Duke of a Gilded Age (14 page)

Wesley crossed to the far side of the ship as it skirted Brooklyn on its way to Lower Bay. The cheerful sunshine that had heralded their departure had disappeared, blocked by dark clouds rolling in. Erratic gusts of wind threatened to blow his hat over the side of the railing, so he removed it and held it in his hand. As the ship cleared Rockaway Peninsula, the ship’s bell tolled the half-hour. Belle joined him.

“It looks like stormy weather ahead, but I overheard one of the stewards saying the tide is in our favor,” she said. “As soon as we’re on the other side of the Sandy Hook lighthouse, it will be full steam ahead.”

“That’s good news.”

“Are you terribly sad to be leaving New York?”

He glanced at Belle, whose pretty features were etched with concern.

“Not really. Since my father died, I can’t think of a happy memory…until this past week.”

“I take that as a compliment,” she replied with a smile. “You didn’t have a sweetheart in Brooklyn, did you?”

“Er…I was rather fond of Liam Kennedy’s younger sister for a while, but after he turned against me, so did she.”

“Oh, dear. Since you’re now a duke, I expect Miss Kennedy will never let her brother forget you, will she?”

Wesley laughed. “I hadn’t thought of it, but you’re quite right. She has a redhead’s temper, so it may be some time before Liam receives a kind word from her.”

“That notion should lighten your mood! Listen, I’m going to my cabin to freshen up and I’ll see you at the captain’s
bon voyage
reception in the saloon.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Wesley watched Belle walk away. A gust of wind lifted the hem of her skirt, revealing her slender ankles. He rather enjoyed the spectacle until he noticed Stephen Van Eyck watching Belle too.

In her cabin, Belle removed her hat, unpinned her windblown hair, and brushed it vigorously. She twisted her tresses into a loose coil, secured it with hairpins and a tortoiseshell comb decorated with moonstones, and examined the effect in the looking glass. Unbidden, a question popped into her mind.
Does Wesley think I’m pretty?
It was doubtful, if his taste ran to temperamental, red-headed Irish girls. Belle frowned at the mirror. Her complexion and straight teeth were praiseworthy, she’d been told, but she had a pair of dreaded dimples to deal with. Stephen Van Eyck had flirted with her, but Belle couldn’t help but think he would flirt with any girl he came across. Oddly enough, Wesley Parker wasn’t a flirt, and had never mentioned her looks, but when she was with him, Belle felt prettier than she ever had before.

The roll of the Atlantic Ocean made itself known as she left her cabin and ascended the stairs to the saloon deck. The soreness in her muscles made it difficult to move effortlessly, so she kept a firm grip on the handrail. As she approached the saloon, the sound of music and laughter floated into the hallway. An unaccustomed fit of shyness slowed her pace. For some strange reason, however, Cavendish flashed into her mind. He was a mere valet, but his carriage and demeanor bespoke a far grander heritage.
If Cavendish can manage to pull off a regal attitude, then so will I.
Belle lifted her head and sailed into the dining hall as if she were a princess.

Captain Howe stood just inside the wide glass doors, greeting his first class passengers with affable charm. Although her legs screamed in protest, Belle managed a creditable curtsy. Unfortunately, the ship chose that exact moment to pitch to the side. Her muscles were unable to compensate for the sudden movement, and she tumbled over. A gasp of horror went up throughout the hall, accompanied by several titters. Embarrassed, Belle wanted to die on the spot. She contemplated crawling under a table, but Stephen Van Eyck rushed forward, dropped to one knee, and offered Belle his hand. “I must say, Miss Oakhurst, that was quite an entrance. Will you allow me to assist you?”

“Thank you, Mr. Van Eyck,” she managed.

Her face flaming, Belle took his hand and got to her feet. The surrounding onlookers burst into applause, which coaxed a smile to her lips.

“Are you injured, miss?” Captain Howe asked.

“Only my pride, Captain.”

“I’m afraid we may be in for some rough seas,” the captain said.

“I’ll try to make the best of it, sir,” she said.

Stephen offered Belle his arm and led her into the reception.

Wesley gnashed his teeth as he hastened over to Stephen and Belle.
It should’ve been me to help, not that smug New England swell!

“Are you all right, Miss Oakhurst?” he asked.

“I’m humiliated, but beyond that I’m perfectly fine,” she replied, still flustered. “I blame the Statue of Liberty.”

Wesley laughed despite himself.

“What?” Stephen asked, bewildered. “Did I hear you correctly?”

“Wesley and I climbed to her crown yesterday and I, for one, am a bit worse for wear,” she said.

Louise approached, her eyes shining. “Annabelle, that was brilliant!” she exclaimed. “Everybody is talking about you, and how gallant Stephen was just now.”

“You mean they are laughing at me,” Belle said.

“Perhaps some were, at first. But now ladies will now be falling over at the slightest wave, hoping for rescue.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. It was all very bad timing.” Belle looked around. “Is my father here?”

“Not yet, nor my mother,” Wesley replied. “I’m sure they’ll both be along directly.”

Her composure slightly recovered, Belle was finally able to take in her surroundings. The magnificent two-story saloon had a barrel ceiling of stained glass skylights, sixty-three feet long and twenty-five feet wide. Two rows of long tables stretched from one side of the room to the other, flanked by upholstered mahogany swivel chairs attached to the floor. In between the long tables was a wide carpet runner. Smaller alcoves, complete with ocean view portholes, lined either side of the hall. These alcoves were fitted with smaller tables for family or group dining. Altogether, three hundred diners could be accommodated at once. Dark, gleaming woodwork defined the lower half of the dining room. Up above, the woodwork had been painted ivory to give a light, soaring look to the hall. Directly over the spot where Belle had fallen, on the second story, was a small glassed-in bay window where the drawing room looked out over the saloon.

“This is very elegant,” Belle said, as she admired the turquoise, amethyst, and topaz colors in the stained glass ceiling. “Except for the movement of the ocean, I’d suppose this was a five star hotel.”

Arrangements of food had been set up on the sideboards bracketing the doorway. Waiters were circulating with trays of drinks, as well as pots of coffee and tea. Belle’s stomach gurgled with hunger.

“Shall we get something to eat?” she suggested.

“Make yourself comfortable, Miss Oakhurst, and I’ll fix you a plate,” Stephen said.

“How kind of you,” she replied.

A muscle quivered in Wesley’s jaw. “I’d be happy to oblige, Miss Van Eyck.”

Louise beamed. “Thank you ever so much.”

Wesley and Stephen departed for the sideboards. As Belle and Louise headed for a booth, Mrs. Van Eyck crossed their path.

“I hope you are uninjured, Miss Oakhurst?” Mrs. Van Eyck asked. “You took quite a tumble.”

“Yes, thank you. I’m recovered now,” Belle said.

“Louise informs me your grandfather is a baronet. I’d like to hear more about him at some point.”

Belle covered her dismay with a smile. “I look forward to chatting with you, Mrs. Van Eyck.”

“Excellent. Please excuse me.”

Mrs. Van Eyck joined a group of ladies at a table nearby, and Belle and Louise settled into an unoccupied booth.

“Mama has noticed Stephen likes you,” Louise said. “Expect to be vetted.”

Belle was taken aback. “I should hope he likes me well enough, but as a friendly acquaintance. He knows I’m engaged.”

“Stephen didn’t offer to get me food and he’s my elder brother!”

“He’s all politeness, I’m sure.”

“I don’t think that’s it.”

As Stephen and Wesley returned with plates of food, the ship’s movement caused them to stagger a bit along the way. Stephen put a plate in front of Belle and sat across the table from her with a plate of his own.

“This is lovely, thank you Mr. Van Eyck.” Belle picked up a scone, still warm from the oven.

Wesley set Louise’s plate down. “I didn’t know what you liked, Miss Van Eyck, so there’s a little bit of everything.”

“Thank you, Wesley,” she said, giving him a pretty smile.

“My pleasure.”

“The storm has picked up,” Stephen said. “I could barely keep my footing a few moments ago.” He folded a moist piece of lemon cake into his mouth.

“I expect the waves will soon confine many people to their cabins, fighting seasickness,” Belle said.

“I feel fine so far,” Wesley said.

“Me too.” Louise helped herself to a triangular sandwich with visible layers of mustard and delicate, thinly sliced pink ham. “In fact, I’m starving.”

A waiter stopped by their table with glasses of ice water. A woman, her face quite green, suddenly hurried past with a handkerchief pressed to her lips. She rushed from the room, followed by a worried-looking gentleman Belle presumed to be the woman’s husband.

“The first casualty of the night?” Wesley murmured.

Stephen chuckled. “Probably not the last.”

“We all may find ourselves knocked flat before it’s through.” Wesley picked up a crustless minced roast beef sandwich.

“Let’s hope for the best,” Belle said. She glanced over her shoulder, a worried expression on her face.

“Miss Oakhurst, is there something wrong?” Wesley asked.

“I’m concerned about my father. He should’ve been here by now.”

“You’re right,” Wesley said. “That goes for my mother, too.”

He beckoned to a waiter. “I’m the Duke of Mansbury. May I ask someone to inquire after Mr. Oakhurst and Lady Frederic?”

“Right away, Your Grace.”

The waiter managed to hasten from the room despite the rising and falling floor.

“That was very thoughtful, Wesley,” Belle said.

Stephen cleared his throat. “I’ll be happy to check on your father personally, Miss Oakhurst, if you give me his cabin number.”