Stranded With The Marquess (Regency Stories Book 1) Page 5

  The old man gave a gravelly chuckle. “Tea house? Ain’t none hereabouts. If you got time, you could try Mrs. Humpton’s. It’s about twenty minutes’ walk from here down that way.” He pointed a gnarled finger in the opposite direction.

  “Oh. Well, thank you, sir. Again, I appreciate the information.” She turned back, deciding that maybe returning to The Topaz would be in her best interest. She did not have time to walk to Mrs. Humpton’s, and the uphill climb had been more strenuous than she had expected. At least she had the chance to see the area, for what it was worth, which was not all that much. If she had had more time, she was certain the portal town had much more to offer, but with only an hour to spare in all reality if she was to return before the ship set sail, she was limited to what the dock area had to offer.

  The wind picked up as she made her way back down the street, the return trip less arduous as now she was heading downhill. At one point, her hood blew off and she pulled it back up, now worried they would not be able to leave at all as what had originally been planned.

  “You weren’t gone long,” Captain Lawrence said upon her return.

  “No. Unfortunately, I could not find a shop I wished to visit, and with the coming storm, I felt it best if I returned to the ship.”

  Captain Lawrence gave her a confused look. “Storm, Miss?” He glanced around him. “This ain’t no storm. Just a light breeze. Nothin’ at all to worry about.”

  Amelia felt a bit better. Lord Albright had said this man was well experienced in his position, and though the Marquess could be a trickster at times, she trusted him on this issue. Somehow she could see he was an overall decent man. “Well, that is good news.” She glanced over and saw Lord Albright walking up the gangplank. He was the last person she wished to see, so she quickly added, “Well, I believe I will go below, Captain.”

  “And for dinner? Will you be joinin’ Lord Albright tonight?”

  “I do not believe so,” Amelia replied, hoping to be below deck before the aforementioned man was aboard. “I would like dinner delivered to my room, if you do not mind.”

  The man gave her one of his comical sweeping bows. “Of course, Miss. Whatever you wish. Tonight it’ll be a nice cod I caught myself while you were out and about, with turnips and Oxford dumplings.”

  She had to stifle a giggle when an image came to mind of the poor man with the crooked eyes fishing off the side of the ship and bringing in fresh cod in the process. What happened in her scenario ended with a ship’s captain being pulled back into the ship by the crew as water dripped from his clothes. “That sounds very nice,” Amelia said even as she began walking away. “I look forward to such wonderful fare.”

  As she made her way down the ladder, she thought she heard Lord Albright call out to her, but as her turn of luck would have it, the wind picked up and pushed the hood of her cloak forward, giving her the opportunity to deny having heard the man. She had only two more days before she was to disembark in Dover, and if she could keep away from him, then the temptation would not be an issue. However, if she found herself in his company even for a short time, she worried what it would do to her sensibilities, for she found the allure of the man much too irresistible.

  ***

  Matthew ground the palm of his hand into his forehead as he watched the dockworkers handle the heavy crates. “Watch it, you fools!” he shouted when a corner moved precariously in one of the man’s hands. “If even one teacup has the tiniest of cracks, I will be back to collect my loss for your clumsiness!” He despised the need to shout at these men, but he had been paid a goodly amount to bring this cargo safely back to Dover, and he never once went back on his word to protect whatever treasures his clients needed to be shipped.

  The words had the men gripping the edges of the crate tighter and watching their steps better, although the scowls on their faces deepened. Matthew sighed. “And if you get it loaded in good time without any damage, I will buy your first pint.”

  This added a spring the dockworker’s steps—a careful spring, to be sure—but they moved a bit faster and suddenly found their load to be less burdensome somehow. The scowls wiped from their faces and they responded with a quick “That’d be fine, sir!” and “We’ll get this work done without even a single nick on a single saucer!”

  This was how a good man ran a business. One did not need whips and threats to get the best work out of those who he employed. If one made clear his expectations and offered a bit of extra compensation, those who did the labor not only worked harder but they also completed their duties in better spirits, thus giving more attention to a job well done.

  The lilt of a woman’s voice came to Matthew’s ear and he turned to see Miss Browning on the deck talking with George. He could not hear what she was saying, but he certainly could not allow the opportunity to speak with her to pass him by. A deep desire to clear up their misunderstanding gripped him, and he knew he needed to make one last attempt to right the wrong.

  Unfortunately, the gangplank was blocked by a large crate and four muscled men, one on each corner, and he watched in frustration as Miss Browning and George continued their conversation. He willed the dockworkers to move faster, but he also did not wish them to drop their burden, leaving him with broken porcelain to explain to the owners. Thus he stood waiting, his foot tapping on the weathered plank as his eyes moved from the men who blocked his way to Miss Browning and back once more.

  It seemed an eternity before the last man moved from the gangplank to the deck, which was just as Miss Browning and Matthew locked eyes. Her face took on a surprised expression. She made a quick comment to George, and before Matthew had a chance to take a step onto the deck, she was gone.

  Matthew sighed as he walked up to George, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Apparently, he had learned that stance from the great captains of England, or so he had said at one point during the many years Matthew had known him. How the man could tell such tales! “What were you and Miss Browning discussing?” he asked as if the answer did not matter to him.

  “Oh, the weather. She’s worryin’ about the wind pickin’ up, but I told her it’d be fine.”

  Matthew looked up at the gathering clouds. He could not blame the woman for her concern, for he, himself, had wondered about the safety of setting sail. “And you still believe the storm will pass?” he asked.

  “Aye,” George replied. “I’ve seen enough of the weather to recognize where it’s goin’. I’ve better faith in that than in those men over there carrying that crate.”

  Just as the words left his lips, a thumping sound followed by a loud splash made Matthew turn and stare in horror at one of the dockworkers thrashing in the water below and the man who had taken the corner in his side on his knees, all of the weight of the crate on him.

  “Tis alright there, sir!” the kneeling man grunted. “I saved it.”

  “Can’t say the same for poor Sam down there,” one of his companions said with a laugh just before he, too, lost his balance and landed in the water with a heavy splash. The two remaining men lowered the crate to the ground and wiped the sweat from their foreheads.

  “Not to worry! We’ll get that pint yet!”

  Matthew gave them a careful glare, but there was little fire behind it after such a spectacle. “Not a scratch, or no pints for any of you!”

  This had the two men in the water swimming—or making a pretense at swimming, Matthew doubted they had ever learned to actually make a single stroke—toward the docks to return to their places. Matthew had no doubt they would get the crate, the last of the cargo that was to be loaded, on board without an issue. From his understanding, that particular box contained a pair of iron busts, so even if the men dropped it, it was doubtful any damage would come of it. However, he was not going to let them know that. It would only make them take less care in bringing it on board.

  “It appears we will be setting out on time this afternoon,” Matthew told George.

  “Aye, sir,” George
replied. “I’d say we’ll set off in about half an hour at the most.” He turned to leave and then stopped. “Oh, and I asked Miss Browning ‘bout dinner. She said she’d rather eat in her room. I guess my advice didn’t work, eh?”

  “No, George, it certainly did not.” He patted the man on the back. “But I appreciate it nonetheless.”

  “Of course, sir,” the man said as he straightened his stance, as if Matthew had given him some sort of great praise. “I know a lot about women, you know. Just give Miss Browning time to cool off and she’ll be ready to accept yer apology.”

  Matthew laughed. “I thought you said I should not apologize?”

  “Well, of course you have to apologize,” George replied, askance. “Ain’t it always our fault?”

  “I suppose it is at that,” Matthew said with a chuckle. Time spent with George was never dull to be sure.

  “Well, I’d best be gettin’ these men to work. If I wasn’t on them all the time, we’d never get outa here.”

  “I imagine not,” Matthew said as he tried to hide a smile. No, never a dull day in this man’s company.

  Chapter Six

  Amelia woke with a start when her now empty dinner plate crashed to the floor, glad she had not insisted on using the good porcelain they had used when she dined with Lord Albright that first evening. The boat leaned precariously to one side, and though she had little experience on the sea, she worried that The Topaz would topple over and she with it. To her horror, the goblet which had contained her wine slid across the bureau and rolled into the corner with a heavy clunk.

  Sleeping had alluded her for many hours, guilt over how she had addressed the situation with her host plaguing her. On the onset, it had been she who had taken the first step to engage in a kiss, and when he came to apologize for what had been in all honesty a fault of hers, she had rebuffed him. His final attempt to right the discord between them had been the heaviest charge she carried, for she had told him to bear the burden that should have been hers. There was no doubt the man had roguish tendencies, for his bantering behavior had been just that and should have been seen as such. Why she had allowed him to annoy her, she knew not. The strange thing was, in most circumstances she would have found him most entertaining, but there it was. She most certainly had been the fool.

  “Or was this all part of his plan?” she had mumbled to herself over her wine. Had it all been a ruse to tempt her with his words and actions? Perhaps he hoped she would succumb to his smile or the manner in which his eyes glinted when he spoke. That had to be it, the man was a seducer of innocent women such as herself.

  And yet, she had considered, he had tried to rectify the problem.

  “Oh, this is all so confusing!” Those were her last words she had mumbled with a deep yawn before sleep had finally taken over her.

  Now, however, she lay wide awake, sleep chased so far away she doubted it would return. Her eyes felt as large as her face as the ship once again righted itself only to lean the opposite direction, sending the goblet across the floor to the other side of the small cabin where it hit that wall. Amelia was glad she did not have a weak stomach or her dinner would have been on the floor with the dinnerware.

  She pulled herself from the bed and held onto the edge of the bunk. Even though she had a strong continence, it was no guarantee that she would not succumb to some sort of seasickness if she remained in such an enclosed space. She wrapped her dressing gown around her shift, holding onto the wall to keep herself from falling, and then opened the door to peek down the hallway. No one was about, but she imagined that the crew was aboveboard attempting to keep the vessel safe. The other passengers who had been on The Topaz when it left Calais had disembarked in Portland, thus leaving her as the only passenger besides Lord Albright.

  Her first goal was to find the marquess or the captain and ask the condition of the voyage. When she arrived at the small dining room where they had eaten that first night, she found it empty. That meant the man had to be above deck with the crew, so she held onto the walls and made her way to the hatch. At the bottom of the ladder, she took a deep breath before stepping onto the first rung as the ship once again heaved to one side. It took longer to get to the top than it typically did, for each time the ship lurched, she clung to the ladder until it righted itself once again.

  Rain had yet to fall, but the waves that occasionally swept over the side rails sent water trickling across the deck. Amelia pulled herself from the hatch and grabbed a nearby mast to keep herself from flying off into the roiling waters below. What had she been thinking coming up onto the deck in this weather? Was she mad?

  Well, it was too late to change course now, so she glanced around until she saw Lord Albright shouting at several of the crew, his words swept away by a gust of wind. When he saw her, his eyes widened and he rushed toward her.

  “Miss Browning!” The words could barely be heard above the waves hitting the sides of The Topaz. “Do not come any closer! Let me escort you!” The ship rocked again, yet the man walked with relative ease. That is to say that he did not stop to clutch a nearby mast until the ship stopped rocking as Amelia was doing at this moment.

  When he arrived at her side, he offered her his arm and she immediately took it. If he could be above deck without worry, then she could, as well.

  “Are you ill?” he asked, concern etching his features. “I realize this storm may appear much stronger to someone who is not accustomed to sea travel.”

  She gave him a derisive sniff. “I am quite fine, sir,” she replied, though her tone lacked the aloofness she wished. Then the ship lurched the opposite direction, sending her straight into Lord Albright’s arms, her breasts pressed up against his chest in a very inappropriate manner that sent heat through her body. They stood in each other’s arms for several moments until the ship righted itself once again. “Now, if you will remove your hands from my person, I would be much appreciative.”

  He gave her a mischievous grin but released her only to catch her by the arm once again to keep her from flailing across the deck when the ship rocked port side. “You might want to go back down below, Miss Browning. It is not safe on deck at the moment for someone who is not skilled in walking the deck in such weather.”

  She lifted her chin as she removed herself from his grip and straightened her dressing gown… She gasped. She was in her dressing gown, on deck with a man practically embracing her! This thought had her pulling the gown tighter just as the ship tilted starboard, and this time she was thankful for the supporting hand that attached itself to her arm. She grabbed hold of his arm for support, uncertainty now gone. She would set aside all propriety for the time being, which was the only intelligent thing to do.

  “I only have hold of your arm for balance and nothing more,” she explained, though she wondered if she was saying it for her own benefit more than for his.

  “I understand,” he said, a small smile playing at his lips. “I would not consider it as anything more than just that.” He looked out over the side of the ship. “It is a shame visibility is so low. There is a small island in that direction.”

  She peered into the darkness. Visibility was indeed low, for she could not even see the waves beyond those that washed over the ship from time to time. At least it was not as precarious as she had first thought if the marquess was standing on the deck as if he were standing on land. Granted, he had warned her not to be above deck, but she was also not a frequent passenger on a ship. At that moment, what she did consider was that he was telling her one of his exaggerated stories, for she knew of no islands off the southern coast of England.

  Unless they have gone well off-course! Panic rushed through her as she glanced about her. The stars, which she understood guided sailors through the waters, were hidden behind the ominous clouds. Perhaps it was as she feared, they had sailed out into the Atlantic Ocean!

  Oh, for goodness’ sake, Amelia thought to herself. Get a hold of yourself this instant. She had been through a harrowing experienc
e in Calais; why did she believe this was any different? Because no one knows what truly lives beneath the surface. The thought made her shiver.

  Lord Albright must have mistaken her shiver as chills. “Miss Browning, maybe you should go below deck where it is warmer. I have duties I need to attend to.”

  “Yes, perhaps I should,” she said, looking down at her dressing gown once again. “And My Lord?”

  “Yes?”

  “About that first night.”

  “What of it?”

  “I accept your apology,” she said firmly. “Perhaps it was the wine in both of us, but it no longer matters. I wish you and Elizabeth much joy in the future.” She did not understand how saying those words hurt her heart, for she truly did wish him well, but hurt they did.

  The smile he gave her was warm. “Thank you for your kind words,” he said. “I also wish the best to you and Harold in the coming years.”

  The reminder of her upcoming proposal had a greater effect on her than the movement of The Topaz, and it upset her stomach all the more.

  “You look unwell,” he said with concern. “Can I get you anything?”

  Droplets of rain began to tap the deck as thunder boomed in the distance. What she wanted to tell him was that, yes, he could get her something. A new dream. The dream she currently had for happiness would soon be gone once she accepted Harold’s proposal. Yet, it was a foolish request to make of the man who stood before her, for he was to marry soon, as well.

  Rather than voicing what was on her heart, she replied, “I believe I will retire to my cabin now.” She went to turn away but stopped, her heart telling her she also had a task to complete. “I also wish to apologize for my actions that evening,” she added, hoping he could hear the sincerity in her voice above the wailing of the wind.

  As she turned back toward the hatch, he reached out and caught her arm. “Tomorrow we dock in Dover,” he said, a huskiness to his voice. “Do you have passage home? I am heading in that direction and would be happy to offer you a place in my carriage.”