Forsters 04 - Romancing the Runaway (11 page)

“That’s what I wondered, so I made some more enquiries.” Bill sniffed, pausing to ensure that he had Peacock’s complete attention. “His mother lives in the village and he comes down once a month on his days off to visit her.”

“By gad, that must be it!” Peacock punched his desk with a clenched fist. “She’d gone to see Nesbitt and must have met Blake then. Nesbitt told me she was asking about returning to Cornwall before reaching her majority, but I just thought it was a young girl’s foolishness. I didn’t take it seriously.”

“So she fled our house and went direct to Denby to see Blake.” William, not the sharpest of wits, scratched his head and scowled. “Why?”

“When Nesbitt told her that the terms of her father’s will forbade her to return until she was twenty-one she asked to see it. Naturally he refused.”

William made a scoffing sound. “A woman reading legal documents? Whatever next?”

“I assume she batted her lashes at Blake and he offered to find out for her. Anyway, Nesbitt can question his clerk and find out what she now knows, if anything, about our scheme.”

“Nesbitt won’t have confided in his clerk,” William said with assurance.

And Peacock hadn’t seen fit to confide in Bill, but he’d make it his business to find out what was going on. Unless Peacock had changed the habits of a lifetime, he wasn’t so keen to get his hands on the Cantrell chit because he was concerned for her welfare. Oh no, this was some sort of highfaluting money-making scheme Peacock and the solicitor had cooked up between them, and Bill wanted his share. He’d earned it, hadn’t he? After all, it was him who discovered the link to Blake.

“Nesbitt won’t talk,” Peacock said with assurance. “I figure that Miranda came here specifically to see Blake and somehow fell in with Forster.”

“Wonder what she had to offer him to secure his protection,” William said with a disdainful sniff.

Yeah, Bill thought, like you’d turn her down yourself, you pompous young windbag. He hated his employer’s son even more than he disliked and resented Peacock himself. William strutted around, living up to his surname, but hadn’t done an honest day’s work in his life.

“Anyway, the answers aren’t here so we’re for Cornwall,” Peacock said.

“That won’t help us if she’s got influential protection,” William pointed out.

Peacock’s expression turned smug. “Oh, but it will. Lord Gabriel has abducted my ward and thinks he’s got away with it because no one’s looking out for her interests. But that’s where he’s wrong. I shall demand that he either returns her to my care or marries her. I very much doubt whether he’ll do the right thing by her and so—”

“That’s very clever, Father,” William said, grinning. “Forster thinks no one knows he has Miranda and has probably devised some devious plan to get his hands on the property. Rich men can do all sorts of things the rest of us can’t simply because they have the power to make them happen.”

“Quite right,” Peacock replied. “But unfortunately for him, we’ll be there to put a spoke in his wheel.”

“Don’t forget you have that client coming down from London tomorrow to examine the silk we just got in,” William said. “We can’t easily put him off. He’ll go elsewhere if we do. Do you want me to stay here and deal with him?”

“No, you’re needed in Cornwall. Once Forster turns tail and runs at the thought of having to marry Miranda, I need you there to make a decent woman of her. She’ll be feeling hard done and you need to haul her before a parson before she gets any more fancy notions about independence.” Peacock paused. “This might all turn out for the best. When Forster leaves her literally at the altar, she’ll be heartbroken and you can step in and be her knight in shining armour. She’ll see you in a very different light then, my boy.”

“If I must. Although why I should take another man’s pickings—”

“You know very well why.”

William grimaced. “Indeed I do. Nothing else on this earth would induce me to take the brat.”

“We can delay our departure for a couple of days, it won’t be of any consequence,” Peacock said, ignoring his son’s litany of complaints. “In this weather it will be slow progress on a ship if the winds don’t treat ’em fair. Besides, I hear tell here’s another squall forecast. They’ll have to put into port somewhere until it passes. We might even catch up with them before they get there.”

“If they get there. It’s foolhardy trying it at all in this weather,” William replied. “Perhaps they’ll be lost at sea.”

“We couldn’t get that lucky.” Peacock turned to Bill and Luke. “You’ve done well and I won’t forget that. How do you fancy a trip to Cornwall?”

Bill fancied it very much indeed. It would beat working. Besides, he still had a score to settle with that damned sailor
and
he wanted his share of whatever this was all about.

Chapter Eleven

Miranda eyed the stove in
The
Celandine’s galley with fascination. “I’m surprised it doesn’t set the entire ship on fire, especially when the weather’s rough.”

Lord Gabriel smiled. “It’s rough now, in case you hadn’t noticed, and yet the stove continues to do its job.”

“How does it work?”

“The cooking fire’s contained in the hearth, and the smoke goes up that chimney through a funnel to the weather-deck. Cooking can be done in the oven but I believe meat is more commonly boiled in those round pots that sit in the deep holes on the top, which are totally secure, isn’t that right?” Lord Gabriel addressed the comment to the sailor manning the galley.

“As a rule, m’lord. But given the weather, we won’t be serving hot food tonight, begging your pardon.”

“Quite right too,” Miranda said, seeing all the dire consequences Jessie had filled her head with coming to fruition. “It wouldn’t be at all safe.”

Lord Gabriel laughed. “The fire’s contained in a sheet-iron stove, which has several ovens and strong, cast-iron doors. There’s no possibility of the fire escaping, even in the roughest weather, since the catches on those doors are solid.”

“Yes, and it’s incredibly warm in here.” Miranda was sure her face must be quite red from the heat, which would hardly display her to her best advantage. Not that she cared about her appearance particularly, but Lord Gabriel was being so considerate that she owed it to him not to offend his eye any more than she could absolutely help. She pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and sought for something intelligent to say. Nothing came to mind.

Instead she became aware of Lord Gabriel watching her, the corners of his lips lifting as though he understood her confusion and found it amusing. She felt an unholy connection stretching between them like an invisible thread, and that damned fizzing chose a most inconvenient time to return, causing its usual mayhem. The silence stretched on, in danger of becoming embarrassing as Lord Gabriel continued to look at her. He must be aware of the tension and ought to be well-mannered enough to speak. She did so instead, saying the first words that came into her head. “What action do you take in the event of an accident?”

“The open-topped sandbox capped with bricks the stove sits on makes accidents almost impossible.”

“But should one occur, the sand would dampen it down?”

“Precisely.”

“It’s fascinating.” Miranda didn’t trust herself to look at him, even though she was aware of his gaze still levelled on her face. Goodness, if this was part of growing up—all these odd undercurrents, confusing emotions and words that didn’t actually comply with their dictionary definition—she would prefer to remain a child.

“Have you seen enough?”

His voice roused her from her reverie. “Yes, thank you.” Miranda smiled at the sailor on duty and preceded Lord Gabriel from the galley.

“You’re still wearing your cloak. Are you willing to risk going above for a few minutes? It will be freezing cold but bracing.”

Miranda wrinkled her nose. “
Bracing
was another of Miss Frobisher’s favourite terms.”

Lord Gabriel laughed. “Then perhaps you’ve had enough of being braced.”

“Yes, but I’m quite willing to be invigorated. I’m sure that’s a vastly different experience.”

“Let’s put that theory to the test, shall we?”

“By all means.”

He took her elbow and guided her to the door that led to the upper deck. “Beware what you wish for, Miss Cantrell.”

Wise words indeed, Miranda thought, as she stepped onto the slick deck and the wind almost tore the bonnet from her head, even though it was securely tied beneath her chin. The cold and the strength of the wind stole her breath away. Visibility was down to a few yards and she could no longer see the shoreline, even though they couldn’t yet be far from it. Her cloak billowed behind her and was almost wrenched from her shoulders. The skirts of her habit were plastered against her legs, already misted with spray from the angry sea.

Miranda found sufficient reserves to turn her face into the wind, allowing it to cool her burning cheeks, and laughed aloud. Carefree for the first time in weeks, she revelled in the joy of simply being alive. Of outwitting Mr. Peacock and heading for the home she still missed so much, even after a four-year absence.

“You really do enjoy the sea,” her companion said, speaking with his lips almost touching her ear in order to make himself heard above the noise of the wind and the creaking rigging.

“Oh yes.” She inhaled deeply. “There’s nothing that surpasses it.”

“Even so, you ought to—”

The boat lurched as another wave rocked it, sending water cascading over the lower deck. Miranda lost her footing and would have fallen had not a strong arm reached out and caught her. She fell against Lord Gabriel’s broad shoulder and his arm held her captive against his side. The breath left her lungs in an extravagant swoosh that had little bearing on the conditions. His lordship’s body was hard, lean and taut. She could discern that much, even through the multiple layers of clothing he wore. She also discovered that it was incredibly comfortable, leaning against him, and she had no particular desire to vacate that position.

“Careful,” he said softly, an unreadable expression in his eye as he gazed down at her. “Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. Let’s go back below.”

The wind whipped some of his words away but she figure out what he must have said.

“Yes, let’s.” She was being troublesome again. It took strength and courage to withstand these conditions topside. It wasn’t wise to underestimate the power of the sea. A person as slight of build as she was could easily be swept away by a rogue wave, causing further problems for Lord Gabriel since he would undoubtedly feel the need to rescue her.

Again.

The moment they were safely below again, out of the howling wind and heavy sleet, Miranda felt more in control of herself. The temporary insanity that had come over her when she fell against Lord Gabriel had diminished and she could face him with relative equanimity.

“I’d best check on Jessie,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “She didn’t look too comfortable when we left her.”

“I’ll send someone to fetch you later,” he replied politely, inclining his head. “We dine at six.”

“Thank you.”

Miranda walked away rapidly, aware of his gaze following her until she turned in to her cabin. The sight that greeted her immediately put all thoughts of Lord Gabriel from her head. Jessie was lying on her bunk, looking distinctly green and groaning as though she thought she were about to breathe her last. Tobias, who hadn’t accompanied Miranda on her tour of the boat, looked up with mournful condemnation in his eyes. She ruffled his ears and went straight to Jessie.

“What in the name of tarnation made me agree to this trip?” she moaned.

“Shush, Jessie.” Miranda knelt beside her and felt her forehead. “It’s just a little seasickness. It will pass.”

“The only thing that’s likely to pass is me.”

“I know it feels like that now but you’ll get used to the motion before you know it. In the meantime I’ll see if I can scrounge up some broth for you.”

“Aw, lord above, I couldn’t take a thing.”

“But you must. I promise you, it will help.”

With their roles reversed, Miranda went off to the galley and procured bread and broth her Jessie. She returned to their cabin, plumped up Jessie’s pillows and bossed her into sitting up. She then spooned the broth into her mouth, wiping away the drips from her chin with a handkerchief, chatting about her tour of the boat.

“It’s amazing, Jessie. So very modern. You must be sure to see it all the moment you’re well enough. You might never get another chance.”

“That I won’t. I wouldn’t go to sea again, not if you were to offer me fifty pounds.”

“Oh, dear, you really are feeling unwell, aren’t you.”

Jessie continued to complain and eat simultaneously, managing to consume most of the broth and eat a little bread and butter. Tobias was less circumspect. He wolfed down the chop bone Miranda had managed to procure for his supper and finished off Jessie’s bread and butter in one gulp. He then licked his lips and returned to his slumbers, seemingly oblivious to the conditions. Jessie also stopped complaining, slithered into a supine position and closed her eyes.

After all Jessie had done for her, Miranda felt guilty for appreciating the silence. The problem was, she now had nothing to do with herself except think. She was a profound thinker as a rule but was knocked out of kilter by the maelstrom of conflicting feelings she harboured for Lord Gabriel. And so she wouldn’t think about them, or him. Instead she searched her valise for something to read and settled on her bunk, waiting until it was time to dine with Lord Gabriel.

But even that simple engagement was fraught with uncertainty. Was she expected to change? She glanced at Jessie, thankfully now sound asleep and snoring. Even if that was the case, she wouldn’t be able to get into one of her evening gowns without help because the ties were at the back. Besides, it wasn’t
that
warm on board and she’d probably freeze to death if she tried it. And so she’d stay as she was. Her trusty riding habit it would have to be. She removed her bonnet, searched for her brush and managed to untangle her hair. Someone brought her a bowl of water and she washed her face and hands. There was nothing more she could do to improve her appearance. Perhaps that was for the best. She didn’t want Lord Gabriel to think that she was trying to make an impression.

When a sailor knocked at the door, asking if she was ready to dine with his lordship, Miranda straightened her shoulders and glanced at Jessie, wondering if she would be all right alone. She was still sound asleep and it would probably be better if she remained that way. Tobias uncoiled himself, shook and followed her from the cabin.

“Is there some way he can be let out without being swept overboard?” she asked her escort.

“Leave it to me, miss. I’ll see him right.”

“Perhaps you’d bring him to Lord Gabriel’s cabin when he’s finished.”

The sailor tugged at his forelock and whistled to Tobias, who followed him with patent reluctance.

*

“I’m beginning to have second thoughts about this,” Gabe said to Wright. “The weather was supposed to improve. Should we turn back while we still can?”

Wright shrugged, perfectly unconcerned. “There’s another squall blowing up but if the wind continues to favour us, we’ll likely outrun it. If not, we’ll just have to ride it out. The boat’s taken a lot worse than this.”

“How many days?”

“If the wind obliges, this night and maybe two more.”

Better than Gabe had anticipated. He was fine with a bit of bad weather, so too was Miss Cantrell, apparently. What he hadn’t factored in was being in such close quarters with her and having nothing to distract himself from her presence. She was occupying way too many of his thoughts, and for all the wrong reasons. He had no one to blame for that except himself since he knew she wasn’t even attempting to attract him.

Attraction? Was that what he felt towards Miranda Cantrell? It hardly seemed plausible. Wasn’t that why he ran away from the
ton
, precisely to avoid becoming entangled with any of the females who’d pursued him there? And yet here he was, undertaking this sea voyage in the dead of winter with what Wright described as a bit of a squall blowing up, and with no idea what conundrums awaited him at his destination.

It wasn’t attraction he entertained for Miss Cantrell. He was merely impressed by her steely determination not to be forced into marriage against her will. That was why his blood was up and why she loomed large in his thoughts. He would help her overcome her guardian’s iniquitous behaviour, and then leave her be.

“What happened to the suspicious man in the Boar, Wright? The one you thought was looking out for Miss Cantrell.”

Wright shrugged. “He upped and left, didn’t talk to no one and no one took his place.”

“Why would he have done that?”

“Perhaps he was told to be in Denby just for a certain amount of time and then move on to another village.”

Gabe frowned, disliking unresolved issues. He glanced at the clock, smothering a curse when his heart quickened because it was almost time for Miss Cantrell to dine with him. They would take dinner together, nothing more. The location was a little unconventional, and the comfortable bunk in the captain’s quarters appeared to dominate the entire cabin, but that was neither here nor there. “Okay, Wright, that will be all. Let me know if there’s any change in the weather.”

“Will do, m’lord.”

Wright had barely left him when there was a light tap at the door and Miss Cantrell joined him. She hadn’t changed out of her habit, which was sensible, but had brushed her hair out and left it down, held back from her face with a clip. It reached almost all the way to her waist, falling in a mass of shimmering golden curls. Gabe simply stared at her, quelling the urge to run his fingers through its silky thickness. He ought to speak, welcome her, say something, but words seemed beyond him.

“Should I have changed?” she asked, presumably thinking his stare was one of disapproval. “Jessie’s suffering from seasickness and I—”

“Not in the least.” Gabe held out a chair for her at the small table. “The weather’s far too unsettled for us to worry about the proprieties.” He waved to the sailor still standing in the doorway but was almost knocked off his feet by Tobias, who came barging in, shaking rainwater off his coat. “Ah, Tobias.”

Tobias wagged, licked Gabe’s hand and settled down on the rug. Gabe chuckled, glad to have Tobias to ease the awkwardness between them.

“As you can see,” Miss Cantrell said. “Tobias is very adaptable.”

“So he is.” Gabe looked at the hovering sailor. “We’ll dine immediately,” he said.

“Very good, m’lord.”

The galley provided them with warm broth, fresh bread, cold sliced meat and potatoes. There was also some sort of lard cake which Miss Cantrell eyed with pleasure. At least her sweet tooth wouldn’t feel neglected. The sailor who brought the dishes didn’t linger, leaving Gabe to pour wine for them both himself.