Wishing she could return with them rather than board the ship, Juliet embraced her sister, whispering, "What have I done?"
"You will not mind so much as you think." Miranda answered cheerfully, though unshed tears made her eyes brighter than usual.
"How can you know that?"
Her sister laughed. "I saw your look as your husband handed you out of the carriage."
Juliet patted her skirts and smoothed back her hair under her new travel bonnet. Had it been so obvious to everyone? She glanced at R.J. supervising the loading of their bags. Was that the same man who had spent the carriage ride demonstrating delightful ways to make the travel time pass quickly? There was no sign of that man now in his business like gaze.
Given the forbidding looks Annabel was throwing her, it seemed they had not been as discreet as they should have been. The woman had avoided her since the day in Simon's study when she had fruitlessly forbidden the marriage. But Juliet still remembered the bitter declaration that she was not a suitable wife for R.J.
Deviled by Miranda's amusement, Juliet said stiffly, "Perhaps you should have arranged for Annabel and Susannah to travel in our carriage, instead of with you and the duke."
"Nonsense. I arranged things perfectly."
Juliet gasped. "You meant for us to….?" Impossible.
Miranda gave her an impish grin, which disappeared as she glanced at Annabel's sour expression as the woman watched for any sign her bags might be mishandled by the dockhands loading the steamer Britannia with ferocious efficiency. "Do not let anyone insinuate himself, or herself, between you and your husband. That is my only advice."
Though she had often wished her sister would stop offering advice, Juliet felt the coming loss of that unsolicited wisdom in the pit of her stomach. "I wish you were traveling with me."
"We will visit in the spring, I promise. You must write and tell me all about your adventure in crossing the ocean so I shall be prepared."
Watching her husband, in command, absolutely businesslike, Juliet asked in a quiet voice, "And if, when you visit, I want to return to England with you?"
"You won't." Miranda sounded much too certain. How could she be?
"But if I do?" Juliet pressed the matter.
"If you do, then Master Shakespeare will roll over in his grave at the thought that Romeo and Juliet were not fated by the stars, I have no doubt."
The boarding call sounded, and Juliet tensed as R.J. came to collect her. She took his arm, and Miranda hugged her tightly, whispering, "One more piece of advice. Don't look back at us. It will only make you needlessly sad. Look forward, to your husband."
Juliet looked forward, but saw only Annabel and Susannah. Annabel watched them approach, her expression impassive. Susannah smiled in sympathy, but said nothing as they joined the other passengers in boarding swiftly under the captain's anxious gaze.
Once on deck, Juliet could not help but look back. She tried to make out the Kerstone carriage picking its way through the crowded, bustling dockside.
Annabel came up next to her and spoke softly, so that R.J., who had become engrossed in greeting a business acquaintance, would not hear. "You would be wiser to stay here in the bosom of your family. No doubt you wish you had recognized that a week ago."
Juliet wished R.J.'s stepmother had continued ignoring her, right up until they reached Boston — and possibly even then. "A wife belongs with her husband." She strove not to let her misgivings cause her voice to tremble.
"Even when the marriage is so hasty and the husband and wife virtual strangers?" Annabel glanced at the docks, which grew more distant with each second. "I would never allow Susannah to go to a strange country alone."
Juliet could not help herself from remarking, "If she had married a lord, as was your intention, you would have had to leave her with her husband when you returned home. Or would you have abandoned your husband then?"
Annabel stiffened visibly at the question. But she did not answer it. "Your family has been most kind and forgiving. You are fortunate to be so loved."
Juliet had much experience at pretending to misunderstand the silken razor cuts of criticism masked as compliments. Knowing Annabel's weakness, she smiled and delivered a cut of her own. "They trust that R.J. will take care of me as he promised the duke. He has, after all, made it clear he is content with the match, sudden though it may have seemed to others." Sudden though it seemed to Juliet herself.
Such was the hatred naked in Annabel's eyes that Juliet thought, for a single moment, that the woman would kill her. Would simply lift her white gloved hands and wrap them tightly around Juliet's throat until the breath of life had left her.
But then the brittle smile was back in place, and all she said was, "A good match? Perhaps. R.J. needs a wife of stern mettle, my dear. I fear you will find yourself tested to your limits before long."
Susannah broke in gently, "My brother seems well pleased with his bride." She smiled at Juliet, without noticing her mother's disapproving frown.
"Indeed." Annabel nodded in agreement. "I would never believe he thought you a bad influence on Susannah if he had not warned me to keep you apart at all times."
Susannah's eyes widened at her mother's revelation and she jumped to Juliet's defense. "Obviously, Mr. Shakespeare's play showed him his error in judgment. Who are more fated to be married than Romeo and Juliet?"
R.J. had thought her a bad influence on Susannah, even as he climbed her balcony. The truth stung as Juliet remembered all those weeks in fruitless pursuit of Susannah's friendship only to find out how Freddie felt about her. And now the girl was her sister-in-law.
Annabel's lips pinched together for a moment in dismay at her daughter's openly romantic view of her brother's marriage. "That was a tragedy, Susannah. I hope you do not anticipate that your brother will be so foolish as to follow in the footsteps of his namesake?" And then her features softened into an indulgent smile. Her eyes glittered as she fixed them upon the row of decorative ivory buttons on Juliet's bodice. "What was it R.J. blamed for his change of heart? The moon? An excess of the duke's fine brandy? I fear you will find those left behind in England, like your family. I do not like to think how he will explain matters to his father."
R.J. joined them at the rail, ending the tense exchange. Juliet studied his smile, his eyes. She saw no shadow of regret as he looked down at her, and then away to where her homeland dwindled to the size of a miniature. But neither did she see any sign of the man who could set her heart aflame with a touch.
Annabel gave him a cool smile. "Your father will be pleased to see you attend to business on the voyage."
Juliet felt her new husband tense beside her, though his pleasant smile did not alter a whit. "I see no point in wasting time in idle pursuits when I can further our interests. Samuel Handley-Brown will be a good friend to us, if I can impress upon him the importance of quality goods in his manufacturing."
Juliet did not fail to notice she was the only person who did not approve of that sentiment. Even Susannah smiled widely at her brother's devotion to the family business, and said, "Father will be pleased enough to counter his disappointment over my lack of husband. Thank you brother."
Juliet waited until she and R.J. had reached their stateroom to make her protest. Tightly cloistered with her husband in the close quarters of their cabin, she looked unhappily at the berths, one atop the other, that crowded them at one side. She pulled him to sit beside her on the long bench which loomed on the opposite side. Mr. Dickens had not lied in his assessment of the lack of luxury in these quarters. "Surely you do not mean to conduct business as you travel?"
He blinked in puzzlement. "We are confined to this ship for two weeks, why not take advantage of the confinement to make my business profitable? My father — " He broke off with an unhappy frown before he began again. "If I have good business news for my father, it will soften the shock of our marriage."
"Do you truly think your father will be disappointed? Did not the duke provide me an adequate dowry? I should think the sum alone would please your father."
He smiled. "The duke's generosity is a beginning. But I do not want my father to think that I am likely to be so moon-besotted ever again."
"Moon-besotted? Is that what you were?"
" I thought we were in agreement on that subject."
"I would have run away rather than marry you if I thought the moon alone had designed our fate."
He smiled, and a spark lit in his eye. "You are like your sister, then? You think we played out a fate that began the moment we met?"
"Miranda said that?"
"She did indeed."
Juliet lifted her chin. "I would sooner believe that fairytale than that we are shackled for a lifetime because of the moon and the duke's fine brandy."
"Then you must trust me to know how to deal with my father. The news of our hasty marriage will be easier if I can prove that your distraction," he bent his head to nuzzle her neck, and whispered into her ear, "has not prevented me from being a good businessman." She heard the echo of his deepest fear as he sighed against her skin: that his father would think him unreliable. She could not help but stifle a laugh at that thought. The dratted man had proven quite as reliable as a Swiss timepiece. She asked plaintively, her breath ruffling the hair at his nape. "Then what am I to do, while you are conducting your business?"
He bit her earlobe. "Be charming, of course. A task which should give you no trouble." Pulling away, he surveyed the bunks and asked with a smile, "Do you wish the top bunk or the bottom bunk?"
"I wish neither," she replied grumpily.
"Then I think we shall both occupy the bottom one."
"It is too narrow," she protested.
"I will hold you fast, never fear." His chuckle was distinctly self-interested. Suddenly, he was the man on her balcony again. She clung fast to him, hoping he would not disappear in the morning.
* * * * *
"You would do well to tell your wife to be circumspect," Annabel murmured to him as he entered the dining saloon, in a low enough voice that only R.J. heard her.
He shook his head warningly. This was not a conversation to be had in such public quarters. "Juliet is to be commended for remaining her charming self in these overly close quarters. I am assured I am a fortunate bridegroom, with such a delightful bride."
The close quarters aboard the steamer meant that the gentlemen and ladies often mingled in the main saloon. Annabel had, at first, insisted Susannah remain in the Ladies' Cabin, but Juliet could not bear it, as that room was dark and airless. So now his stepmother played unhappy chaperone in the main saloon. And R.J. was left to wonder if Juliet was punishing him for conducting business by flirting with every man aboard. He hoped his own misgivings didn't show as he threaded his way through her admirers to take his place beside her for the less than tasty meal.
Every passenger and crew member of the steamship, as in London's society, seemed to know her. The ladies, of course, looked daggers at her while the gentlemen vied to see to her every need. All gave way to his arrival, without protest, but he still felt out of sorts that she was not his alone at this time of day. He wondered if he should order their meal to the cabin for the rest of the voyage.
She looked up as he approached and her smile was genuine. He almost thought he saw a touch of relief in her eyes. "Have you done with your business for the day?"
"Just one letter to draft, after we have dined, and I shall be all yours."
Juliet pretended to smile, but this time it did not reach her eyes. "As soon as the lanterns are extinguished, you mean."
The captain interjected jovially, "Would you have me order them put out a half hour earlier, my dear? I'm always eager to encourage true love."
Annabel stiffened as the rest of the diners chuckled and Juliet blushed wordlessly.
"The usual time will do for us, Captain," R.J. said briskly. "We wouldn't want to miss our turn about deck. It looks to be a pleasant night for a stroll."
The Captain, however, appeared to have been into his drink already, as he did not desist from his personal remarks. "Surely, then, Hopkins, you can save the correspondence for the morrow and enjoy the splendid evening strolling with your wife. You never know when the weather will play fickle and toss us about."
The passengers groaned at the thought. R.J. nodded in recognition of the changeable weather. He would not mind forgoing the stroll, but the pleasures they enjoyed after they retired…. "Perhaps you are right, Captain."
He was not to enjoy himself, however, as Annabel caught his arm as he left the dining saloon for a bit of fresh air and whispered fiercely. "You must speak to her. She is your wife, and she does your reputation no favor by her behavior."
"I am certain she means no harm, Mama Annabel."
"Just as she meant no harm casting you in the accursed play, and setting in motion the events which make her your wife? If she were to create a scandal here, I fear what your father would do. Think of Susannah if you do not care for your own future."
He sighed. "I will speak to her Mama Annabel. Ease your mind."
She nodded, putting her hand to her throat and closing her eyes. "I shall hope she listens to your good counsel."
Juliet, of course, did not welcome his warning in the least, her hand pressing on his arm as he led her back and forth on the short steamer deck. "What would you have me do? Give some poor bored gentleman the cut direct because he had the misfortune to be aboard ship with me?"
"Of course not. But must you always smile so brightly?"
Her cheeks, pink from the wind, stood out in the sudden pallor of her face. "Do you truly imagine that I am encouraging more than a friendly passing of time until we arrive in Boston? You directed me to be charming. Do you wish me to turn sour, like milk left in the jug too long?"
He had not expected his words to strike her so hard. He said, more gently, "I think you do not know the effect you have on men. Especially in close quarters." He moved as close as he dared, knowing they were watched by too many people with too little of interest to do. "I can hardly fault them, now can I?"