The Duke of Morewether’s Secret (25 page)

In the past three months, he’d been living an existence unlike any he’d had in the previous thirty-two years of his life. He’d never, ever chased a woman who hadn’t wanted to be caught. He’d never been abandoned by
any
woman. And he’d never spent twenty-four hours a day with a child, let alone one of his own.

He tried to stay busy. He located the
Complete Works of William Shakespeare
his daughter had lugged aboard. The book was outrageously big and heavy. When he asked her why she’d brought the thing with her she gave him a quizzical look and replied, “If I didn’t bring a book what would I read?”

This was typical of the answers she gave him in regards to most questions — not disrespectful, but blunt. He read the book from beginning to end — the comedies, the tragedies and even the sonnets which had the unfortunate consequence of turning his mind right back to his own dark lady.

And dear Lord, the child liked to talk. When he was at his most pitiful, lonely and heartsick for his wife, terrified deep in his soul Thea wouldn’t take him back, he would seek out Lucy. He would look to her to fill the silence by asking him a million random questions he couldn’t possibly have the answers for. She would blow out the musty cobwebs of doubt and uncertainty and overwhelm him with a conversation about how many fish where under the ship at right that minute, why the first mate had red hair, or whether or not mermaids really lived. She had deep philosophical beliefs about that last one. Christian had to concede the point that there wasn’t irrevocable proof that they didn’t exist, so it was just as likely that mermaids did swim in the sea.

“I hope we see one. I have a lot of questions to ask her,” Lucy told him.

Christian chuckled. He was certain she did, and if that mermaid was smart, she’d stay well clear of Lucy, unless she didn’t have anything else to do for the next sixteen hours or so.

Once Lucy discovered Christian’s interest in horses, and that he was one of the most renowned breeders of champion thoroughbreds in Europe, she was fascinated. Finally, one of her extensive interviews was on a subject in which he could speak about with certainty. Her desire for information was admirable, and he considered how she reminded him a bit of himself when he found a topic which interested him.

His own immersion into equine matters had started when he was a bit younger than Lucy. His father took him to see a country horse race when he was seven, and he was obsessed from that point on. The preoccupation stuck with him, and he’d molded and massaged it into the legendary Equus horse farm. Christian hoped his daughter would be lucky enough to refine one of her many interests into something that inspired as much passion in her as Equus did for him.

~~~***~~~

Two weeks into their journey, Lucy stood with her father on the forward deck, facing into the wind, enjoying an especially balmy day. “What is our plan when we get to Greece?”

“I don’t know. Why do I have to have a plan?”

“Papa,” she chided her father.

“What?”

“There really isn’t a plan?”
How could there not be a plan?

“I figured I’d know what to do when I got there.”

She pulled a long strand of pale yellow hair from where the wind wrapped it around her face. She’d lost the leather thong that tied it back. Now she’d have to ask Rafael to cut her another one. “No. We need a plan.”

“What do you suggest?” he asked.

“A grand gesture.” She nodded, confident. “That’s what Shakespeare would have done. Can you write her a sonnet?”

He shook his head. “No. Definitely not.”

Inspiration struck. “I know. Sing her a ballad. I’ll lure her to a balcony and you can stand under it and sing with a guitar. Maybe we can set Romeo’s speech to music.”

He laughed again. “Right. Um, no.”

“Why not? We have lots of time to write a song. I think George will let us use his guitar.”

“I don’t play.”

“Me neither, but George might if you ask him nicely. I have the speech memorized. We’ll substitute Althea for Juliet — it’ll be easy because her full name has the same number of syllables.
It is the East and Althea is the sun
. Oh, this is going to be marvelous.”

Her father put his hand on her back and patted. “I’m not singing her a song, Luce. That’s silly.”

“I’ll write the song and teach it to you then. I’m a good writer. I’ve never written a song before, but how hard can it be?”

Another pat, and then the warmth of his hand slid away. “Forget the song.”

If he couldn’t make an effort to help himself … Well she couldn’t do everything for him. They sat still for another couple of moments, the sails flapping and the water crashing against the hull filling the silence that wasn’t really uncomfortable, but she always made it a policy not to sit quietly for too long or people might forget about her. “Don’t you love her?”

His smile was sad. “Yes, I do. Very much.”

“Maybe if you tell her that, it will be enough.” It would have worked with Juliet. Besides, her father was a handsome, rich man. Mother always said so. She’d always been really proud she’d been Papa’s mistress for longer than any other woman and the only one to have a baby, even if it did end their relationship.

“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.” He sighed and seemed far away. “She’s a complicated woman, my wife.”

She tried again. “That’s why you need a plan. Maybe not a simple plan like that song idea. Juliet was really easy. Romeo only had to say she was pretty and the silly girl was in love.” She thought for a few minutes, then snapped her fingers. “Kate.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Kate and Petruchio.
Taming of the Shrew
.”

Papa sighed and turned his attention back towards the horizon.

“Petruchio has to work
really hard
to make Kate love him.”

He nodded. “Me too, but not because Thea was a shrew. She didn’t trust me from the beginning, and it seems I’ve proved her right.”

“Oh. Do you have another mistress and she found out?”

“That’s really none of your business.” He looked angry. His eyes were flashing and his mouth was hard as he said the words. He didn’t get angry with her often, and she didn’t like it when he did. “You don’t get to ask me questions like that.”

Lucy didn’t respond, just nodded knowingly. Apparently, it didn’t matter how rich the husband and wife were, once the lady found out about another woman, things got dicey. Her easy acceptance of his misbehavior set him off again. She was learning an awful lot about how her papa worked on this trip.

“I have no idea why I’m telling you this, but no. I do not have a mistress. That’s not the problem.”

“If you weren’t carrying on with another woman what could it be? You’re rich, right? Did you lie to her about something else then?”

Papa dropped his shoulders and turned to face her against the wind. “Honey, this is a complicated issue, and I don’t really want to dissect it with you, all right?”

“I bet it’s not as complicated as you think it is.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, when lovers get into a quarrel in a play, it’s always because of some silly misunderstanding. You need to explain it to her.”

“My life is not a farce you’ve seen played out in a theater. You do realize Shakespeare doesn’t know everything, don’t you?”

But he was wrong. Shakespeare was always the answer.

She’d put her mind to it and come up with a plan. Whether Papa realized it or not, he needed her help. Mother had told her once men didn’t know anything and needed to be cared for and coddled like babies to keep them happy. Lucy didn’t know if that was true, but her mother was always making grand sweeping statements like that. Still, for all she preached on her knowledge of men, Mother never seemed to catch one for long.

Lucy was positive about one thing, though. She wanted a real family. She liked the room she had in Papa’s big house in London. She liked Grand, too. Even Miss Honeysett was tolerable. Lucy wanted brothers and sisters and cousins and a kitten, and now she wanted a horse of her own.

She wanted Papa to be happy, as happy as she was.

He reached over and tucked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him, and wrapped his other arm around her and squeezed. Then he kissed her on the top of the head.

She’d been right to stow away on this ship. She was also right about Papa and his wife. She pressed her grin into his waistcoat.

Maybe those fairytales Jane used to tell her when she was little were the way of it. Happily ever after and all that.
Much Ado About Nothing
, that sounded more like it. She’d make a Benedick and a Beatrice out of her father and Thea yet.

Shakespeare was always the answer.

~~~***~~~

When the sun rose, Thea knew she was home. She felt it in the air even before she jumped from the bed and peeked out the big window. She dressed in a hurry and rushed out to the deck. Blue water like nowhere else in the world swirled around the bow of the ship and the warm scent of Cyprus trees and honey wafted on the breeze. The horizon teased her with glimpses of the islands she called home.

As much as she wanted to curl up on the warm sand with a shady canopy to shield her from the sun, as enticing as the idea of bathing in the warm water was, there wasn’t much time. There was only a little over a week before she’d need to be back on the ocean with her brothers. Even if her husband was a deceitful snake, he had managed to convince an excellent school to enroll the boys and that had been her goal all along. She’d ticked off every item on her to do list and then some. She should be proud of herself.

Enroll Georgios and Hektor in school. Check.

Settle Father’s estate. Check.

Renew old friendships. Check.

Locate errant Greek antiquities and bring them home. Check.

Find husband wasn’t an objective. It had been a mistake. One she’d put to rights after the boys were settled.

The rest of the morning was spent organizing her departure from the ship and the consignment of wagons to bring the crates to the estate. There were friends to see in town and visits to be made to the Minister of Antiquities. Her short time home was a whirlwind preparing for yet another departure, and she barely had time to consider her broken heart. It was a nice change of pace from the quiet solitude of the ship.

Besides, she hardly thought about that husband of hers anymore. Hardly.

Chapter Twenty-five

At least half the village was standing on the dock waving them away. Cheerful yells mixed with tearful smiles. Thea herded her brothers onto the ship, the boys excited to be embarking on the long voyage to school and adventure. Eventually, Thea dreamed, they’d have new aspirations and dreams an education in England could fulfill. She genuinely hoped she was giving her brothers a chance at a life that growing up in a tiny village in Greece would never grant them.

Thea did her best to match her brothers’ enthusiasm. How could she not be affected by the excitement of twelve and six-year-old boys? Hektor, the youngest of her half-brothers, had already deemed the luxury ship to be that of a cleverly disguised pirate ship, and he was fully prepared to join their force and take charge of the seven seas.

Regardless of the boys’ boundless energy, she was aware of exactly what she was returning home to: gossip, heartbreak and an angry husband she wasn’t sure quite how to deal with yet.

She peered into the crowd and blew Hektor’s mother a kiss. Damaris put on a brave face, but Thea knew her heart must be breaking. It hadn’t taken much work to convince Damaris and Gaia, Georgios’ mother, to allow her to foster her half-brothers. They were good, loving mothers, but they had other children to raise on pitifully small incomes. What Thea offered them was too good to pass up and was certainly more than the boys’ father ever did.

Boys were strange, Thea decided, and destined to do her in via some sort of attack of the heart. The evidence on which she based her conclusions was gathered over the next several days. That first day at sea, Hektor and Georgios investigated the ship from the hold to the crow’s nest. That last one nearly killed her when she realized the boys were almost one hundred feet off the deck. They’d not even been in her custody for a week. Sweet heaven, how could she ever explain that kind of accident to their mothers?

The cook wanted them strung up from those very masts when he discovered they had released all the chickens and a goat in the hold.

Mrs. Barsdon was a passenger on board, a wealthy business man’s wife on tour with her young daughters. She also brought her dog with her. It was a small, nervous beast, and Mrs. Barsdon doted on it to an extreme. The boys must have grown bored since they’d been confined to the above decks but were forbidden from climbing the multitude of rope ladders and such that would take them up the masts. Georgios insisted it had been an accident, but Mrs. Barsdon was too near hysterics to listen to reason.

“The ball went over the edge,” Georgios told her, “and the dog went after it.”

“What is he saying?” Mrs. Barsdon demanded. “Make him speak English like a proper boy.”

“We didn’t mean for anything to happen.” Hektor was near tears.

“I know,” Thea answered in Greek. She stroked his hair and smiled at Georgios. “Go back to the cabin. I’ll smooth things over here.”

The English woman’s face was redder than Thea thought was possible. “I demand satisfaction.”

Did the woman want a duel? “The boys meant no harm. They were simply playing with Fuzzywiggles and things grew a little too exuberant. Surely you understand how children get a bit stir-crazy being cooped up.”

“I certainly do not.” Mrs. Barsdon erupted in indignation. “Those boys are dastardly, villainous creatures and I —”

“Now wait a minute.”

“I don’t want those devils anywhere near my precious Fuzzywiggles. Do you understand me, girl?”

Thea stood straight. How dare that wretched woman. “Your dog is fine.” The dog in question twisted in its owner’s arms in a desperate bid for freedom. “Nothing happened to the animal.” Granted the ball went in the water and the dog made to go after it, but her brothers had grabbed the dog by the tail before he made it over the edge.