by Diane Gaston
Surely she would remember a man she had agreed to marry. Would that not be the most important decision a woman could make in her life?
Keneagle peered at her, his expression turning shrewd. ‘Of course you agreed to marry Stonecroft. Why otherwise would you have been on the packet to England?’ He darted Lucien a scathing look. ‘If this man has ruined you, tell me now. Otherwise, I will post a letter to Stonecroft this very day and inform him you are alive. We can only hope he will still accept you after this debacle.’
How dare this man accuse Lucien when Lucien had been completely responsible for saving her life?
Her temperature rose. ‘I assure you Captain Roper has been honourable. My virtue is intact.’ She was the one who’d lacked propriety.
Lucien’s eyes blazed at Keneagle. ‘Stop these accusations. Now.’
Keneagle shrugged. ‘What I believe is of no consequence. You had better hope Stonecroft believes your story.’
Lucien broke in, his voice firm. ‘Enough. So you will write to Stonecroft. Will you wait in Dublin or in the country?’
Keneagle’s brows rose. ‘I am not waiting.’ He reached into a pocket and pulled out a purse, shoving it towards Claire. ‘This should pay the way to London for you and the maid.’
The maid? ‘What maid?’ she asked.
He rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, yes. You would have forgotten her, as you say.’ He shoved the purse at her.
She froze. ‘Did—did she accompany me?’ Her heart pounded again. ‘What happened to her?’
Her half-brother huffed. ‘Well, we never heard from her.’
‘She drowned,’ Claire whispered, her insides twisting in pain.
She’d had a maid who likely drowned in the packet ship and she could not even remember her.
Keneagle pulled the purse back. ‘You won’t need all that money, then.’
Lucien reached out and took the purse from his hand. ‘She will need all of this money and more. Everything she’d packed was lost.’
Keneagle opened his mouth as if to protest, but Lucien’s expression brooked no argument.
‘Oh, very well,’ her brother said. ‘I will arrange for a money draft in her name.’
‘See that you do.’ Lucien glared at the man. ‘What of her dowry?’
‘Dowry?’ she cried. She had a dowry?
She’d never thought about it, but certainly, as the daughter of an earl, she’d have a dowry.
Keneagle finally spoke. ‘I will write to the solicitors. Stonecroft will expect a dowry. I’ll see he gets it. Assuming you do marry him.’ He glanced around the room. ‘Customarily I stay at Castle Hotel when in Dublin. Much easier than opening the town house, but this time I prefer the house.’
Her family had a Dublin town house? Had they walked past it in the last couple of days?
Her brother ran a hand through his hair and turned to a table containing his hat and gloves. He picked them up.
He was leaving?
After this meeting, if she never saw him again, she’d be glad of it.
Keneagle pointed to the purse. ‘You make this work with Stonecroft, because the draft I send you and this purse are all the funds you will receive from me.’ He made a mocking bow to her and a more respectful one to Lucien. ‘Good day.’
Claire’s emotions swirled inside her. Anger at her brother’s ill treatment of her and of Lucien. Shock that he so easily washed his hands of her. Anxiety at the prospect of marrying a man she could not remember.
And, worst of all, grief for the maid who had probably died in the shipwreck. The poor maid who, if it had not been for the need to accompany her to London, would never have been on that ship.
It all was too painful to think about.
* * *
Lucien stared at the door through which her brother had departed. ‘What a cursed cur.’
He tried to quiet his rage at Keneagle. The damned man showed no caring of his sister, no compassion for her situation. The man had no honour. No honour at all. He was precisely like the stories Lucien’s mother told of his grandfather.
The Earls of Keneagle must be bred to be miscreants, caring for no one but themselves. Was that Lady Rebecca’s true character, equally as self-centred? He descended into gloom, as if such a transformation had already come to pass.
No matter. She’d already endured much tribulation and now, thanks to her brother, her situation had become even more difficult.
‘Am I to travel to London. To be married?’ She said this more to herself than to him.
Still, the words to be married echoed in his mind.
A marriage of an Irish earl’s daughter to an English baron was probably not the best match in the eyes of society. Why this man? Why not one of the highest rank?
She sighed. ‘At least I will not have to share a house with the Earl of Keneagle.’
Lucien seethed at the mere thought of the man. ‘He came a hair’s breadth from being challenged to a duel.’
‘I almost wish you had,’ she murmured. She seemed to gird herself. ‘So I must travel to London to this Lord Stonecroft, this man I am supposed to marry.’
At least it was an aristocratic marriage. That was as it should be for her. When she recovered her memory, an aristocratic marriage would be the sort she would desire. Among the aristocrats, love and true regard were less necessary than status and dowries and what other aristocrats thought.
‘Well, I suppose I must make arrangements.’ She lifted up the purse, heavy with coin. ‘At least I have funds. Perhaps even enough to repay you.’
‘Keep your money,’ he said too sharply.
She turned her head away.
He’d not meant to snap. God knew he needed to calm down.
He quieted his voice. ‘You might need it.’
She kept her gaze averted.
Suddenly he felt her pain. She’d thought she would be taken back to a place where she belonged, one she might some day remember. Now she was facing more unknowns. Quite alone.
His heart ached for her. ‘I will escort you to London. If you desire it, that is.’
She turned back to him, her eyes glistening. ‘Are you certain, Lucien? I have been such a burden to you.’
He was caught for a moment in those hazel eyes. They’d turned green against her green spencer and the Kashmir shawl. And they glistened with tears. He admired her for trying to put on a brave front.
‘I must travel to London anyway,’ he responded. Although in that moment he would have done anything for her. ‘So it is no burden to escort you. Mr Castle will take care of all the arrangements.’
She lowered her gaze. ‘Lucien, you are too good to me.’
They walked out to the hall and Mr Castle called them over. ‘There is someone else to see you.’ He indicated a man dressed more as a merchant than a gentleman.
The man approached. ‘Lady Rebecca, Captain Roper, I am from the Dublin Journal. Might I have a few moments of your time to interview you about your ordeal?’
Lucien frowned. What next? ‘How did you hear of us?’
The man turned stoic. ‘I cannot say who told me of you. He asked not to be revealed.’
Someone from the hotel? Or the second-hand shop. Or the bank. His bet was on the hotel’s footman, the man who’d scorned them on their arrival because of their clothing.
Lucien turned to Lady Rebecca. ‘Do you wish to speak to a reporter?’
‘I already have the story,’ the man told them. ‘I know you were both passengers on the Dun Aengus and when the ship sank, you were reported lost at sea. Instead a fishing boat picked you up and you were forced to wait until the fishing was over before coming to Dublin.’ He looked sly. ‘The story needs embellishment. It might as well be with the truth.’
Lucien took Lady Rebecca by the arm and led her a short distance away. ‘I will send
him packing if you desire it.’
She shook her head. ‘He will only invent something to write. The truth is better.’
Lucien walked back to the reporter. ‘We will speak with you.’
They returned to the drawing room where the man pulled out a notebook and pencil. ‘Tell me how you survived the shipwreck,’ he began.
Lucien related the tale, ending with their arrival in Dublin.
The reporter turned to Lady Rebecca. ‘How was it for a lady such as yourself, to endure such hardships?’
‘I was so grateful to be alive.’ She spoke fondly of the fishermen and everyone who helped them. ‘I would not be alive if not for Captain Roper. You know who he is, of course. The Captain of the famous Foxfire.’
Lucien wished she had not mentioned that. It would only bring more attention to the story.
The reporter asked for more details about their stay on the fishing boat and they both obliged him with a more respectable version of their stay than the truth.
‘And you are still together?’ the reporter asked, clearly wanting more details.
‘Lady Rebecca is a lady alone,’ Lucien replied. ‘As a gentleman I must see her to where she belongs.’
‘So you will take her back to Keneagle House?’ the man asked.
‘To London,’ Lucien responded. ‘We were both headed to London before the shipwreck.’
That was enough for the reporter to know.
He didn’t need to know about Lady Rebecca’s amnesia. Or how despicably her half-brother had just behaved towards her. Or how close Lucien had come to doing precisely what her brother had accused him of.
Chapter Seven
Mr Castle had booked them passage on a packet ship that was leaving in two days. He’d also arranged for Ella, the maid who’d attended her at the hotel, to attend her on the trip.
How nice it was to have the services of a maid, but each time Ella untied her laces, Claire remembered when Lucien had done so.
How tender he had been. In everything.
So opposite to the thoughtlessness and cruelty of her brother.
Her brother’s letter to Stonecroft would probably arrive a day or two before they reached London. Stonecroft would know she was alive and he would be told she’d show up on his doorstep. Would she be welcome?
How would it be to see this man without remembering him from before? Had she loved him? Was that the reason she’d agreed to marry him? If so, would she still love him even though she couldn’t remember him?
How could she forget a man she loved?
How could she marry a man she could not remember?
What was the use of agonising over this? What other choice did she have? She must marry him.
Unless he refused her, that was.
What would she do if Stonecroft, like her half-brother, believed her ruined merely because Lucien rescued her? What if it became known she and Lucien had shared a cabin on the fishing boat?
Her head ached with these thoughts that had swirled around her mind throughout the two days until the carriage picked them up at the hotel to take them to the packet boat.
The carriage left them off at the dock which was a jumble of sailors, passengers and wagons filled with boxes and barrels and chests.
The maid had gone ahead in another carriage and would meet them at the packet ship with their luggage.
Claire took Lucien’s arm to navigate the commotion at the docks. The rough seamen they passed reminded her of the fishermen. How she wished they were both back on the fishing boat with them. She’d been happy on the fishing boat.
She gazed at the bustle on the dock to the ship they were to board. She must have been here once before, but she could not remember it.
Ella, the maid, waited at the gangplank, a young man at her side.
The young man removed his hat.
Ella curtsied.
Ella and the young man were together, Claire realised, and the exact opposite in looks. Ella was fair with almost white-blonde hair and light blue eyes. The young man was black-haired, dark-eyed and swarthy.
Ella spoke. ‘M’lady, sir, your luggage is on board.’ She glanced nervously at the young man. ‘This is Cullen. Rory Cullen. My—my friend. We have something to ask of you. I pray you’ll hear him out.’
‘Cullen.’ Lucien nodded kindly. ‘What do you have to ask us?’
The young man straightened. ‘I wish to go with Ella.’ He spoke with determination. ‘I offer my services as your valet, sir, for the time of the trip or as long as you will have me. I ask only for passage over and I will repay that as soon as I am able.’
‘We want to stay in England,’ Ella added. ‘There are good jobs there and Cullen is a hard worker. He will do well.’
Claire heard the yearning in the voices of the young couple. They wished to be together, not separated by the Irish Sea. She turned to Lucien, ready to plead their case, ready to pay for the young man herself, if necessary.
‘You may very well meet my needs, Cullen,’ said Lucien. ‘I have no valet.’
Both the maid and her young man broke into smiles.
‘I have already ascertained that there is a berth for me, the cheapest, as well,’ Cullen said.
‘Only one thing—’ Lucien said.
The young couple’s smiles dropped.
‘If you do work for me, then I must pay you.’
Their smiles returned.
Ella gave Cullen a worshipful look. ‘It was Cullen who saw to your luggage. He knows exactly what to do in everything.’
‘Then we are already indebted.’ Lucien gestured with his arm. ‘Shall we board?’
Claire smiled as well, infected by their happiness.
They boarded the ship and made their way to their cabins. Claire’s cabin was near Lucien’s. Ella and Cullen said theirs were not far.
Ella followed her into her cabin. ‘Shall I unpack anything, m’lady?’
Claire shook her head. ‘Not for one night.’
Her portmanteau was already in the cabin. Thanks to Lucien, she also had a small trunk with her other clothing stowed in the hold.
‘I really do not need you now,’ she said. ‘Not until bedtime. Please do as you wish.’
Ella’s eyes widened. ‘Are you certain, m’lady?’
Claire stifled a smile. ‘Yes. Do as you wish. I am going on deck. I like to watch the ship leave the harbour.’ She felt a chill rush up her spine.
How did she know she liked to watch the ship leave the harbour? Had she remembered it?
She hurried up on deck.
Lucien stood at the railing near the stern of the ship.
She rushed over to him. ‘I think I had a memory.’
He turned his entire attention on her. ‘A memory? Of what?’
‘Nothing of consequence.’ It was a very small thing. ‘I remembered that I like to watch the ship leave the dock.’
He smiled, but his eyes remained serious. ‘Perhaps this is a start.’
‘Yes.’ But she suddenly did not feel any enthusiasm. She leaned against the railing and watched Dublin recede. ‘But I do not precisely remember ever watching a ship leaving the dock.’
He gazed back at the dock, as well. It was still as busy as when they had been there.
‘I remember you watching the ship sail. On the Dun Aengus,’ he said. ‘You stood at the railing, much like this. You jumped away when the sea sprayed you with water.’
She had no memory of this.
‘You wore a grey cloak with a hood covering your head,’ he went on. ‘And I did not see your face until I met you again in the companionway.’
It warmed her that he had noticed her then.
She sighed. ‘So it was almost a memory. I must have been on deck because I like to watch the ship leave the dock.’
‘It very well could be,’ he agreed.
Ella and Cullen emerged from the hatch and walked to the bow of the ship.
How ironic that they’d aim their sights on where the ship was headed, while she watched where it had been. They were filled with optimism for their future, whereas she could only look upon her future with dread. And she had no past at all.
Until she woke up in Lucien’s arms on a raft in this very sea.
She scanned the sky. ‘It looks like a clear day.’
Had the sky been clear when she’d stood on the deck of the Dun Aengus? she wondered. She closed her eyes and tried to remember. When had the storm started? Had she been frightened? Had all the passengers been frightened, even all those poor passengers who’d drowned?
‘No storm clouds,’ she added.
‘This should be an easy crossing,’ Lucien assured her. He had already examined the skies and the rigging and the ship’s Captain and crew. He was taking no chances with this voyage.
She closed her eyes and they fell silent for a time.
She opened them again. ‘I just tried to recall the other crossing. Or the storm. Or being swept overboard. I can’t remember.’ She shuddered. ‘I only remember waking up on the water.’
That was terror enough, Lucien thought.
She turned and glanced at her maid and his new valet.
‘Look at how happy they are!’ She turned back to him. ‘Thank you so much for agreeing to hire him.’
He shrugged. ‘I had no desire to crush their hopes.’
‘You saw what I saw, then?’ she said. ‘That they belonged to each other?’
‘It was clear as a windless sea.’ He even envied them a bit. A lot.
‘I hope life will be kind to them,’ she said wistfully.
Life had already been kind to them. They’d found each other and they had the foresight to know it would not do to be separated. ‘They’ll have the strength of being together.’
‘But life could still be cruel to them,’ she said.
‘Having each other will make up for much.’
She gave him a quizzical look. ‘I did not realise you possessed such romantic notions.’
He’d talked of this on the raft.