Miles Before I Sleep (15 page)

20

Although Miles had sent the sherry to her room, she did not imbibe before bed. Perhaps if she had, the sounds of Clyde Sully being flogged might not have awakened her. The crack of the whip, his screams of pain and pleads for mercy filtered in through the open porthole, forcing her out of bed to close it. Whether real or imagined after that point, Andrea was compelled to pull the pillow over her head to drown out the sounds she still heard. The sound was so horrific; Andrea wanted to run on deck and beg for mercy for him. Had she known it would last as long as it did, she would have.

The next morning, Andrea found herself in a pensive mood.

Miles had ruined everything. She was not going to get a chance to demonstrate to her father that she could run his business. Even if she donned the tweed suit she had sewn, and tried to disappear into the city, her father would soon be there, ready to plaster her face in the newspaper again, and most likely, Miles would be close on her heels. She had lost the only chance she was going to get to prove herself.

She needed a new plan.

Andrea knew her father had gotten where he was by never taking no for an answer. He could be ruthless when it came to business, and she knew when it came to this marriage, he would be the same way. It did not matter that Miles did not believe her father would force her and frankly, even if his cousin refused, Sebastian James was going to choose her husband. The only way she was not going to have to bend to her father’s will was to be married and bedded before her father caught up with her.

She even knew whom she wanted to marry. Andrea put her hand on the wall that separated their rooms. He was always so nice to her and he encouraged her to express her opinions. One person had ever cared what she thought before, only Rita had ever sought her counsel. It certainly did not hurt that Miles Huntington was as fine a specimen of masculinity as she had ever met. He was tall and handsome and he seemed to like her. Dear God, he held her face in his hands and said he wanted her for himself.

As she remember the intense look on his face, her stomach began feeling funny. Did he mean it?

But how, how could she get him to ask her? With any other man, she would just explain her situation, swallow her pride and ask, but she could not ask him. Miles was the cousin of the man she had jilted. They were close friends as well. She could never ask him to betray that. No, if he wanted to marry her, he would have to do the asking. But how?

~*~

Miles Huntington sat in his room staring at the wall that separated his suite from her cabin. What he really wanted to do was tell her
he
was Shamus and suggest they spend the next month getting to know each other to see if they would suit. But he couldn’t do that. Andrea would rather eat oatmeal without sugar because she could select it for herself, than to have a plate of pastries of someone else’s choosing. No, she had to have options. He could not tell her he wanted to marry her—no matter what.

He knew what he had to do—even if he did not like it. He needed to provide her with a variety of suitors. Only if she rejected each of them, could he offer himself to her. Even then, she had to understand it was her choice and she could say no.

If she said no, he’d have a long talk with her father and try to convince him to quit trying to dictate her life—and while he was at it, he’d tell him about the hogwash his wife was telling her. If she picked another man, Miles would pull him aside and tell him also. It made him sick to think a mother would go to such lengths to keep her daughter chaste—not that he knew that was why she did it but what other explanation was there? Sebastian James did not impress him as a cruel or a selfish man, so surely, that was not Lillian’s experience.

At that moment, Miles sent a secret prayer to the heavens that he be the man to teach her the ways of love. Whether it took hours or days to get her ready, he would do it. She deserved her first time to be special and not frightening.

It was so important to him that her first time be good, that he wanted to seduce her just to make sure it was. But he couldn’t do that because that would take away her options.

Miles realized with a start, that Andrea James was the one woman that he would abandon his morals for and cuckold her husband if he did not treat her as he should. Christ, he hoped if she married someone else that she would live in England, so he would never have to see her again. Seeing her and her husband together in social situations, would drive him mad.

Miles crossed his arms and decided he would marry her, even if he had to seduce her. He would offer her a selection, so she would feel like she had choices, but in the end, he could not let her marry anyone else. He could not go through his life not knowing if she were being treated the way she deserved.

~*~

A light knock on the door drew Andrea out of her musings. She opened the door to find a waiter half-bowed over a large silver tray. This was the first time a waiter other than Phillip had brought her meal but with the two sailors posted outside her door, Andrea did not hesitate to let him in.

“Just set it on the table,” she said. “Take the bread pudding and the olives with you. I did not order them. I don’t want them.”

In the two days since the attack, Miles made Phillip add the offending items to her tray at every meal including breakfast.

The tall dark-headed waiter removed the domed cover.

“You must’ve brought the wrong food. There’s enough there for two people.”

Andrea looked at the waiter’s face for the first time and realized Miles had donned a waiter’s uniform to bring her tray. He had also shaved off his beard.

Andrea’s heart skipped a beat. She had forgotten how handsome he was, or maybe he was just handsomer now than he was at twenty-two.

“I was hoping you’d invite me to join you.”

After a moment’s contemplation, she acquiesced. She had been bored and lonesome and afraid to leave her room for fear that people would whisper when they saw her. She wished the attack could have been kept quiet, but she knew people must have seen the broken door. Although Clyde Sully’s flogging took place in the middle of the night, she doubted she was the only passenger who was awakened by his screams of pain.

Miles turned the wing chairs to face the table and carefully removed the dishes from the tray.

“Miss James,” he said, sweeping his hands at one of the chairs.

“Thank you,” she said, taking her seat and smiling at him. She could not help it. She missed him over the past couple of days. After she fled from their quarrel over her mother and his cousin, she had expected to feel uncomfortable with Miles. But he did not act as if the spat had changed anything.

“Are you planning to stay in your stateroom the rest of our journey?” he asked, tilting his head until he drew her eye contact.

“Yes, actually. I think I’ve caused enough problems.”

Miles sighed, but said nothing. He should have known she would take the blame on herself.

“You shaved your beard,” she said casually.

“I was hoping to gain favor with one of the female passengers.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding deflated. She placed her serviette in her lap and tried to make her next question sound conversational rather than probing. “One in particular, or are you just casting your net?”

“You don’t remember telling me you hated my beard?”

Andrea gasped. She had been so embarrassed over the other things she had said, that she had completely forgotten that she told him she hated his beard. Her face grew warm with embarrassment.

“I am never touching sherry again.”

Miles laughed and touched her hand reassuringly.

“Normally, a young lady is allowed to sip it and stop as she begins to feel its effects. It all went to your head at once and being your first time, it hit you hard.”

Andrea nodded as she picked up her soupspoon and took a small bite of her bisque.

“I’m sorry I said bad things about your cousin Shamus. Maybe you should tell me about him.”

“First of all, my cousin’s real name is Rory. The name Shamus—well, let’s just say if you called him Shamus, he won’t answer you.”

“Rory?” Andrea puzzled as she thought back five years. She had forgotten his name nearly as soon as he said it. When she read the letters, the name Shamus did not ring any bells with her. Since Richard’s letter said they had danced together, and she had never forgotten Miles Huntington’s name, she had easily made the connection. “I’m sure that’s probably how he was introduced to me, but that was a long time ago. So, Shamus is a nickname?”

“More of a family joke.”

“I see,” she said, even though she really did not understand.

Andrea set down her spoon, folded her hands in her lap, and stared at her bisque.

“I’m sorry I hurt your cousin’s feelings. I don’t usually say such horrible things.”

“You were upset,” he said. “Your father should have told you before he ever contacted Richard. A little communication would have gone a long way.”

A humorless chuckle escaped her lips. “It would’ve saved you from traveling across the ocean.”

“Or maybe Rory and I would have come sooner to become reacquainted with you before this went so wrong.”

“I doubt it would have helped. I really did not like Rory when I met him. I’m afraid at his first mention of warehouses, I would have walked away and not spoken to him again.”

Miles tried valiantly to stifle his grin. “Poor, Rory. He’s not that bad anymore. He actually has other interests.”

“Such as his mistress?”

Miles sighed. Rory was like a younger brother to him and he did not want to malign him. However, he also did not want to guide Andrea down a path that would lead to his cousin.

“I’ll have you know, neither of us has a mistress at the moment.”

“At the moment? Does that mean
you
had a mistress?” Andrea asked daringly. She could not explain why she was acting so common, but she found it easy to say things to him that she would never dare say to anyone else. Was it the fact that he never seemed shocked, nor acted annoyed by her questions, which emboldened her? Although he sometimes seemed amused by her questions, he never avoided them.

“Would you be shocked if I said that I did?”

She looked at him considering his question. Was it possible to feel jealousy that he was doing
that
with a woman when she had no claim on him, nor any desire to do
that
herself? “Frankly, yes.”

“But you’re not shocked about Rory having one?”

“Not particularly. Your cousin is of average looks and personality….But I find you to be above average in both. It seems to me, there is no reason why you shouldn’t be happily married”

Miles waited until her gaze met his, inordinately pleased that she liked his looks and personality. “I’ve been waiting for the right woman.”

Andrea sighed as she put her bisque aside, and cut into her veal. “Do you suppose there’s someone in the world waiting for me to come along?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “He’s probably someone right in front of your face, but you’re too adverse to the prospect of marriage to see him.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I can’t believe you think I’m adverse to the prospect of marriage. I have always known that I would marry after I finished school.”

He frowned at her as a sudden thought occurred to him. “So why this sudden curiosity about Rory?”

She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. She lowered it back to the plate and met his gaze. “My father did not get where he is by taking no for an answer. If my father wants me to marry him, eventually, he will find a way to make it happen.”

“Be that as it may, Rory would not marry you against your will.”

She ate a bite of her veal before speaking again. “Any man would be a fool to let my inheritance slip through his fingers,” she said firmly. “It won’t be so bad. You’ll still be my friend, won’t you?”

Miles gaped at her, completely confused by her about-face. “After everything you’ve been through, you’re just going to capitulate?”

“Miles, I’ve always known I was not going to be afforded the opportunity of a love match—I don’t even believe in love, to be honest—and since my father seems dead set against me marrying someone with a title, what choice do I have?”

His eyes narrowed at her. What female didn’t believe in love—what human did not believe in love? Was it because she had never experienced it herself that made her doubtful, or was there something else? Did her mother’s guidance scare her from the prospect? But it was the possibility that she had never felt loved that troubled him the most.

Miles put his elbows on the table, interlaced his fingers together and rested his chin on his hands as he regarded her. “So, are you looking forward to being out from under your parents’ thumbs?”

“My parents’ thumbs, my husband’s thumbs. Is there a difference?” she asked airily.

“I suppose it depends upon the husband. You need a husband with no thumbs,” he said, holding his hand out, his thumbs tucked out of sight.