But he was in love and he would not quickly recover.

  ‘I have a brother. He is only a year younger than I am.’

  ‘Does he also live in Liverpool?’

  ‘No, Derbyshire.’ All of this was gospel.

  ‘But your mother lives with you. Is she a widow, then?’

  ‘My father died when I was a small boy.’ Too small a boy. It seemed to Rees he had been Glenbrook most of his life.

  ‘We have that in common, then.’

  Shyly, she brushed the backs of her fingers against his hand. He needed no more invitation than that to fold them up in his palm.

  ‘I’m glad we have this time to get to know one another,’ she said. ‘Since we are considering remaining together, we should be well acquainted before we make a hard-and-fast choice. Don’t you think so?’

  ‘I do.’ Getting to know her better occupied a great deal of his attention. ‘For instance, I’d like to become more acquainted with your lips.’

  ‘My lips?’

  He nodded, traced the shape of them with his thumb.

  ‘Ah, well, they are ordinary lips. They enjoy smiling, speaking, laughing and eating. They are much the same as any others.’

  ‘I think they are not, but what I wonder most is if they enjoy kissing.’

  ‘They have not had a great deal of experience in that, but—’ She stared at him silently for what seemed a very long time. ‘But they do enjoy kissing you. They enjoy it beyond what is wise.’

  ‘Why is it not wise? We are married.’

  ‘In an odd sense we are.’

  ‘We spoke vows like anyone else.’

  ‘I have a feeling the vows you spoke with your late wife were nothing like ours were.’

  Madeline was correct. His first wedding had been an elegant society event with hundreds of guests in attendance.

  He nodded. ‘And yet I knew less of Margaret on our wedding day than I did of you.’

  ‘Oh, well—’ she glanced at the ceiling, clearly hiding her embarrassment ‘—needs were what they were, after all.’

  ‘Madeline.’ He turned her face so that she could do nothing but look into his eyes. ‘When I promised myself to you, I did know you. I don’t mean just the birthmark or anything else I learned about you that night. Before that, on the docks, I knew you put other people’s well-being ahead of your own. I knew you were brave, you were bold and adventurous.’

  ‘You saw all that through a spyglass? From across the street? Truly, in only a few moments you came to those conclusions?’

  ‘They were obvious.’

  ‘Really, Rees—did you miss the part where I was running from a man? Surely you did not see a woman who broke her family’s heart in the spyglass?’

  ‘It would have made no difference.’

  ‘It ought to have. You married someone who nearly died b
ecause she did not know to come out of the cold.’

  He shook his head. ‘No difference.’

  ‘I was not at all resourceful and—’

  Her lips moved, but he no longer paid attention to what they were saying.

  He had to kiss them.

  She stopped talking.

  ‘Madeline, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Oh,’ she murmured.

  ‘I want you, all of you—I want to be your husband in God’s way. Do you know what I am saying? What I am asking of you?’

  ‘Yes, Rees, I know.’

  He, a grown man and peer of the realm, felt as though he might weep. For joy and for fear.

  Inside him truth and lies were at war. His heart was the battleground, but his wife’s would be the casualty.

  Now was the time to tell her—now before things went too far between them and she could no longer seek the annulment.

  Another kiss, an intimate touch, and it could happen.

  He let go of her waist to capture her hand. He kissed her knuckles, took a great breath, then held her gaze.

  ‘Do you remember when I said there was another reason I wanted to marry you?’

  ‘I’ve been intensely curious over it.’

  ‘It has to do with—’ He tried to huff, but choked instead. The words he needed to say became cramped in his throat and would not emerge. ‘When I saw you in the spyglass, I thought you were the prettiest woman I’d ever seen.’

  ‘That is very sweet, Rees. And now you may kiss me.’

  ‘I would, and I will. But I’ve only just recalled I must go out—speak with the Captain.’

  What a wretch he was. A compound liar. One who uttered one lie to cover another. But he had to get outside, have a moment alone to confront the state of his soul.

  ‘I forbid it. Whatever it is can wait until the morning. You will lie down on the bed and sleep.’

  Clamping his hands about her waist, he lifted her off the floor and set her down behind him.

  ‘My mother will adore you. I’ll explain all this when I get back, I promise.’

  He opened the door and found himself eye to eye with Mr Hayes.

  ‘Come quickly, sir. There has been a fire.’