Stranded With The Marquess (Regency Stories Book 1) Read online

  “Matthew, I mean Lord Albright, these are my parents, George and Susana Browning.” She turned to her parents. “Lord Albright saved me from the shipwreck.”

  “We owe you so much, My Lord,” Mr. Browning said as he grabbed Matthew’s hand and shook it profusely.

  “How will we ever pay you?” Mrs. Browning asked as she took his other hand.

  It was as Mrs. Browning was holding his hand that he looked down and realized that he stood bare-chested out on the street as a crowd of onlookers peered at the spectacle before them. “There is no need to thank me,” he said. “It was Amelia’s quick thinking that kept us safe.” He did not miss the appreciative smile that crossed Amelia’s face at his words. “My apologies for my appearance, as well. I am afraid we lost much during the storm.”

  “Oh, you must tell us all about the shipwreck,” Mrs. Browning said just as Mr. Browning replied, “Think nothing of it, My Lord.”

  Mr. Browning turned to his wife. “We must leave immediately,” he said. “A carriage is already waiting. If we leave now, we can be back in Rotherfield by tomorrow.” He took Amelia by the hand. “We can stop at an inn just outside of Southampton where they can ready a bath for you and find you a decent change of clothes.”

  “Might I have a word with Lord Albright before we go?” Amelia asked.

  Her parents gave her a skeptical look but then nodded in agreement. “Do not dally,” her father said, coughing behind his hand to hide the harsh look he gave Matthew. Amelia would have to set the man straight, for his presumptions must be great, but Matthew was glad she wished to speak to him first.

  When they were as alone as they would ever be on the crowded street, Amelia felt a tear run down her cheek. “I will never forget you,” she said. “Please, give my best to Elizabeth, and may your future be one of happiness and great success.”

  Though Matthew would never deign to weep, especially in public, he came close at that moment, realizing that this would be their final farewell. “And you, Miss Browning. May the happiness you deserve come to you tenfold. I will always remember you and our time together with great fondness.”

  Although they stood a respectable distance apart, Matthew wished he could pull her into his arms for one final embrace as a way to solidify the memory of their time together. However, propriety dictated he keep his distance, so that is what he did, regardless of how much it pained him.

  Mrs. Browning called out to her daughter, and Amelia gave him one more small smile. “Goodbye, Matthew,” she said in a low voice.

  “Goodbye, Amelia.”

  And with that, she walked back to her parents, where they stood beside a carriage that had pulled up while he and Amelia said their goodbyes.

  As the carriage pulled away, Amelia turned to wave at him through one of the small windows. He raised a hand in reply, and then she was gone.

  “My Lord,” George said as he came walking up to stand beside Matthew, “I’m sorry about all this.”

  Matthew studied the man who had been with his family for so many years and smiled. He could find no anger for the drunken captain or the crew of the ship, for the heartache Matthew felt at this moment outweighed any other emotion he could ever feel.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The journey home was long and arduous, or so it felt to Amelia, and as promised, she and her parents had stopped at an inn along the way so she could have a hot bath and a good night’s sleep. As luck would have it, her parents had not asked many questions along the way, giving her the opportunity to catch up on lost sleep. As a matter of fact, she did not realize how tired she truly was until they were not long on the road and she had lain down on the cushioned seat, her head in her mother’s lap, and fallen asleep.

  It was not until the second leg of their journey that they began to inquire about her time in France. Interestingly enough, they did not ask questions about the sinking of The Topaz or her time on the beach, which, amusingly enough, she still referred to in her mind as the time on the island. In response to her time in Calais, the admission that her time there had not gone well was taken in stride, though Amelia could see the satisfaction on their faces, more than likely due to the fact that they had been right in recommending she not go in the first place. However, they gave her the expected amount of outrage for her losses and even had a word or two to say about Patricia and her decision to run off with young Arther Tinsdale.

  “Her mother must be beside herself,” Amelia’s mother said with a disdainful sniff. “I am certainly glad you have a much better head on your shoulders.”

  Amelia had to keep herself from laughing. After what had transpired on the ship and then on the island, though she and Matthew had kept things as proper as they could under the circumstances, she was not sure her mother would have said as much about her as she did about Patricia if she knew even half of what had occurred during the time she and Matthew had spent together.

  Once they arrived home, however, their questions came as a deluge.

  “So, you are telling me that Lord Albright constructed a shelter of sorts from branches he found lying around?” her father asked as he accepted the teacup from her mother. “May I ask where you slept? Or more specifically, where he did?”

  Amelia set her teacup down, quite aware of what her father truly was asking. “His skills in building amazed me,” she explained, though the lie made her want to laugh. “He constructed a wall between us to keep up propriety. Father, I assure you, Lord Albright was a gentleman the entire time we were on that island.”

  Her father snorted. “Island? You mean beach. I still cannot believe that he, a man who is supposed to know so much about ships and navigation, could have shipwrecked on a beach and believe it was an island.”

  “He is not the captain of the ship,” Amelia explained, trying to keep her patience under control. “It is not he who does the navigating. His captain believed they had been blown far off course, as I have explained before.”

  “Well, he would be better off finding a new captain,” he said with yet another snort. At least he had moved the conversation away from the sleeping arrangements. She did not enjoy lying to her parents, but they would never have understood if she had told them she and Matthew had shared what equated to a room—nay, a bed—together and nothing more, or at least not much more. However, the fact she had not told them an outright lie that they had separate rooms did little to comfort her.

  What irritated her most was that it was clear that her father did not trust her. She knew what was decent, and it was not as if she had chosen to be marooned with Matthew. Fate had taken them to that place at that time, and she had little control over what fate chose for her life. All she could do was live as best she could and make decisions based on what was put before her. Granted, she had made a poor choice by kissing the man, but that was the extent of her impropriety.

  Well, that is besides waking up in his arms, her hand caressing his chest…

  It took all of her power to keep herself from dropping her head into her hands and weeping. Oh, if her parents learned of that, there would be no end to their ranting! Maybe they were right in not trusting her, for she had fallen into a trap fate had set for her. Perhaps she needed to tell them the truth and cleanse her soul.

  As luck would have it, however, her father nodded and said, “Very well, then. We are happy you are home with us where you belong.”

  Amelia sighed with relief, glad she had not told more than she had. Doing so would have done nothing but cause her parents more anguish—and Lord Albright, as well. And what good was that when nothing of consequence happened in the first place?

  “Now, do not forget that Harold will be visiting this Saturday. I suspect he has something important to ask you.” Her father walked over and gave her shoulder an affectionate pat, and then with an odd look for her mother, left the room, leaving Amelia and her mother alone.

  Amelia finished her tea and considered what her father had said. He knew very well what Harold wanted to ask, as
much as she did, and the thought of his proposal made her feel ill. Although she hated to admit it, her heart belonged to Matthew, and even if she could not have him, she felt that accepting Harold’s proposal would be a betrayal.

  “Amelia,” her mother said in that tone she used when she had words of wisdom to impart, “I must talk to you about a very important matter.”

  “Of course, Mother,” Amelia said. Her mother, though approaching her fiftieth year, was a beautiful woman, her hair, the same color as Amelia’s, not showing any signs of graying. Amelia cherished every moment with her. The woman had never steered her wrong, and in most situations, she found her advice very helpful. Now, however, she worried what her mother would say. She was certain the woman had plenty to say about how marriage to Harold would be wonderful and that she should forget Matthew.

  Her mother took her hand in her own as she let out a heavy sigh. “There are times when we find ourselves in situations we did not plan, like when you found yourself on that beach. And in those situations, great fear, as well as other emotions, can overtake us.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Amelia said. “I did have fear and worry. However, Lord Albright managed to help me overcome it.”

  Her mother winced at this statement. “Yes. Well. You see, you were clothed only in a shift and he had no shirt…” Amelia went to speak but her mother raised her hand to stop her. “Please, allow me to finish. I can see that he is a handsome man, and you being a vulnerable young woman, scared and dependent upon him, he might have made certain…requests. Perhaps your virtue in exchange for promises of protection?”

  Amelia felt as if her mother had struck her in the stomach. She could do nothing to stop the tears that rolled down her face. The man had saved her life, and her mother, as well as her father, was worried about her virtue remaining intact? Their mistrustfulness was more hurtful than she could have imagined.

  “I see the tears, my darling child,” her mother said as she brushed them away. “Did he force himself upon you?”

  Amelia stood and shook her head. “No, Mother, he did not. You must trust me when I say he remained a gentleman. I do not understand how you could believe either of us would do such a thing.” To have them believe Matthew had crossed such a line was unbelievable. Not only did that put him in a bad light, but it also made her appear a trollop. Everyone knew that a woman who had relations with a man not her husband was blamed more than the man in every instance, even when the woman rejected them. “Without him, I would not have survived the wreck.”

  Her mother stood and kissed her cheek. “I do trust you. Your father and I simply care and wanted to be sure you were safe. There will be no more questions about your time alone with Lord Albright, for brighter times are upon us.”

  Her mother’s words confused her. “How so?” Amelia asked.

  “Why, Harold, of course,” her mother replied with a laugh. “He will come and we know what he is going to ask. Are you not ready with a reply?”

  If her mother only knew what that reply would be, she might not have been as happy. “Yes, Mother, I am.” With Matthew now out of her life, she would have to resign herself to a life with a man she did not love.

  “Good. Now, I want you to continue to rest for the remainder of the day. You have been through a hard time and only rest will see you through it. I will go and let your father know that you had no…negative experiences…while in the presence of the marquess.”

  As her mother walked away, Amelia moved over to the window. She pushed aside her conversation with her parents that spiraled in her mind and wondered what Matthew was doing at that precise moment and where he was. But most of all, she wondered if he was content, for that was her greatest wish for him, even if it left her unhappy with what life had set for her.

  ***

  With his hands clasped behind him and George sniffling beside him, Matthew waited patiently for his uncle’s rebuke. Paul Albright was much like Matthew’s father, the previous Marquess of Brandybrook, a tall man with broad shoulders and the same chiseled chin Matthew had. He had a mop of gray hair and lines around his eyes, yet he was also a reasonable man who listened to all sides to every story before making a final decision. As a principal shareholder in the shipping business, however, Paul looked none too happy as he paced the floor behind his dark oak desk in the library of his Crowborough home.

  “Matthew, your father was an intelligent and capable man,” he said when he stopped his pacing and placed his hands on the desk. “From what I have seen, you are very much like him in many ways. I was not blessed with any sons, so one day, you will be sole benefactor of our shipping line. Soon it will be you who will make the tough decisions when it comes to those in our employ.” He shot George a steely look and then pushed himself away from the desk. “So, in that, what would you like to do about George? Now, remember, I want to hear your reasoning behind your decision, as well. I will not leave my extensive holdings to a man who does not know why he makes a decision.”

  Matthew looked at George out of the corner of his eye. The man wiped at his eyes and his head hung low. The shame the man carried was unmistakable, and although Matthew wanted to strangle him when he learned George had gone on a four-day drinking binge, he knew now how much forcing the man to abandon ship had cost him.

  “George did not want to leave the ship and only did so on my urging,” Matthew explained. “His dedication to our family business is more than anyone could hope for; he is that devoted.”

  “Tis true, sir,” George said with a sniff.

  Matthew placed his hand on the old man’s shoulder and smiled. “It was because of George’s quick thinking that provided a way for Miss Browning and myself to have food and drink, though it was his drinking that had us remain on that beach for longer than was necessary.” He chuckled but stopped when he noticed his uncle’s single raised eyebrow and the scowl on his lips. “That being said, storms in the Channel can be difficult to predict, and after checking with more than one sailor with more years than George has been captain, the chances for that type of storm coming from where it did was a rarity.”

  “I see,” Paul said as he took a seat in the chair at his desk. “So, what should we do with him?”

  Matthew looked at George and smiled. “I believe it is time for you to retire, Captain Lawrence. I feel you have reached a time in your life when all good men put up their feet and rest.”

  George looked at him aghast. “But I don’t want to retire, sir. I love the sea. I know I did wrong, but I can do better. I promise.”

  Matthew considered his words for a moment. The man was a good captain despite everything that had happened. Then an idea occurred to him. “Because it was the storm that had caused the ship to sink and the fact you wished to do your duty and go down with the ship, I believe we might be able to reach an agreement.” He gave George a pointed look, “I believe that George has learned an important lesson about his drinking and has promised not to touch even a single drop unless he is on leave. Is that not right, George?”

  The old, weathered face looked up and a toothless grin spread on his lips. “Tis true, sir.” He raised his hand-granted it was his left rather than his right, but he did so anyway—as if taking an oath. “Never again will I touch a drop of drink, be it on your ships or on the shore. I just ask that you give me the chance to prove it to ya.”

  “Then I recommend that George step down as captain and work on our ship as a captain’s assistant. He has the knowledge that a new captain can use but he is rewarded for his heroism the day the ship sank.”

  Paul leaned back in his chair and studied George for several moments. “Very well, George. I expect you back at the dockyards in Eastbourne tomorrow and you will do whatever is asked of you until I tell you otherwise. There is a new ship I purchased being delivered, and the captain I hired has little experience in the position. I expect it to be ready for service by next week and you will assist the new man when that time comes. Do you think you can do that?”

  �
��Thank you, sirs. Both of you,” George said with one of his low, overexaggerated bows. Then turning, the man left Matthew alone with his uncle.

  “I believe at times you are to be merciful,” Paul said as he pointed to an empty chair for Matthew to take. He poured them each a glass of brandy and handed one to Matthew. “I trust in your judgment, but I hope you have made the right one.”

  “I believe I have. George can be a bit…unconventional. However, he is a good sailor, he gets on well with the crew, and I have never felt unsafe while sailing with him. I believe that with his promise to abstain from drinking while on board.” He chuckled. “I doubt rather highly he’ll be able to keep that promise about not drinking while on shore, but I do not expect him to.” He sighed. “It is too bad, though. He was a good captain.”

  Paul laughed. “With those eyes? I would like to know how he was able to captain even a shipping boat.”

  “He has proven himself these past ten years without a single incident, so perhaps it is simply an innate ability,” Matthew said, although he chuckled as he said it. “Whatever it is, he does well a majority of the time. And as I said before, from my understanding, the storm that came in did not act as a typical storm. I heard that several ships had to change their course.”

  “And why did George not do so?”

  Matthew shrugged. “By the time the storm was upon us, it was too late.” He did not mean to seem to make the matter less than it seemed, but there was little he could do to change the past.

  “Well, at least you have returned. And not only alive but as a hero, as well. From what you have told me, your actions saved not only your own life, but that of Miss Browning.” He raised his glass as if to toast Matthew.

  Matthew had told his uncle about the construction of the shelter, though he left out how Amelia had to rebuild it and make it sound. Nor did he tell him that it was the woman’s bright outlook that had kept his hope alive. As he thought of this, his mind returned to the beach where they had stood looking out over the waters, his arms wrapped around her, and the kiss they shared. At the time it had felt as if it were a kiss of love, but now he wondered if he had taken advantage of her during a desperate time.