Evelyn opened her lips to speak, but was interrupted.
“There is no need,” Lucius told Adele. “But I am not about to indulge you with wine, for you can drink wine in church. Tonight, Mrs. Whitfield, you drink like an Irishman. Beers all around!”
* * *
When it was time for cards, Lucius excused himself. Adele begged leave of her husband and laughingly followed Lucius and Charles Billings from the room. Stephen retreated to the stateroom, while Brock and Evelyn were left alone at the table.
They sat in silence for some moments before Evelyn emitted a small belch, which she found horribly embarrassing as well as laughable. She succumbed to a blush and a giggle, and pushed away the last of her beer.
“My, my, Duchess,” Brock smirked, “I think you’ve had enough to drink.”
“Quite,” she agreed. “What a blessing I am not playing cards, for I am seeing two of everything.”
“Do you see two of me?”
“I do.”
“And which one would you like to escort you up on deck for a bit of fresh air?”
“Oh, both, if you please.”
Brock rose and offered Evelyn his arm, which she took gratefully. He led her away from the hall, and when they reached the open deck, they were greeted with moist, warm air.
“Uncanny, is it not,” Evelyn said. “Not long ago, it was the dreariest of winters and now, all of a sudden, I feel as though it is summer.”
“The tropics are lovely. They never grow cold.”
“Never!” Evelyn exclaimed, a bit too loudly. “I cannot imagine. Ireland was always cold, and New York had the most dreadful winters. What shall California be like, I wonder?”
“I can only speculate, for I have never been there.”
“But you have heard rumors, surely.”
“We have all heard rumors.”
“Do you believe them?”
“I believe I shall find out for myself soon enough.”
“Are you ready for the challenge, Mr. Donnigan? Of a new world, I mean?”
“I thrive on challenge, Duchess. That’s why I’m here.”
With the way he was looking at her, Evelyn thought she caught a double meaning. But at the moment, she was seeing a double of everything.
“Tell me,” she said. “What do you want from California? Are you a senseless greenhorn like all the rest?”
“A senseless greenhorn? Is that how you think of yourself, Miss Brennan?”
“Of course not! I never wanted to go to California in the first place. It’s Lucius’ fault I am here.”
“And why is that?”
Evelyn swallowed hard. She should watch what she said, lest she reveal her secret. Informing Brock Donnigan of her quiet marriage would only serve to complicate things. The subject was better left alone, yet she could not leave him with nothing, nor did she want to. She was tipsy, and her tongue was loose, and all she wanted was to talk to and confide in this most gorgeous of male creatures.
“Three years ago,” she began, “there was an incident. Lucius was involved, as were his father and mine. The Flynns survived, but my father…”
She closed her eyes against the memory. Perhaps she did not want to talk after all.
“What happened to him?” Brock asked, encouraging her to proceed.
Evelyn sighed. How could she refuse those blue eyes?
“There was a brawl. Lucius is always throwing himself into foolish situations. He has no regard for the way others get hurt when he refuses to control himself, and on that night, in consequence of Lucius’ stupidity, my father was… murdered.” She stopped, took a breath. “My God,” she murmured, “to this day, the word is somehow foreign. And nearly impossible to say.”
So. Lucius Flynn’s charge held him in ill regard. Brock would have no competition for Evelyn’s affection, and he congratulated himself by reaching out and lightly touching her hand.
“I understand. Go on.”
She nodded and fixed her eyes on the dark sea before them.
“We immigrated to New York from Limerick on account of the famine. After my father died, the senior Mr. Flynn took me in and cared for me until I was of age to… to travel on my own. You see, Lucius is like a brother to me; a dreadfully annoying, foolish brother, whose duty it is to see me safely to my cousin in California. He and his wife are traveling from Oregon to the gold fields, and he has offered me a home, as well as an occupation. I shall be governess to his children.”
She added this last part for good measure, playing upon Brock’s pity.
“A governess?” he repeated, dubious. “Not the most glamorous occupation for a duchess.”
“No, I’m afraid there is nothing glamorous about my situation. Women are not granted control over their destinies. When my father died, my happiness died along with him.”
“And what of your mother? Did she remain in New York?”
“My mother has not been a part of my life since I was an infant. I have never known her. If she is alive, she is in Ireland, starving along with the rest.”
“Yours is a very sad story.”
“Indeed, and I have lost the desire to dwell upon it.” She shifted her weight as if to shift the subject. “You never told me why you are here, Mr. Donnigan. What waits for you in California?”
“Land.”
“Land! Was there not enough land in Australia?”
“Plenty.”
“Perhaps I am too bold, but if there are not floods in California, there will be fires.”
“I am not running from the rain, Miss Brennan.”
“Then from what are you running?”
“I have no desire to resurrect a demised piece of property, nor live without the lives that were claimed therein. And I do not speak only of crops and cattle.”
“You lost your family?”
“My parents drowned and the land was destroyed. Shortly after, my sister moved to Sydney and married a banker. She moved on, and so did I.”
“Alas, mine is not the only present tale of woe,” Evelyn sympathized. “I am so sorry to hear of what happened.”
Brock nodded, and there was a moment of silence.
“I have read stories about the Oregon Trail,” he said presently. “I wonder what should happen to you if your cousin and his family decided to turn back… or worse?”
“Then I shall be forced to remain with Lucius.”
As was already the course of her future.
“Then he is not to return to New York?”
“No. He wishes to prospect.”
“He would subject you to that kind of life? Could he not put you back on a ship to his father?”
“I would rather be returned to Ireland.”
“Ireland? To starve?”
“I have the means to survive without potatoes. The Brennans were not poor farmers. My father’s house was on the sea, with land to call his own. Upon his death, Brennan House fell to me.”
“It is tragic to imagine you walking the halls of a great house alone, Miss Brennan.”
“Aye,” Evelyn agreed, her eyes lingering on the dark expanse of sky overhead, where the stars bedazzled a black ceiling. “Unless I were to marry, of course.”
She waited for him to respond, but he merely watched her in silence. The ocean was calm and hushed as the Steam Rose advanced, the only clue to its presence the soft rustling of the wake and the occasional splash of water against the side of the ship.
“I find it difficult to believe,” Brock began, “that a man such as Lucius Flynn could possess the self-control to refrain from claiming you- an heiress with money, land, and astonishingly good looks- as his own. Surely the idea crossed the minds of both your fathers. I wonder how the two of you avoided an arranged marriage.”
Evelyn nearly choked.
“Narrowly,” she murmured.
“You are correct to say that Lucius is a fool, and a blind one at that. If I should be in his position…”
“I should hate it if you we
re.”
“And why is that?”
“I should be bored of you. If we had known each other all our lives, all mystery would be lost.”
“So you enjoy my mysteriousness?”
“Thoroughly.”
“Then perhaps I should stop talking and bid you goodnight. I would like to drag this out as long as possible.”
“You aim to please me and torment me.”
“Absolutely. Shall I see you to your room?”
Evelyn did not know whether to be delighted or offended.
“No. I am perfectly capable of escorting myself.”
“Then both of us,” Brock and his double grinned, “bid you goodnight. Sweet dreams, Duchess.”
At that, he turned and walked away, a dark silhouette against the glittering heavens.
Chapter Ten
The following morning, Adele remained in bed with a headache. Evelyn went on deck to take tea and write in her diary, but when she took up her pen, her mind was clouded. She felt anxious, and instead of enjoying the calm and beauty of the vast blue ocean, she found herself scanning the deck. At first she would not admit to herself why she was doing this, but she could not avoid the truth. Her nerves were electric at the thought of seeing Brock Donnigan. At one moment she felt fear, then joy, then overwhelming depression. All of these emotions should have inspired her to write, but all she wanted to do was think. And fret.
She ran over last night’s conversation again and again. Evelyn was highly acquainted with favorable attention, but rarely had she thought of such attentions as anything but expected and sometimes aggravating. These were not so with Brock Donnigan, and the fact that he was anything but forward was upsetting. Like Lucius, Brock did not turn into a drooling idiot at the sight of her, and it was highly unfortunate that the Australian should have anything in common with her secret husband.
Her secret husband. She cringed at the thought.
Whatever were they to do? The simple act of removing their wedding bands did not change the law, and the law said that Lucius Flynn and Evelyn Brennan were husband and wife. If Lucius were clever as well as ambitious, he would claim Evelyn’s inheritance, as well as Brennan House and her father’s lands, as his own. He would instantly be richer than if he obtained even moderate success in California, of which Evelyn was doubtful. Lucius, however, did not seem to be after riches so much as he was desperate for expensive thrills.
What a child.
Evelyn had read about their final port of call, San Francisco. It was a rapidly developing city and was sure to present any number of governmental offices. Perhaps she and Lucius could file for an annulment. Their marriage had not been consummated, not even with so little as a kiss. Surely the consequences of a single handshake could be reversed.
Evelyn twisted her hands together. Would Lucius agree to this scheme? It was in both their favors. Suppose one day, Lucius found a woman he did want to marry?
This idea made Evelyn feel a little better, though she was eager to present it to Lucius. He was still sleeping when she left the stateroom that morning, as he and Adele had been out late playing their game of cards.
What if Adele was right? What if Evelyn’s future husband was aboard the Steam Rose? And what if that future husband was Brock Donnigan?
Evelyn’s face grew hot at the prospect.
She barely knew him, it was true. Yet if the fierce beating of her heart was any indication of lasting love, she knew she would regret a prolonged marriage to Lucius for the rest of her life. If Brock returned her affection, she needed to be available to him as soon as possible.
She shut her diary, giving up on it completely. She stared into the empty cup that was once her tea and wondered when she had finished it. Her foot was tapping rapidly.
When was Lucius going to wake up? And where was Mr. Donnigan?
She waited another few moments before giving up entirely. She was tired of being alone, and she no longer cared that Adele had a headache. If Lucius and Brock were not to make an appearance, she had to speak to someone.
As Evelyn was returning to the stateroom, she passed Lucius in the hall, and his sudden manifestation was most alarming. She had not expected him to appear so soon after she had forfeit any hope of seeing him.
“Mr. Flynn!” she declared, hands dabbing at her cheeks, which had flushed brightly. Eyes wide with surprise, she stood gaping at him.
Lucius felt a little surprised himself. Evelyn looked as though he had stumbled upon her while she was in the process of committing a crime.
“Miss Brennan?”
“Mr. Flynn,” Evelyn began. She worked her jaw and moved her tongue a little, still fumbling for words. She had only just been thinking of him, had only just been planning the end of their marriage. When she was alone, it had seemed like a capital idea; but now that he was standing directly in front of her, she felt a scorching wave of guilt. Was now the best time to confer with him? Perhaps they could set a date for another time, when she was more prepared. But who knew if Lucius could keep an appointment? He never even knew what day of the week it was.
“Miss Brennan.”
Lucius waited, then pursed his lips. If his instincts were correct, this looked like a woman who wanted to talk. If he ran now, he could escape without catching a single word. One could get away with leaving before a conversation began, but once speech was involved, one would be guilty of rudeness.
He was about to take a step when he noticed that Evelyn’s throat was showing. In fact, there was a whole canvas of skin showing just below her throat. Had he simply been unobservant in the past, or was Evelyn wearing another new dress? This one was a dark teal, and there was that black lace again. Had he not been distracted by that strange look on her face, he might have noticed just how stunning she was.
This observation cost Lucius his moment of escape.
“Mr. Flynn, I wanted to speak with you.”
Oh dear.
“Yes, Miss Brennan?”
“In private, if you please.”
Lucius looked down the empty hall.
“On this ship, Miss Brennan, I think where we stand is about as private as it is going to get.”
“Indeed.”
Again, Evelyn grew quiet. Lucius amused himself by examining her dress.
“Is this new?” he asked presently, yanking Evelyn from concentration.
“Is what new?”
“This dress. I have never seen it before.”
“Yes, well, before we got on this ship, we spent little time together. I probably own a hundred dresses you have never seen.”
“Not dresses like this.”
Now Evelyn was perturbed.
“Dresses like what?”
“Well…”
“Dresses like what, Lucius?”
“Dresses that reveal so very much of your… figure.”
Suddenly self-conscious, Evelyn hugged her diary against her chest.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Lucius said, a little disappointed. “They make you look better than I’ve ever seen you.”
“Are you implying that I looked shabby before?”
“No, of course not! All I’m saying is you look quite lovely.”
Evelyn narrowed her eyes at him.
“For God’s sake, Evelyn, it’s a compliment!” Lucius exclaimed, exasperated.
“I want a divorce, Mr. Flynn.”
“Come again?”
“I wish to have our marriage annulled.”
Lucius paused. Did he just hear what he thought he heard?
“Does this have to do with the dress?” he wondered.
“It has nothing to do with the dress!” Evelyn exclaimed. “I have been thinking about it all morning, and I believe it is the best solution for us. We can arrange for it as soon as we arrive in San Francisco. It needn’t take long.”
Lucius took a moment to ponder the gravity of Evelyn’s request while the mood between them grew sober.
“Miss Brennan,” he said, slowly, “
we have no grounds-”
“We have all the grounds we need, Mr. Flynn,” Evelyn countered, her resolve strengthening as her words came with confidence. “This marriage hasn’t been consummated. It was a mistake from the very beginning. Surely you must agree. Already we are pretending it isn’t legitimate. Why not quit the charade and make it a reality? We gain nothing from this marriage, so we might as well cast it aside. It was desired solely by our fathers, one of whom was not even alive to see it through.”
Lucius did not know what to say. In that dress, it was awfully difficult to agree to Evelyn’s proposal. A man would be a fool to let go of such a pretty thing.
“I beseech you to divorce me, Mr. Flynn,” she persisted.
She seemed terribly confident in this scheme, and that irritated Lucius. Who did she think she was to simply cast him off in this way?
“What you suggest is scandalous!” he cried.
“I’m not suggesting. I’m demanding. No one needs to know.”
Lucius searched for some sort of argument.
“God will know!” he presently stammered. It was the best he could come up with in the moment.
“Since when do you give a fig about God?” Evelyn asked, incredulous.
Now it was Lucius’ turn to be offended.
“Now wait just a minute! You cannot say things like that! Of course I give a whole heap of figs about God. Obviously it is you, Miss Brennan, who hasn’t a fig of faith.”
Evelyn gasped.
“Do not insult me, Lucius!”
Lucius was worked up now. He pointed a finger at Evelyn.
“You’ve insulted me, Evelyn! How dare you presume to know anything about me and what I think about God.”
“I have only to witness you breathe to know you care nothing for God.”
Lucius shook his head.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Brennan, I’m sorry. I did not realize that when you speak of God, you are really speaking of yourself. Forgive me for never bowing down and groveling before almighty Evelyn. I suppose I never realized just how absolutely tyrannical you can be. If I had known, I would have never given you a second thought!”
“You are cruel to assume I am as self-righteous as that.”
“Not cruel enough,” Lucius disagreed. He regarded Evelyn with a sudden, bitter taste of dislike. Just his moment’s hesitation was enough to kindle her stubborn will to succeed in this matter. He decided to tickle her pride before disappointing her entirely. “I think I shall divorce you, Miss Brennan. Only I shall not sever this special connection just yet. Why waste any more precious time? In this race for gold, time really is money, and I want as much of it as I can get my hands on. The courts of San Francisco can wait while I establish my claim.”
Liberty Hill (Western Tide Series) Page 8