The Perfect Wife (18 page)

“But, Mother, what about Brighton? I adore Brighton, and I imagine Erick does—” Abruptly, she smiled. “Mother, now you’re teasing me.”

Sabrina grinned back. “Not entirely, my love.” Her affectionate tone turned brisk. “Now that we have dispensed with your concerns, I don’t believe you’ve quite explained what you’re doing here. I left you in London, and I very much anticipated that you would remain there until my return.”

Belinda stepped away from her parent. “Why, Mother, surely it’s obvious why we came after you?”

“No, it’s not. I require some kind of explanation, and I expect it to be more than adequate. I am not especially pleased to see you here.”

“Very well, Mother,” Belinda said, in that irritating I-know-far-more-than-you-do voice guaranteed to set Sabrina on edge. “We came because ...” Belinda’s gaze wandered over her mother’s figure. “What are you wearing?”

Her face froze in horror. “Do you have on breeches? That’s scandalous, Mother, absolutely scandalous. I simply cannot—”

“Wait till you hear her language. It’s just as atrocious as her clothing.” Nicholas strode toward them, Erick a scant step behind him. “Good day, Belinda. So charming to see you again.”

“You!” Belinda’s eyes flashed and she whirled to face her mother. “He’s why we followed you. We’re here to try and salvage your reputation. To save you from him!”

Astonishment swept her breath away and Sabrina could barely choke out the words. “You came to save me? From him? Why on earth would you deem a rescue so necessary you’d follow us halfway around the world?”

“Why indeed?” Nicholas raised an amused brow.

Belinda glared at him. “Mother, perhaps you were unaware of this, but Lord Wyldewood has a rather unsavory reputation with women.” Belinda drew herself up in an attitude of imposing propriety. “To put it bluntly, Mother, the man’s a rake.”

The absurdity of the situation hit Sabrina like a fist. Her gaze caught Nicholas’s and his eyes twinkled.

“So you hoped to save me from becoming his next victim? From succumbing to his notorious charms? From sharing his bed?”

Belinda blushed at her mother’s blunt words. “Exactly.”

“I commend you for your concern about your mother’s virtue,” Nicholas said. “However, I fear you are too late.”

“Nicholas,” Sabrina said sharply. This discussion was headed in a direction she was not at all sure she liked.

The color swept from Belinda’s face. “Too late?”

“Yes, indeed.” Nicholas shook his head sorrowfully. “Had I only known of your concern, I would have restrained myself. As it is ...”

“Oh, dear.” Belinda swayed on her feet.

Nicholas shrugged. “And if I recall, your mother did not seem particularly reluctant to accept my advances.”

Sabrina groaned. “Bloody hell.”

Belinda gasped. Erick leapt forward and wrapped a steadying arm around his
fiancé‘s. “Father, that’s not at all the kind of thing you should be saying to her. She’s quite delicate, you know.”

Nicholas grinned wickedly. “I am sorry. I had no idea. I assumed she was as ... well... sturdy as her mother.”

“Nicholas!” Sabrina cast him a scathing glare, and he responded with a look that bespoke a clear conscience. A look designed to fuel her annoyance. “Erick’s right. You’re leading her to believe something that’s not entirely true.”

“Oh, Mother.” Belinda brightened. “Then he hasn’t ruined you?”

Sabrina clenched her teeth. Nicholas was a virtual picture of childlike innocence: hands clasped behind his back, pleasant smile drifting across his lips, she suspected she could even hear him humming. “Oh, he’s ruined me all right.”

Belinda uttered a pitiful cry and swayed again. Sabrina glared at Nicholas. “He married me.”

“Married!” Belinda quickly recovered from her impending swoon. “You’re the countess of Wyldewood?” Eyes wide with surprise, she turned to Nicholas. “And that makes you my—”

“Stepfather.” In one practiced gesture, Nicholas stepped forward, took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

“Splendid, Father.” Erick grinned.

“What an interesting surprise,” Belinda said faintly. She retrieved her hand and cast a chastising look at her mother. “But, Mother, you were a marchioness, and now to be a mere countess...”

“Good Lord, Belinda.” Anger flared within Sabrina. How could any child of hers turn out to be such a top-lofty snob?

Confusion crossed Belinda’s lovely face. “But, Mother, I was simply being honest.” She cast an apologetic glance at Nicholas. “And, in point of fact, she did trade a higher title for a lesser one.” Belinda explained patiently. “She was a marchioness—”

“And now she’s a wife,” Nicholas said, a satisfied smile on his lips. “I suspect, if you were to ask her, she’d tell you she’s quite pleased with her... shall we say, bargain.”

An anxious tone underlaid Belinda’s words. “Are you, Mother?”

Sabrina’s gaze caught her husband’s. Surprised, she noted that her daughter’s question echoed in his eyes. The bloody man still didn’t know how she felt about him. Her heart surged. Perhaps he did care for her after all.

She addressed her daughter but kept her gaze on her husband. “Yes, darling,
I am pleased. I am very pleased.”

A gleam lit his eyes, and she trembled with the warmth of it. It no longer mattered that this man who had spoken so many words of love to so many women would likely never speak them to her with the meaning she longed for. He simply did not know how. But she suspected that somewhere deep within him a spark for her burned. His eyes told her that. And even if it was not the love she wanted, perhaps it was enough.

“Nicholas! I knew we would catch up to you eventually.” A beaming Wynne swept up to them and kissed the air by her brother’s cheek. “And in Italy—how exciting. We have already had the most delightful adventures, I can’t tell you—”

Nicholas chuckled wryly. “I believe we have already heard quite a bit about these so-called adventures, and it seems delightful may well be a matter of perspective.”

“Indeed?” Wynne’s brows drew together thoughtfully above her gold-rimmed glasses. “I can’t imagine why anyone would not consider our activities to date thoroughly enjoyable. Of course, poor Erick here has been a bit under the weather. And dear Belinda does not seem to relish new experiences with quite the same enthusiasm one would hope for in someone of her age. Still, I...” Wynne’s gaze met Sabrina’s. “Lady Winfield, I would suspect you of all people would understand the lure of adventure.”

“Why on earth would you suspect that?” Sabrina words were cautious.

Wynne shrugged. “Why, it’s obvious, my dear. First, you take off on an unexpected and quite mysterious journey to ancient lands. Next, without warning, you marry a man you scarcely know—”

“You’ve already heard about that, have you?” Nicholas grinned.

Wynne nodded toward Simon. “This gentleman was so kind as to tell me. I must say, I was somewhat amazed.”

“Surely you expected I would marry again someday?” Nicholas raised a brow in surprise.

Wynne sighed. “I had hoped, of course. But when the time came I did not expect you to wed ... well... someone like this.”

“Forgive my interruption,” Sabrina said sarcastically, “but I tend to lose patience when people discuss me as if I were not present. Exactly what do you mean, ‘someone like this’?”

“My dear, I do not mean to imply censure of any sort. On the contrary, I quite admire you. I have already mentioned your apparent appreciation of adventure and the unexpected. Your willingness to take on Nicholas as a husband confirms that you comprehend the value of a challenge.”

“I hardly view myself as a challenge,” Nicholas said with a huff. “I’ve always been considered something of a catch on the marriage mart.”

Sabrina and Wynne stared at him and then traded glances.

“Perhaps I am not making myself entirely clear.” Wynne paused, as if carefully choosing her words. “I imagine I had assumed that when Nicholas finally wed again it would be to a woman who was far too proper to ever consider adventure of any type.”

Wynne cocked her head and eyed Sabrina in a considering manner. “Now that I think about it, I had always supposed you to be that type of creature. At least all I have ever heard about you would indicate that.”

“Things are not always what they would appear,” Sabrina said dryly.

“So it would seem.” Wynne smiled. “I believe we shall get on exceedingly well. Exceedingly well, indeed.” She cast an appraising glance over Sabrina. “And if you would lend me a pair of those charming breeches or help me procure a pair of my own—”

Nicholas groaned. “Wynne.”

“Bree.” Matt’s elbow dug into Sabrina’s side. “It seems everyone is acquainted here but me.” Matt’s gaze met Wynne’s, meshed and held. “What do I have to do to earn an introduction to this lovely lady?”

Sabrina stifled a grin at Matt’s blatant display of interest and the forbidding frown that crossed her husband’s face. “Of course. Whatever possessed me to forget myself this way.”

Sabrina fluttered her lashes innocently at Matt and was rewarded by a quick scowl in return. “Matt, may I present Lady Wynnefred Harrington. Wynne, Matthew Madison, the captain of this ship.”

“Captain, you have a magnificent vessel.” A slight sultry tone marked Wynne’s voice. Sabrina exchanged surprised a glance with her husband.

“Ah, but its magnificence pales in your presence.” Matt took Wynne’s hand and drew it to his lips. His gaze never broke from hers, their mutual attraction readily apparent.

The moment stretched between the two, who were oblivious to the inquisitive stares of those gathered around them. Sabrina glanced at Nicholas. Concern etched his countenance and his dark eyes narrowed. Belinda’s features lit with curiosity, and her
fiancé sported a man-of-the-world smirk. Even Simon joined the fascinated onlookers, a wide grin stretched across his face.

“I daresay we should get everyone settled.” Sabrina’s voice shattered the silence and her own growing discomfort. It was as if she and the others somehow had intruded on an intimate liaison, a private moment, a romantic encounter.

Abruptly, everyone burst into animated, nervous chatter. Wynne withdrew her hand from Matt’s, but there was a sense of reluctance about the act, as if she and he were unwilling or unable to relinquish the connection between them.

“If you ladies would care to follow me ...” Simon led the way to Sabrina’s cabin, and the women took their leave in a flurry of inane comments.

Sabrina eyed Wynne thoughtfully. Perhaps this would not be as amusing as she had thought, especially if Wynne returned Matt’s interest as quickly as it now appeared. As interesting as it would be to see Matt bested by an intelligent and clever woman, she would not want to see his heart broken. And Wynne’s reaction to him indicated the possibility of heartbreak could well exist on both sides.

She did not know Wynne well and now wondered if, indeed, anyone knew her at all. Her reputation did not indicate the kind of woman who would be attracted to someone as brash and boisterous as Matt.

Could it be that after all these years of living through her books, Wynne Harrington was now ready to leap into life with a vengeance? Was the well-known bluestocking hiding a spirit just waiting to be released by the touch of adventure and the lure of the unknown? And what would a woman like that become with the excitement of freedom and the promise of passion at long last within reach?

With a start, Sabrina realized that Wynne was not so very different from herself. For years she too had hidden her real self from the condemning eyes of society. Only now had her quest brought out the woman she truly was, the woman she’d always been.

Sabrina smiled to herself and followed her daughter and sister-in-law into her cabin. If Nicholas thought he’d had difficulties with a wife who had a mind of her own, she wouldn’t hazard to guess how he would react to a sister enthusiastically embracing an entire new world of experience.

Especially when it appeared that that embrace would very likely include a rakish American sea captain.

“I daresay you’re overreacting, Father. We have only a week or two remaining until we reach Egypt. What can happen in so short a time?”

“More than you can imagine,” Nicholas said, brooding. He recalled how little time it had taken for him to fall completely under Sabrina’s spell.

Erick sat in the lone chair in the cramped cabin he shared with his father. Nicholas perched uncomfortably on a narrow bunk and surveyed the tiny room with disgust. He thought he’d seen the last of this uncomfortable accommodation when he tossed his valise into Sabrina’s cabin.

“Are you certain Captain Madison has designs on Aunt Wynne?”

Nicholas threw his son a disbelieving glance. Surely the boy wasn’t that naive. Madison’s intentions were obvious to anyone who had witnessed his meeting with Wynne. Nicholas snorted. “As certain as knowing what a rooster’s intentions are in a henhouse.”

“Perhaps it’s just as well.”

“What in God’s name do you mean, just as well?”

Erick shrugged. “At her age, Aunt Wynne is past praying for. Madison may well be her only chance to wed.”

“Bloody hell, Erick.” Nicholas leapt to his feet and promptly smacked his head on a low beam. “Yow!” He glowered at the offending timber. He would not put it past Madison to have maneuvered everything up to and including the appearance of his son and sister, simply to place him back in these disgracefully meager quarters.

Nicholas rubbed his head gingerly. “Madison has no intention of marrying your aunt. He has no desire to be leg-shackled. I have seen far too many men just like him to be certain of that. No, marriage is not what he wants.”

“Well, surely Aunt Wynne will not discard her virtue easily.”

Abruptly, Nicholas realized his fears might be unfounded after all. His sister was a practical, proper woman. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course she won’t. I had not thought of that. Wynne will not disregard years of proper behavior, impeccable breeding and her duty to her family simply because a rogue like Madison whispers a few tender words in her ear.”

“Still...” Erick said thoughtfully.

“Still?”

“Well...” Erick’s words were measured and evasive. “Aunt Wynne’s behavior on this trip has been somewhat ... different than her manner in the past.”

“Different?” Foreboding pulled Nicholas’s dark brows together. “Explain yourself.”

Erick sighed. “I’m not sure I can.” He paused, as if collecting his thoughts. “From the moment I first asked her to accompany us, it has been as if she has had a purpose all her own on this journey. She has always been extremely capable and excessively knowledgeable.” He grimaced. “For as long as I can remember she has always had a book in hand.

“But now there is a quiet excitement about her, an odd sort of suppressed energy....” Erick shook his head helplessly. “I daresay I am not expressing this well. It’s as if she is waiting, as if she is expecting something. Take my word on it, Father, Aunt Wynne has definitely changed.”

“Surely you are exaggerating differences that could well be attributed to the stimulation of traveling.”

Erick shook his head. “I don’t think so, Father.”

Nicholas paced the short length of the cabin in an uncomfortable hunched posture. He could stand upright, but only with care. Walking meant avoiding stout beams lurking in wait to batter his already bruised head.

“If you are right about your aunt, there may well be little we can do to protect her from Madison’s advances. However, I think we can at least attempt to intercede in any way possible to ensure that they are never alone together.”

“Father,” Erick said cautiously, “I suspect that will be extremely awkward, if not impossible. We cannot watch them every minute. Besides ...” He breathed a heavy sigh. “I fear I will not be of much assistance. I shall be incapacitated within an hour of hitting open seas.”

“So I hear.” Nicholas frowned. “I can sympathize, my boy, although I’ve never felt the ravages of seasickness myself.”

“
Ravage
is the right word for it,” Erick said under his breath. “But far worse than the illness itself is the effect it seems to have on Belinda.”

“What effect?”

“I feel as if somehow I’ve let her down. Disappointed her.” Erick shot to his feet, and Nicholas winced in the anticipation that his son’s head would suffer the same fate as his own. Erick was less than an inch shorter than his father, but somehow he managed to stand upright without so much as a hair brushing a beam.

“Damnation, Father, I don’t know what to do.” Erick paced the length of the cabin. Without apparent effort, he avoided contact with the ceiling’s lethal projections, and Nicholas watched in admiration. “When we began this voyage I anticipated that it would provide the opportunity for us to see more of each other. To spend time away from the crowded social whirl of London and be with each other without always being under the watchful eyes of chaperones or ton gossips.

“But this annoying problem of mine has destroyed any possibility of our being together. I suspect her feelings for me may even have changed.”

“Would that be such a tragedy?” Nicholas’s words were matter of fact, but he studied his son intently.

“Bloody hell, Father.” Erick glared. “I love her. I want her. And she will be mine.” His tone softened and his shoulders sagged. “I am simply no longer certain whether she wants me.” His gaze met his father’s in mute appeal. “What shall I do?”

For the first time in Nicholas’s life his son had turned to him for advice. A small knot clenched in his stomach. He wasn’t precisely certain how to give fatherly advice. Lord knew his own father could not be bothered.

Nicholas pulled a deep breath. He was not his father and he would not let his son down.

“Well...” His tone surprised him, an effortless mix of sage wisdom and mature authority. “Well,” he said again, enjoying the way the word rolled off his tongue with fatherly insight. “It would appear to me that the way to ensnare a young girl’s affections would be to appeal to her sense of romance. Plying her with flowers and other sentimental gifts could be extremely effective.”

A skeptical expression hung on Erick’s face. “I doubt somehow that that would work in this particular situation.”

“You know,” Nicholas said thoughtfully, “I have noticed women, especially young women, have a peculiar affinity for men of a heroic nature. Lord knows, women of all ages, even the most respectable, seem to throw themselves at Wellington. Perhaps you could be alert to any heroic acts that may present themselves while we are in Egypt. It is a ruthless place these days, and there could well be ample opportunity.”

“Do you depend on heroic acts to win women’s favors?”

“Me?” Nicholas grinned. “Never. I have rarely had to actively pursue a woman. Quite the reverse. Typically, they seek me out.”

“What about my mother? Didn’t you court her?”

“No, to my chagrin, I did not.” Nicholas shook his head.

“Ours was an arranged match. We met but once before we wed. Your grandfather was convinced he was about to stick his spoon in the wall, and equally certain I would not carry out my responsibility and provide an heir. I had little to say about the match. I was younger than you are now.

“Your mother was a sweet, biddable girl, but I was consumed with work that I perceived as my duty to king and country and was not often with her. I regret to say I never really knew her. So you see, it was not a grand passion. Not at all what you appear to be seeking with Belinda.”

“Do you have a grand passion with Lady Sabrina?”

Nicholas paused and considered his son’s query. Was this a grand passion? Did he find there was no light in the day if she was not present? Did his heart pound and his pulse race when he held her in his arms? Did he fiercely and jealously want to possess not only her comely body but her very soul?

He grinned again and shrugged, more than a little self-conscious.

“I believe it is, my boy. I do believe it is.”

Wynne stood toward the bow of the ship, tangled walnut curls billowing behind her. She leaned slightly into the wind, as if eager for its caress. The breeze molding her man’s shirt to her shapely breasts, she resembled nothing so much as a sea nymph basking in the sun.

Lovely indeed, but Matt had seen lovelier. Ports around the world were filled with exotic, intoxicating beauties. No, it was not her striking appearance that drew him like a fish on a line. The woman had an air about her, a promise, perhaps, of excitement. There was a sense of anticipation, as if she were ready to burst into life.

Standing now, proud and tall, facing the winds and the sea, she could well have been the model for a ship’s figurehead a hundred years or so ago. Matt grinned at the fanciful notion.

“Is staring an American trait, or is rudeness simply part of your personal nature?”

Her voice was calm and collected, carrying more curiosity than censure. He hadn’t realized she’d seen him watching her. Matt’s grin widened.

“A little of both, I expect,” he said, and strode the few remaining steps to reach her.

Behind glasses that seemed to highlight rather than detract, her eyes were as black as her brother’s. Mesmerizing. Enchanting. Perhaps she was the loveliest creature he’d ever encountered after all.

He flicked his gaze along her supple frame in an impertinent manner designed to incite or possibly challenge. He’d long been used to seeing Bree in men’s clothing. He’d seen other women in far more revealing costumes, South Seas islanders with little but a bare scarf wrapped around their waists. But clad in forbidden attire, this vision of the flower of English womanhood stirred his senses. The man’s shirt and breeches embraced the curves of her body like a long-lost love. Wynne withstood his assessment without so much as a flinch. “Those clothes suit you.”

She stretched her arms wide above her head in a gesture that brought to mind the testing of wings by a rare bird just released from its cage. “They do, do they not? Although,” her hands dropped to rest on the flat of her stomach, “I had to locate new laces for the breeches. Sabrina seemed somehow to have misplaced them. How very odd.”

“One wonders...”

Wynne ignored him. “At any rate, I rather like this apparel. It provides such a marvelous sense of—”

“Freedom?”

“That’s it exactly. Freedom.” Excitement danced across her face. “I find it glorious.”

“I expect you’ll be hard pressed to give it up when you return to London.”

“Oh, I shan’t be returning home.”

He cocked his head in surprise. “What do you mean, ‘I shan’t be returning home’?”

She pinned him with a steady stare. “I daresay the king’s English is substantially different than that which you Americans speak, but I never suspected the differences would hinder comprehension. Which word did you fail to understand?”

Abruptly uncomfortable at her cutting response, Matt drew his brows together in annoyance. “I understood what you said. I just don’t understand why you said it. And I’d wager your brother won’t either.”

“My brother has little to say on the matter,” she said loftily.

Matt snorted. “Your brother will have a great deal to say, and I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when he says it.”

“Captain Madison,” patience underscored her words, “I have lived my entire life thus far according to the dictates of my position in society. I have been an exemplary daughter, sister and aunt. My only failure has been an inability to procure a husband who would suit. My only true excitement has been limited to the pages of my books. Books, Captain, have been my life.

“It is past time to see for myself all of which I have read. My father, for all his faults, and Nicholas would no doubt be more than willing to expound on those, has provided me with the means to an independent life. There are no conditions on the fortune he left me, no encumbrances, no trustees. I am, therefore, now the master of my own destiny, the captain of my own ship, as it were. I intend to sail it straight into whatever adventure lies ahead.”

Unease churned in his belly. The woman was an innocent, with no knowledge of the ways of the world. She needed to be set straight, and fast. “So, it’s adventure you seek. Be advised, this world—my world—is as different from your pampered, protected society as night is from day, and a far cry from any book. Here, adventure has its price.”

He grabbed her arm roughly. “Danger is ofttimes the bedfellow of adventure. Have you considered that? The harm that could befall a woman alone? The men who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of you?”

She returned his heated glare with a composed smile. “Have
you
taken advantage of many women, Captain?”

“What?” He jerked his hand back as if scalded. “What the hell kind of a question is that?”

She shrugged and sighed. “It seems our language barrier continues. I simply wondered if you are an example of the type of man you are warning me against. If you have had a great number of amorous encounters, romantic liaisons, lovers—”

“Enough!” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I understand the question. I’m just not accustomed to having it asked by a well-bred lady.”

“Very well. Then—”

“Why don’t you ask your brother? From all I’ve heard he’s had a considerable career with the fair sex.”

Wynne laughed, rich, mellow tones that lingered on the breeze. “Captain, I could never ask my brother this. He would no doubt choke on the words and end up dead at my feet in a fit of apoplexy.”

Matt smiled ruefully at the image. He shook his head in surrender. “Why on earth do you want to know?”

Her dark eyes gleamed. “I rather think I should know what to expect.”

Could this female possibly shock him further? “What to expect?”

“Certainly. From those men I will encounter on my adventures. Men eager for my fortune and, no doubt, my... virtue.” She stepped closer, her scent wafting around him, fresh and vaguely floral, her voice low and intoxicating. “Tell me, Captain, what may I expect?”

He stared into her eyes, flecked with gold, simmering and enticing. Eyes that beckoned and drew him into their bottomless depths. Who was this creature? A siren from beneath the waves? A sorceress from the heavens above? Or was she .. . fate?