by Deborah Hale
“Not as long as she should have.” Ewan pitched his wet trousers over the screen at Jock. “And what do ye mean, ye haven’t much use for the rest of the family? What about Miss Tessa? She’s a bonny lass.”
“Aye, to look at.” Jock muttered, his words almost drowned out by the sounds of the wardrobe being opened.
“She’s a lively wee thing.” Ewan grabbed a towel from the washstand and began rubbing himself dry. His toes and fingertips were puckered like big pale raisins, but his arms were beginning to regain some of their strength.
“Aye,” said Jock. “Used to getting her own way and all. His lairdship doted on her, while he hardly spared a thought for her sister.” He hung articles of dry clothing over the edge of the dressing screen. “By the way, I rescued the clothes ye left lying on the deck when ye jumped overboard.”
Ewan muttered his thanks, but his mind fixed on what Jockie had said about Claire. A qualm of guilt rolled through his belly, though he couldn’t reckon why.
Jock chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Ewan surged up on tiptoe, to peer over the screen.
“I was just thinking what would have happened if that had been Miss Tessa up on deck when ye jumped overboard, instead of Miss Claire.”
“Aye?”
“With all the screaming and the swooning …” Jock could scarcely get the words out for laughing. “The crew would have been so busy tending to her, ye’d have drowned for sure.”
A vivid image of the scene rose in Ewan’s mind. It made him feel heartily disloyal. “If it had been Miss Tessa up there instead of Miss Claire, I never would have jumped in the first place!”
Jock headed out the cabin door with Ewan’s wet trousers and drawers over his arm. Still chuckling, he shook his head. “Don’t ye be too sure about that, mate.”
Chapter Nine
After a thorough wash, a change of clothes, a hot toddy and a long nap, Claire felt sufficiently recovered to venture out to the dining room for tea. She was more than a little surprised to find Ewan already there, tucking into a hearty spread of sandwiches and cakes.
She hesitated on the threshold, overcome with awkwardness. When she’d looked upon the man as an enemy to thwart at all costs, it had been so much easier to approach him. Now she did not know how to proceed. She cringed, recalling what a fool she’d made of herself while trying to entice him.
Another memory hovered at the fringe of her thoughts, as well. That of Ewan sprawled on top of her in the lifeboat. It left her feeling roused and strangely vulnerable.
She tried to back out of the room without him noticing her, but he glanced up and caught her.
Dropping a half-eaten sandwich onto his plate, he jumped to his feet. “Please don’t go away on my account, Miss Talbot.”
“Are you sure?” Claire hated the note of uncertainty she heard in her voice. “I can come back later. I thought you must still be resting in your cabin.”
Why hadn’t she asked her maid to check first?
He took a step toward her. “I hope ye wouldn’t have stayed away on my account. I promise I’ll mind my manners at meals from now on.” His self-deprecating smile was infectious. “Even if ye come to breakfast decked from head to toe in diamonds.”
Claire gave an exaggerated shudder. “I fear that would not be very comfortable. Especially for sitting down.”
“I don’t reckon it would be.” He offered her his arm to lead her to the table.
He looked so genuinely eager for her company, yet a tightness around his eyes betrayed a shadow of worry that she might refuse. Somehow, it eased Claire’s embarrassment.
She let him escort her to the table and hold her chair.
“Anyway,” said Ewan, passing her the tray of sandwiches, “I know why ye wore all yer jewels and had yer cook make all that rich food.”
Claire fumbled the sandwich tray. “I’m sorry! How clumsy of me!”
“It’s my fault.” Ewan seized the dish and set it back down on the table where she could reach it. “I should have remembered … yer hands.”
Before she realized what he meant to do, he reached for her nearest hand and peeled back the glove from her wrist, exposing her bandaged palm. “I wouldn’t blame ye if ye didn’t want to dine in the same room with such a lout.”
But how could he stand to dine with her if he guessed what she’d been trying to do?
Discretion told her to avoid the subject and pray it never came up again. Yet she had to know—was it possible he did not despise her for trying to entrap him?
She reached for a walnut tea cake as an excuse to withdraw her hand. “You know why I wore so many jewels and served rich food?”
“Oh, aye.” Ewan pulled a wry face. “No pleasing some folk, is there? If ye’d dressed plain and served simple food, I might have gotten all offended that ye didn’t think I was worth making a fuss over.”
So he didn’t know the truth! A surge of relief weakened Claire’s arms worse than rowing the lifeboat had.
Perhaps it showed on her face, too, for Ewan asked, “That was what ye were trying to do, wasn’t it? Make me feel I was worth putting on a bit of a show for?”
“Something like that.” The lie stuck in Claire’s throat and threatened to choke her. “More tea?”
Ewan nodded. “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask after the way I acted, but do ye think ye could give me another chance? Forget the last twenty-four hours ever happened and start over again with a clean slate?”
Yesterday he had asked her to do that, but she had not been sincere in accepting his offer. Now, though she wasn’t sure she deserved another chance, she wanted one very much. Perhaps if she got to know him better—not the boy he’d once been, but the man he’d become—she could rid herself of any improper feelings toward him. Only then might she come to like and respect him as her future brother-in-law.
“I cannot let you take all the blame for what happened, but I would like us to start afresh. For Tessa’s sake.”
“That’s settled, then.” Ewan lifted his teacup as if in a toast. “Here’s to new beginnings and second chances. Rare blessings, both.”
“To new beginnings and second chances.” Claire raised her own cup and gingerly clinked it against his.
As Ewan Geddes gazed at her for the first time in their lives with a soft glow of fondness and admiration in his eyes, Claire struggled to ignore the sweet, warm flutter in her heart.
For Tessa’s sake. Those words did not sit well with Ewan, for reasons he could not work out.
Of course he wanted to get better acquainted with Claire Talbot for her sister’s sake. If all went well, they would be family one day. That thought troubled him, too.
He wondered why.
Could it be on account of the very unbrotherly feelings she roused in him? Aye, perhaps. But those feelings weren’t real, were they? Likely they were just some queer twist of the passionate hostility that had flared between them for as long as he could recall. Once they settled down and got to know each other, those yearnings would fade into something he could live with.
And if they didn’t? Better to know that now, before he got himself in too deep.
Ewan stirred from his musings to find Claire watching him with a most intent expression. He had a guilty feeling that she could read his thoughts.
“Tell me about America, Ewan,” she said. “Do you like it there? You’ve done well for yourself.”
Better than she knew. Once again he was tempted to tell her the truth about his fortune—though for quite the opposite reasons from what had compelled him in the moments before he’d jumped overboard. Then, he had wanted to crow over her. Now he wanted to be honest with her. But he feared the effect it might have on their truce, so new and fragile, to discover he owned a rival company.
When he did not reply right away, she prompted him further. “It could not have been an easy task to establish yourself.”
Ewan shrugged. “What is easy that’s worth doing in life? It’s as I told y
e at the Fortescues’ ball, America has plenty of opportunities for a man who’s willing to work hard and take a few chances.”
“And one who’s clever?”
“Aye, well …” A blush prickled in his cheeks. “I had a decent education for a lad in my position.”
He had the Talbots to thank for that, though he was not certain he had ever acknowledged it, even to himself.
“And over there—” he jerked his head in the direction he thought might be west “—they reckon every Scot’s an engineer, or can be with a wee bit of training.”
Claire smiled at his deliberate exaggeration. “And you have provided them with further proof for that assumption.”
He didn’t want to make his rise in the world sound too easy. “For all the folks who’re willing to give a lad a chance, there are more who think every newcomer should be sent back where he came from. Especially if he gets too far above his station.”
While they gorged themselves on cakes and sandwiches, Claire continued to prompt him with questions and comments until Ewan found himself telling her more about his business and his recent life than he’d ever intended. More than he’d told Tessa in all the time since he’d come to London.
“And what about ye?” he said at last, not daring to tell her too much more about his situation. “It can’t have been easy for a woman to take the helm of a company like Brancasters, supposing ye did inherit it from yer grandfather.”
“No indeed.” Claire shook her head with a rueful look that told Ewan she was remembering battles she’d fought and wounds she’d sustained. “The same type of people who think immigrants have no right to make something of themselves are the ones who believe women have no place in the business world … or anywhere else outside the nursery.”
For the next little while, he laughed and nodded over stories that sounded so familiar he could have told them himself, just by changing a few names and other particulars.
“Finally,” said Claire, “I realized I was only beating my head on a wall trying to make our customers accept me as the working manager of Brancasters. So I hired two gentlemen to represent me.”
“Those chaps yer secretary spoke of—Adams and Monteith?”
“That’s right. They dress well and speak well and they know enough about the business to give our customers confidence. But I am still the one who draws up the bids, seeks out suppliers and oversees the profitable operation of the company.”
“Does it not bother ye, though,” asked Ewan, “to have somebody else given credit for the work ye do?”
At first it seemed as if Claire meant to answer with an emphatic no. But after a moment’s consideration she said, “Sometimes. More so when I first started. Now I have the gratification of seeing Brancasters prosper, due to my efforts.”
“As long as ye know ye’ve done a good job, other folks and their opinions can go hang, eh?” Ewan often wished he cared less about what others thought of him.
Claire’s lips twisted in a sly grin. “I also have the secret satisfaction of knowing I am playing them all for fools. Someday, when the information can no longer do the company any harm, I mean to make it public, so women who come after me may encounter a little less prejudice in the commercial world.”
“Ha!” Ewan slapped his hand against the tabletop. “Good for ye, lass!”
He had always thought her as so privileged, with everything she wanted in life handed to her on a silver platter. It had never occurred to him that she might have had to strive as hard as he had for what she wanted. A spark of admiration for her kindled and took fire within him. She’d had the pluck to fight for what she desired, as well as the wit and grace to settle for the best she could get.
“Do ye reckon those two hirelings of yers will be able to keep Brancasters running for a few weeks without ye?”
Claire chuckled. “As long as dear Mr. Catchpole keeps a close eye on them, I think the firm may escape bankruptcy until I return!”
As her laughter subsided, a pensive look settled over her slender features. “Harry Adams intends to retire next year.” She murmured the words more to herself than to Ewan.
“Have ye got somebody in mind to take his place? Yer Mr. Catchpole, maybe?”
That brought a ready smile to her lips, but the set of her brow gave her a troubled look. “I’m not certain Mr. Catchpole would make quite the proper impression on our customers. Like me, he is better suited to wielding real authority behind the scenes. I had thought Spencer Stanton might be an ideal choice.”
“The man Tessa’s going to marry … er, was going to marry?” Ewan corrected himself, puzzled that he’d been able to say those words without a stab of jealousy.
Claire nodded. “Perhaps I should consider offering you the position, if you wed Tessa. Somehow I don’t believe you’d be content as a figurehead.”
They both laughed over that, then stopped abruptly when a young steward bustled into the dining room. “Begging your pardon, Miss Talbot. But Monsieur Anton asked me to inquire if you and the gentleman wish to have dinner served, or if you plan to take tea all evening?”
“It can’t be!” Ewan consulted his pocket watch. “Where did the time go?”
He could not recall when he’d last lost track of so many hours.
“Give Monsieur Anton our apologies,” Claire instructed the steward. “Tell him we will take a late supper, just something light. If that is all right with you, Ewan?”
“Aye, it suits me fine.” He patted his stomach. “I hadn’t noticed how many tea cakes I was eating. If I keep on like this, I’ll have to wear a kilt when we reach Strathandrew, for none of my trousers will fit!”
“We cannot let that happen, can we?” Claire rose from her seat, a trifle stiffly. “Though I agree with Tessa, you used to cut quite a dashing figure in your kilt and gillie vest, heading off to fish or shoot.”
“Oh, get away with ye!” Ewan winced as he heaved himself to his feet.
“What do you say we take a stroll around the deck?” asked Claire. “A bit of fresh air and exercise might do us both good.”
“Aye.” Ewan held out his arm to her. More than the sea air or the chance to stretch his limbs, he was convinced any time spent in the company of this remarkable woman would do him good.
If she had guessed how much she could enjoy Ewan Geddes’s company once she abandoned her foolish romantic fancy for him, she would have done it years ago. Claire told herself so repeatedly as she wandered the deck on his arm in the gathering twilight.
She could not remember when she’d laughed so hard or so often. The wit they had once used as ammunition for their verbal skirmishes they now turned upon more deserving targets for each other’s amusement.
Ewan nodded toward a crewman, swabbing the deck in glum silence. “I reckon somebody lost in the pool.”
“Pool?”
“Aye, the cheeky devils were placing wagers on which of the boats would reach me first, or whether I’d drown!”
Claire laughed until she feared her corset would burst.
Ewan lost his battle to maintain an indignant scowl. “I reckon Jockie McMurdo owes us both a pint at the Claymore, once we reach Strathandrew.”
By and by their conversation turned to more serious subjects, and Ewan listened to her with an unspoken sympathy that invited her to confide in him. When he talked, she sensed he was giving her a closer glimpse of his true thoughts than he allowed most people.
“This is such a novelty.” She stared toward the western horizon, which the setting sun had kindled in all the bright, warm hues of a driftwood bonfire. “Talking to a man about business and having him take me seriously … or at least pretend to.”
Ewan ran his hand over the deck railing. “It’s not often I get the chance to talk business with a lady and have her even pretend to be interested.”
“Did you talk to many ladies about business, back in America?” Claire did not know what prompted her to ask, or why his answer was so important to her.
&nb
sp; “A few.”
She knew it was too early in their renewed acquaintance to pry, but the brevity of his answer whetted her curiosity.
“Was there ever anyone … special for you in America, or did you always plan on coming back for Tessa?”
Ewan produced a derisive sound from deep in his throat, something between a chuckle and a growl. “I never dreamed I’d get the chance to court yer sister. I’d reckoned she must have married years ago.”
He explained how he had chanced upon the announcement of Tessa’s engagement in the Times. Claire was forced to agree that Fate had smiled upon the match. She should have known better than to fight a higher power.
Accept what you cannot change. Make the best of what you can get. Claire wished she had mastered those hard but vital lessons long ago. What a lot of unhappiness and fruitless struggle they would have saved her.
It had taken many frustrating years for her to accept that she could never win her father’s love. She had finally resigned herself to it, though, and learned to be content with his respect. Now she must accept that Ewan Geddes would marry Tessa, and learn to be content with his friendship. If their recent camaraderie was anything to judge by, perhaps that would not be such a bad bargain, after all.
Ewan stared out at the western horizon, too, with a far-off gaze, as if he could see all the way to America and ten years into the past.
“For quite a while at first, I never had the time or the money for courting.” He shook his head with a rueful half smile. “I might have been a wee bit gun-shy, too, after the trouble it had landed me in.”
“T-trouble?”
The sea was surprisingly calm as they rounded the tip of Cornwall, but Claire felt as if a huge wave had lifted the Marlet, then sent it plunging down into a deep trough.
“Oh, aye.” Ewan turned away from the deck railing and began to walk again.
He did not offer Claire his arm, and she did not reach for it. Instead, she followed close behind him, wishing she had not strayed from the safe subject of business.