Love Regency Style

by Samantha Holt

  Eve Crenshaw cast her a recriminating glance. “You didn’t touch yours.”

  “I can’t say I blame you,” Erroll said.

  “It will be a shame to waste the remainder of the provisions you brought aboard, my lord,” the elder sister said. “I want to serve as chef for the remainder of the voyage.”

  “Can you cook?”

  “Of course.”

  “As interesting as it would be to see you in the galley—” and he had to admit, it would be interesting “—I must refuse.”

  Her mouth parted in surprise. “You asked if I could cook.”

  “I was curious.”

  “I can cook enough for everyone,” she said. “We are willing to share the food you bought.”

  “That would only spoil the crew.”

  “No danger there,” the younger said. “Eve is not so good a cook that she will spoil anyone.”

  “I beg your pardon. I am a tolerably good cook.”

  “I am trying to help you,” her sister said.

  “Oh. Yes, well, in that case, she is right, my lord.”

  Erroll shook his head. “I am sorry, the answer is still no. It is too dangerous for you to leave this cabin.”

  “Rubbish,” the younger said. “There are three of you, and only two of us. Eve is asking only to work in the galley for two or three hours. It will be no hardship for Oscar to be there with her, and Lord Somerset can keep watch over me.”

  Erroll started to deny the request a second time, then realized that placing Somerset in the lady’s path played into his plan. “You do not wish to accompany your sister to the galley?”

  She actually shuddered. “Heavens, no. I have never so much as made a cup of tea.”

  Erroll could believe that. He looked at the elder sister. “I assume you would like to begin tonight?”

  “Why not? It is early yet and I have nothing better to do.”

  “The books I purchased today are not sufficient distraction?”

  “They were much appreciated, thank you, but one can read only so long without moving about.”

  “I’ll speak with the captain. I imagine we can come to an agreement.”

  “Offer him some of the Irish brandy you brought aboard.”

  Erroll stared at her nonplused. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have a nosy streak, madam?”

  “No. But I have never been confined to a ship’s cabin before. Lord only knows what other hidden faults might appear if my confinement grows too tedious.”

  Erroll could well imagine and, oddly, wondered how he might find out exactly what those hidden faults were.

  *****

  Preparing the evening meal kept Eve up late, but she slept well and woke early the next morning refreshed. She found that, though she spent most of her time below deck, the movement of the ship and the sea air agreed with her. Today, she planned a stew with freshly baked rolls for the evening meal. The hour was three o’clock, Oscar sat at the table keeping silent watch as it seemed he had done throughout her life, and she looked forward with pleasure to the work ahead.

  Eve opened a small cupboard and spotted several bottles half hidden behind a sack of flour. She pulled out the flour and set it on the table to the left of Oscar’s seat, then grabbed the bottle of brandy, the bottle of wine, and an unnamed whiskey. The cook obviously liked a nip or two while he prepared meals, which probably accounted for his slaughter of their steaks. The cook would likely not forgive her for filching his liquor, but the wine would go well in the stew.

  Three hours later, Eve looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. She replaced the lid on the stew, and glanced over her shoulder. Lord Rushton stepped into the galley and her pulse jumped. Heaven help her, he stood in boots, buckskin breeches, and a white lawn shirt open at the neck. His tanned chest revealed a hint of hair just above the top button. Eve yanked her gaze up to his face.

  Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, but he said in a level voice, “I see you made good use of the provisions I brought aboard. The smell of freshly baked bread has permeated the ship. The crew is threatening mutiny if they don’t get some.”

  Eve realized Oscar was watching him and the rogue knew it. With conscious effort, she kept her eyes on his face. If Oscar kept any closer watch on her, he would climb inside her skin. Using the same matter-of-fact tone Lord Rushton had used, she asked, “What sort of captain have we if he cannot control his men over the scent of baked bread?”

  The earl grinned and her traitorous heart skipped a beat. “I will lead the mutiny,” he said.

  Eve gave him a look of mock horror. “Then we had better feed all of you.” She grabbed the towel she used as a hot pad. “If I am not mistaken, the bread should be ready.” She lifted the lid of the Dutch oven that hung over the fire alongside the stew and peered inside. The buns glowed a soft golden brown. She removed the pot from the fire and set it on a tin plate on the table.

  “Oscar.” Lord Rushton nodded as he rounded the far side of the table. The earl halted beside her and leaned over the bread. “I believe I could eat all these myself.”

  “Then it is fortunate I made several batches.” Eve lifted the towel from a bowl where she’d placed the baked buns.”

  His eyes lit like a boy at the dessert table. “You made enough for an army.”

  “You did provide plenty of provisions,” she replied.

  The aroma of baked bread wafted up on a wave of heat. Lord Rushton’s stomach growled.

  “Haven’t you eaten today?” she asked.

  “No, and I am ravenous.” He reached for one of the buns.

  Eve slapped his hand like a naughty child. “The crew first, sir.”

  He straightened. “That will be a novelty for them.” His eyes twinkled. “Be quick about it. I cannot resist your goods for long, madam.”

  She looked sharply at him, but it seemed he referred to the bread and not her goods as she had perceived, for his eyes were closed as he inhaled another deep breath.

  Eve suddenly realized that Oscar couldn’t have missed her reaction. She turned to the cupboard and withdrew three bowls, and said, “Have the men come down.”

  Lord Rushton shook his head. “I will remain here and Oscar can deliver the rolls while you prepare a tray for your sister and Somerset.”

  She would much rather get away from his disturbing presence, something she wouldn’t own up to that for all the tea in China. Eve buttered rolls, placed them in a large bowl, and faced Oscar. “When you return, I’ll have Grace and Lord Somerset’s dinner plates prepared.” He glanced at Lord Rushton, and she added, “Go along, Oscar, I am quite safe with Lord Rushton here.”

  “That is likely where you are least safe,” Oscar said under his breath, and she wanted to box his ears for being more right than she cared to admit.

  “Move along, or when we return home I will have my father send you packing,” she told him.

  He grunted. “After this escapade, your father will send me packing one way or another.” He cast a final warning glance at the earl, then took the bowl of bread and left.

  Eve looked at Lord Rushton. “I had not thought of that.”

  He snatched a hot bun from one of the pans and began buttering it. “Had not thought of what?”

  “The consequences Oscar might suffer as a result of—”

  Lord Rushton looked up at her, unabashed amusement in his eyes. “Of you kidnapping me?” He bit into the roll.

  She leaned against the counter. “Yes.”

  “Miss Crenshaw, I must say, this bread is the finest I have ever eaten.”

  “I’m glad you like it, my lord. What will Oscar do?”

  “How about some of that stew?”

  Eve frowned. “What?”

  “The stew.” He stuffed more of the roll into his mouth and reached for one of the bowls sitting on the counter.

  She reached the bowl first and ladled soup into it. Eve imagined Oscar employed in a household where the master beat his servants. The first time the m
an lifted a hand to Oscar—or anyone else, for that matter—Oscar would lay the man flat on his backside and end up in Newgate for his trouble.

  “I’ll never forgive myself.” She handed the full bowl to the earl.

  He took a whiff of the rising steam, then released the breath. “Oscar will be all right.”

  “He has been in our household since I was a girl. This is all my fault.”

  Lord Rushton set the bowl on the table, then grabbed another roll and buttered it. “There is no denying that.”

  Eve shot him a disgruntled look. “You started it.”

  “No, madam. Your sister started it.” Before she could think of a fitting reply, he said, “Oscar is a fixture in your household, then?”

  “Yes.” Eve couldn’t imagine her home without him.

  Lord Rushton popped the last of the roll into his mouth as he swung a leg over the bench seat. He sat down and swung his other leg over the bench. “If your father lets Oscar go, I will hire him.”

  Eve broke from her thoughts. “What?”

  He swallowed the stew he’d spooned into his mouth. “I will employ the brute.”

  “Brute?” she echoed.

  “He is a very large man and he did hit me very hard. Brute.”

  She wasn’t sure if the satisfaction in his voice came from his assessment of Oscar or his delight with a palatable meal.

  He took another spoonful of stew and followed that bite with a large chunk of roll. “This is really quite marvelous,” he said through the indecent mouthful.

  Eve took two steps and plopped down on the bench beside him, her back to the table so she could see his face. “Really?”

  “Really what?”

  “Will you hire Oscar?”

  He nodded, eyes on the roll, and swallowed.

  “My lord!” Eve threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. “Thank you.” She was instantly enveloped with the smell of soap, sea, and man. Her cheek warmed with the contact of his skin and she was flooded with memory of his hand cupping her derriere and grinding her stomach against his hard length.

  Eve released a stuttered breath…then realized he had gone still.

  Her heart thumped madly and she found she didn’t know what to do. Thankfully—or maybe to her mortification—he said in a low voice, “Had I known this would be your reaction, I would have offered Oscar employment days ago.”

  Holy God, she had to say something—do something—but she got another deep whiff of his scent and her mind muddled.

  “While I would love to take advantage of this situation,” he said, “I fear the man I am offering to employ would shoot me if I did. As we have yet to arrange the generous marriage settlements you assured me I would give, it might be better if I commit the crime after we are married rather than before.”

  Booted feet sounded in the corridor outside the galley and Eve jumped back as if bitten. An instant later, Oscar appeared in the doorway. He halted and looked from her to Lord Rushton, who was stuffing another large spoonful of stew into his mouth with the gusto of a starving man. Eve was certain he was exaggerating his enthusiasm.

  “I hope you had one of those rolls,” he said to Oscar. “They are the finest in all of Great Britain.” The earl tore off another bite of roll and nodded to him.

  Eve jumped up. “Let me prepare Grace and Lord Somerset’s food.”

  “Do not forget Oscar,” Lord Rushton said.

  Eve frowned. “He will eat when he returns.”

  “He will take his supper in his hammock, then get some much needed rest. Your protector will do you no good if he collapses from exhaustion.”

  “I think you are being melodramatic.”

  He shrugged. “Think what you will.”

  She hesitated, then realized arguing was fruitless, and readied a tray. When she turned from the small shelf after removing two cups, Eve found Oscar still standing inside the doorway, staring at Lord Rushton. She suddenly realized that Oscar would join Lord Rushton and Grace’s home, not Eve’s and Lord Somerset’s. How had she not caught that when Lord Rushton offered to employ him?

  “You all right, Miss?”

  Eve jarred from her thoughts to see Oscar staring at her.

  “Oh, yes. I’m fine.” She handed him the tray.

  “Your dinner is there,” Lord Rushton told him. “Deliver the food to Somerset and Miss Crenshaw, then get some rest. After Miss Crenshaw has had her dinner, I will see her to her cabin and Somerset will keep watch over them until morning.”

  “I’ll leave the tray and return,” Oscar said.

  “No need,” Eve said. “I will be going directly to our cabin after I clean up.”

  “You have nothing to worry about, Oscar,” Lord Rushton said. “I did not ensure Miss Crenshaw’s safety thus far only to be the one to undo all the good I have done. If nothing else, you can rest assured, my father would have my hide if I did.”

  “If there was any hide left,” Oscar said, and, thankfully—or perhaps not so thankfully— he took the tray and left.

  Eve found she couldn’t move.

  “Dish up some of your wonderful stew and sit down with me, Miss Crenshaw.” Lord Rushton turned slightly and extended his empty bowl toward her. “I’ll have a bit more, as well.”

  She filled his bowl and gave it to him along with two more rolls, then dished up a small amount of stew and took a roll for herself.

  She sat across from him. “I am sorry, sir.”

  His mouth quirked. “So am I, though doubtless my regrets are different than yours.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “One way or another, I’ll get you killed.”

  “There are worse ways to die.”

  It took Eve a moment, then she realized his meaning and rolled her eyes.

  “You cannot blame me,” he said.

  Eve snorted. “Men.”

  “He takes good care of you.”

  Despite the fact she hadn’t forgiven him for taking Lord Rushton’s side against her, affection warmed her heart. “He has pulled me from many a scrape.”

  “Is he in love with you?”

  “In love with me? Good Lord, no. He would never deign to look in my direction. My father would never countenance it.”

  “Do you want him to look in your direction?”

  “My lord! He is like a brother to me.”

  Lord Rushton shrugged. “That doesn’t mean he considers you a sister.”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s in his nature to protect, but he is not in love with me. In fact, I am certain he is sweet on our housekeeper’s daughter.” A moment of silence passed as she took a small spoonful of stew, then she asked, “What did you tell my father in your communication to him?”

  “I told him Halifax had kidnapped you and that I’d shot him. He would have found that out soon enough, and I preferred he heard it from me rather than the rumor mill. I said your sister was with us, but gave no other explanation, and added that we were headed for Mull and would contact him once we arrived safely.”

  “It was good of you not to mention that Oscar and I kidnapped you.”

  “That was a matter of expediency,” he replied. “The less said in a letter, the better. Your father is no fool. I have no doubt he’ll discover the truth.”

  “Only Grace, Oscar, and I know.”

  “But your sister left Manchester with an entourage and went to Gretna Green. Your father may not guess that Oscar kidnapped me, but he will deduce that his daughters colluded to get me to Gretna, and Oscar aided you.”

  Eve picked at her food. “Do you think he would believe I agreed to go with you and planned to trick you into marrying Grace instead?”

  “Yes.”

  He’d answered too quickly, which peeved her. But he was a man, and all men believed all women would fall prey to their charms. Though few eligible women of Society would prove Lord Rushton wrong, and too many ineligible women would prove him right.

  “Still,” Eve said, “I do not believe my father will bel
ieve you went willingly to be married. It’s hopeless.”

  Lord Rushton’s lips twitched in amusement as he popped the last of the roll into his mouth. “I feel certain he would, in fact, believe just that.”

  She shook her head. “I cannot see why. He knows you have no plans to actually marry me—or Grace, for that matter.”

  “On the contrary, he is certain I will marry you.”

  Lord Rushton rose, rooted out two tin cups from a cupboard, and poured wine. He buttered two more rolls, then set a cup in front of her and reseated himself.

  He took a long swig of his wine. “Drink it. Wine relieves tension.

  Eve took a swallow and grimaced. “What is this?”

  “A very bad wine. Finish it up.” He drank the rest of his.

  She eyed the contents, but took another gulp. “Not as bad the second time around.”

  “It never is.”

  “How do you occupy yourself, my lord?” Eve bit into her roll. “We see you only in passing on our walks, and not always then. Surely you aren’t keeping yourself confined down below as we are?”

  “You are not down below, Miss Crenshaw. The second mate gave up his private cabin for you.”

  Eve nodded. “I knew the cabin belonged to an officer. You must have paid a pretty penny for this excursion, my lord.”

  He grinned. “The very reason I enjoy full freedom of the ship—as much as the captain, in fact.”

  “I suppose I should consider myself fortunate to have been allowed even the privilege of slaving away in the galley.”

  “You were not pressed into service.” He ripped his roll apart and ate the piece. “You begged to be allowed to cook. But had I known what a skilled baker you are, I would have chained you here and stood guard myself.”

  “You must have eaten half a dozen of those rolls,” Eve said. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

  “It would be worth it. When did you learn to make these? They really are the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Our cook is the finest in Manchester. That is the one area where my father insists upon the best.”

  “I heartedly agree,” Lord Rushton said. “She taught you well.”

  “She did, to my mother’s mortification. When I was eight, I begged Mrs. Larson to teach me. I have no doubt it began as an indulgence, but by the time I was twelve, I had mastered hot cross buns and pigeon pie, to name two of my favorites. At a dinner party my mother hosted she discovered the bread she served to guests had been prepared by my hand and nearly had an apoplexy. She threatened poor Mrs. Larson with unemployment. My father warned me to go into the kitchen only when my mother was out of the house and demanded Mrs. Larson give the first of my fruits in payment for his silence.”