Isabella closed her eyes. “He only wants what my status can offer.”
Edyeth clicked her tongue. “Then you have your work cut out for you. Show him there’s more to gain than status. If that man doesn’t see your compassion after your trying, I’ll bring you back myself.”
After a couple of minutes of the two women sharing their tea in silence, Edyeth heaved a sigh and pushed to her feet, pulling two trunks from under the bed and coughing when they came out with a layer of dust. She spread the wide base of her white apron over the boxes, wiping the top of both trunks and examining the clean surface.
“It’s not like before, Edyeth. There’s no walking away from marriage, a husband.”
“I don’t believe Mr. Ferguson is anything like that man who hurt you.” Edyeth held Isabella’s gaze over the trunks. “I think he’s an honest toff.”
“How can you be sure?”
“He told you exactly what he wanted, didn’t he? Men like the captain start out the way they mean to continue. Harsh as it may be, I believe if you’d truly looked at Lord Emsley’s character, you’d have seen who he really was, but you were in love. There’s no seeing straight with those emotions churning in your heart.” Edyeth stood.
“Wait,” Isabella said, seeing her friend was about to lift the trunks. Isabella set her cup down and walked towards the bed, taking hold of the handle. Together they hoisted the first, then second trunk onto the bed and unlatched the buckles.
Edyeth nodded her thanks and wiped her palms on her apron. “You deserve better than this life you were tossed into, m’lady. I firmly believe our Lord sent Mr. Ferguson to restore your good name and maybe offer a glimpse at happiness.”
Isabella’s nose wrinkled. “You can’t know that.”
“That the good Lord wants you happy?” The older woman’s hands gripped her hips when she faced Isabella. “Of course, I can. He wishes all His children to be happy,” she said matter of factly, as if such things were common knowledge.
“Me and my Pashkin were strangers to you when you offered us lodgings and what wages you could piece together.” Edyeth raised her palm, stopping Isabella’s protest. “Granted, my Pashkin did save you from that ruffian, but you didn’t have to take us in like you did.” Edyeth smiled. “I’m glad you did, for my sister’s home was crowded with her own children. What I’m trying to say is, you are the most kindhearted lady I know, and Mr. Ferguson is sure to see that.”
That wasn’t exactly what Isabella wanted to hear, but she had no intention of telling Edyeth that. Especially not now when Edyeth believed Nicholas was an opportunity at a new beginning.
Edyeth tilted her head to the side when Isabella said nothing and took several dresses from the closet, laying them across the trunk.
“And if he doesn’t, I could have my Pashkin show him to the door. But that man of yours doesn’t look the type to be taking orders, no matter who they be coming from.”
Until now, Isabella hadn’t spared the Berths’ wellbeing much thought. It was selfish of her not to consider the two other people in her household, who were more than servants. “I’m afraid you’re right.” She had no desire to stir the captain’s anger and risk their livelihoods. Placing her shoes on the floor of the trunk, they folded the dresses, stacking them until the larger trunk was full.
They were closing the empty closet when the door to her room opened and Nicholas filled the entryway. Pashkin stood behind Nicholas, and to his right, the carriage driver from the previous night.
“Chambers and Pashkin are here to help with your trunks.”
“We haven’t finished,” Edyeth said sternly.
“It’s all right,” Isabella said when the men took hold of the closed box and were out the door as fast as they had entered. “Go pack your belongings,” she told the other woman.
“You mean to take us with you?” Edyeth looked from Isabella to Nicholas.
Isabella’s eyes met Nicholas’s over Edyeth’s white cap. “Of course. The captain has insisted.” She waited for Nicholas to respond to the challenge and watched as the captain’s only response was to brace his broad shoulders against the wall. The older woman hurried out the room, stopping only to thank the captain for his generosity.
“I don’t remember a discussion about your servants.”
“Don’t you?” Her brows creased. “When you inquired about them earlier I assumed… It must be the excitement of moving or the suddenness of it all,” she said, lowering her lashes and pressing the back of her hand against her forehead.
His lips twitched. “Are you about to swoon?”
“I’ve never fainted a day in my life. Pass me the silver case and bottles from the dresser, will you?” He pushed off the wall, his fingers making quick work gathering the items before handing them to her. She pointed to the dresser. “And the compartments, we haven’t emptied those yet.” Rolling the perfume and powder box in towels, she placed them in the bottom of the small trunk.
“Is this to be my reward for my charity?”
If he expected sympathy after sending her helper away, she did not intend to give him any. He wanted them packed quickly, so he would have to help. Isabella was about to tell him that when, from beneath her lashes, she caught a glimpse of the garment in his hands. Her face heated as she watched him examine her corset.
“Give me that.”
“Nay.”
Her pulse raced and she found herself wanting to box the devilish smile from his face. “It’s not proper.” She advanced, only to have him raise the garment higher above her head.
“A difference of opinion. A mon ought to be able-bodied in the art of handling his wife’s frock.”
“Mr. Ferguson!” She took hold of the dangling strings and tugged, only to have the material strain in protest. She quickly released the strings.
He took the garment to the bed, his long fingers untangling the knots she’d created. “I happen to be skilled at unfastening women’s things.”
She snatched the garment from his hold, folding it before placing the wrinkled corset into the box. Isabella wasted no time emptying the rest of the drawers herself while Nicholas chuckled from his place at the corner of the bed. Once again, he had distracted her. “Keep your experienced fingers away from my clothing,” she warned, waving an undergarment at him only to groan when he grinned.
Nicholas relaxed against her bed, perched on his elbow. “I’ve hired a hack to take the Berths and your things to my home.”
“Would it not be better if I accompanied them?”
He stared at her for a long moment as if deliberating. “I have business in town and would appreciate your companionship.”
Isabella wasn’t so sure. It had been a long time since she went into town. She was always mindful not to linger or attract the attention of Emsley’s friends. The top of the trunk snapped shut, and she latched the lid into place. “Edyeth will need help unpacking. I would be more help to you at your home.”
“Afraid I’ll embarrass you?”
“No”
“Shred the last of your repute?” He stood then.
“Of course not.” Isabella backed away from the bed.
“Aye, it’s settled then.” He hoisted the trunk off the mattress.
“You’re an intelligent sort, Mr. Ferguson.” She took advantage when he paused at the formality of his name. “You must see, with no chaperone this arrangement will cause further scandal. I know you care little for the rules of society, but I’ll be of no use if I’m further shunned.” Isabella clutched his arm.
He searched her face, then nodded.
She sighed, “Thank you.”
His voice was low when he next spoke. “The Berths will be my guests. Mrs. Berths your lady companion.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She had expected to remain in her home.
“No one will object to you wanting to know the family you’re marrying. Peers do it all the time when the family is travelling from out of the country or the like. And you�
�ve come with not one chaperone, but two. Your peers consider you a spinster, and in doing so, allow you a morsel of freedom.”
“Yes, but…”
“Lass, I’m not leaving you here another night.”
“Because you want to be sure we marry.” Her lips thinned.
“No, because I can’t protect you if you’re here.”
“Contrary to your beliefs, I’m capable of—”
“Protecting yourself,” he finished. “You’re coming with me.”
She touched his arm when he turned. “Promise, no matter what happens, you’ll care for the Berths…” If she needed to leave London, she couldn’t afford to take the Berths with her. They’d been good to her. She needed Nicholas’s word that they’d remain in his household.
He stared at her for a measured time.
“It’s the least you can do since I’m giving up my rented townhouse.”
He sighed and nodded.
Isabella followed him. They descended the stairs and walked out the front door of her home to his waiting carriage. With each step, he barked orders as if the Berths were always part of his household. The carriage door latched, the wheels starting to roll. In the bright afternoon sun, she noticed the crumbling bricks under the windowsill. She leaned against her seat, letting the thick drape fall, cutting off her past as she stared at the man who held her future.
Beside her, Edyeth squeezed her hand. “May your new home bring you much joy, m’lady.”
Isabella’s fingers curled around Edyeth’s.
A boot swiftly dragged along the floor of the carriage. Pashkin grumbled in response to being kicked by his wife. “Thank ye, Mr. Ferguson, for keeping us on.”
“You are welcome. I trust you will be the best of chaperones to Lady Isabella.”
“Edyeth and me both, sir.”
Soon the carriage stopped. “Where are we?” Isabella asked, moving the curtain aside.
“Broad Street.” Nicholas opened the door and lifted Isabella down from the carriage, setting her feet on the sidewalk. Before she had a chance to ask his intent, they were entering a merchant’s shop, the Berths following a short distance behind.
“Jenkins,” Nicholas called when they entered.
The man behind the counter turned, a wide grin stretching his mouth. Isabella had never seen Nicholas smile so broadly. She’d seen him angry, playful, and once even glimpsed something close to tenderness, but not this peaceful happiness that required no thought. It gave her hope that she could survive marriage to this man.
“Captain.” The men hugged. “I wondered when you’d stop by.”
“I’d like you to meet someone.” Nicholas took his friend by the shoulders. “This is Lady Isabella Pennington, my fiancée. Mr. Jenkins and I met the first time I stepped on a ship.”
“Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Jenkins took Isabella’s outstretched hand in his larger one, giving it a firm shake. She looked from one man to the other.
“And these are her chaperones, Mr. and Mrs. Berths.”
Jenkins nodded and smiled. “I read about the engagement in the papers. Couldn’t believe a mere woman tamed the lad.” He laughed, a booming sound that filled the shop.
“Did you not read the entire article, sir?” Isabella asked. “I’m no mere woman. I’m the slayer of hearts.”
Jenkins laughed again, slapping Nicholas on the back. “You came to place a new order, yes?”
Nicholas nodded. “Can you have it ready in three days?”
Jenkins rubbed his jaw. “I ought to see your list first.” He faced Isabella. “Why don’t you have a look around?”
She did just that, examining the wares as the men continued their discussion at the counter. Her fingers slipped over a fabric woven with gold threads, the bolt rich and detailed. She found herself imagining a golden dress, the dimming light of sunset dancing off the threadwork.
Her pause caught Nicholas’s attention, and he walked over to her, examining the fabric over her shoulder. “You like it?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Then you shall have it.”
She faced Nicholas. “There’s no need. I don’t believe we’ll be invited to many parties this Season.”
“You’ll have to plan a ball of your own.”
Her eyes widened. “You would have a bunch of snobs parade through your home?”
“Nay, our home. I think they’ll be too curious not to accept your invitation.”
He took the bolt of fabric from beneath her fingers, handing it to Jenkins, along with a deep blue bolt and a coral spool. “Add these to the tally, will you, Jenkins?”
The other man nodded and the two shook hands, arranging a time in three days that Nicholas would return to pick up his wares. With their business concluded, Nicholas turned his attention back to Isabella, offering her his arm.
Folding her arm under his, he guided them from the shop. “Are you hungry, Isabella?”
Nicholas thoroughly confused her. She hadn’t expected kindness after Daniel’s visit, and she certainly didn’t expect to be strolling through town and being introduced to his friends, which was more than Emsley had ever done. When she did meet Emsley’s friends, she always left the encounter feeling soiled. Isabella shivered.
“Are you alright?” Nicholas frowned.
“Yes, thank you.”
The next time they stopped, he was guiding them into a dining house.
A serving girl approached them. Nicholas leaned close and whispered into Isabella’s ear, “If you feel strongly about being seen with me, we don’t need to stay.”
Isabella shook her head. “I was only recalling how cruel people can be.”
“I can’t guarantee no one will be mean or cruel to you, lass. Jesu, I can’t even guarantee anger will not come from me. But I swear, I will try to protect you from the brunt of it.”
She nodded, believing he meant his words. Standing close, his strength was a living, breathing support, and Isabella wanted desperately to cling to it, to him. If only she wasn’t afraid to let go of her independence. To be at the mercy of love. Even after giving her word to Nicholas, agreeing to his notions of marriage, the thought of living a half-filled life seemed unfair.
“Two tables, please,” he said to the serving girl, disrupting Isabella’s thoughts. “You may seat Mr. and Mrs. Berths within view,” he ordered, making it clear he wished privacy.
“Yes, sir. Follow me, sir.”
Seated close to the fire, she let the warmth drive the chill of doubt from her bones. Nicholas believed she could offer him something. She’d teach him what she knew of the ton and would accept the benefits he offered her in exchange.
“How old were you when you first boarded a ship?” She pressed the subject further when he did not reply. “When you introduced your friend, Mr. Jenkins, you mentioned knowing him when you first boarded a ship.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Isabella began to think he had no intention of revealing anything from his past. Then he shrugged. “Twelve, mayhap thirteen.”
Her heart broke. He was no more than a child. “Where was your mother?”
“Sick mostly.”
From the way his fingers briefly tightened around his silverware, she knew talk of is mother still caused pain. Tears clouded her vision when she thought of the responsibilities he had faced at a tender age.
“I was bigger than the lads my age.” He shrugged again, and this time she knew he cared far more about his past than he led on. “It was easy enough to board a ship, earn my keep.”
“You could have been killed.” She shivered. Her eyes touched on the Berths, but they were engrossed in their own conversation and eating their meal.
Nicholas chuckled. “From fists, yes. The sea, no. It’s where I can forget. The past doesn’t matter at sea, only surviving each day.” He paused. “It’s safe.”
Isabella gasped. Surely she’d misheard. Nothing she’d ever heard about sailing was safe. “Safe, Mr. Ferguson?
”
He looked at her. “From nightmares and London…”
“From remembering what happened to your mother,” she said, guessing that was part of the reason he’d spent so many years sailing instead of fortifying his business connections in London.
He nodded.
“The sea does not question your birth before folding you under,” he continued. “It’s the one place title does not matter, except if a lad is unlucky enough to be taken captive for ransom or slavery. The skills to reason and think logically when under attack and a strong sword arm are a man’s greatest assets. The first time I stepped on a ship, I knew I’d captain my own. I saw how things could be if men trusted each other. Good men wouldn’t lose their lives because their mates coveted their belongings or because their captain thought them no more than a means.”
Isabella frowned. That was no life for a child. Even now the streets were crowded with orphans who picked the pockets of unsuspecting men, and it was a challenge to imagine Nicholas as one of them, struggling to survive. Her chest tightened. “And your father, where was he?”
Leaning forward, he rested both elbows on the table, distance disappearing between them. “I’m a bastard, Isabella, you know that.”
Undeterred, she shook her head. Bastard or not, he still had a father. What man abandons his child? But she knew of many aristocrats who did. Had her father not done the same? Holding his gaze, she asked again, “Where was he, Nicholas, when his twelve-year-old son sought to make a living at sea?”
“In the country with his new wife, I assume.”
She gasped. He knew. He had known of his father the entire time. She’d expected a defensive shrug or to be told he did not know of his sire. His honesty made her want to hold the young boy, comfort the man across the table.
“Lord Jeffery Ferguson, inheritor of Venture Estate. Marriage to my mother would not have given him property or maintained his lifestyle.”
“For wealth, he abandoned you and your mother entirely?” She’d only met Lord Jeffery once, at her father’s country home, and struggled to remember any details of the man that was linked to Nicholas. “Yet, she gave you his name?” There was only one reason a mother did that—hope.
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