Cross the Ocean (3 page)

“Blake,” Anthony nearly shouted and jumped to pump Blake’s hand. “I am so very happy you are here,” Anthony said in Blake’s ear.

Blake’s eyes widened. Cousin Gertrude was coming to him. She was every inch as tall as he. Anthony made the introductions. She held out her hand. Blake grasped it and bent to place a kiss there and was surprised when she began to shake it, hitting him squarely in the nose. Blake covered his face with his hand.

“Oh, dear,” Miss Gertrude Finch exclaimed. She threw a look at her cousin Elizabeth.

“No harm done,” Blake said. He moved to Elizabeth and kissed her cheek. “You look lovely, my dear.

Blossoming very nicely.”

Miss Finch tilted her head. “Does that mean pregnant? I like the sound of that. Blossoming,” she said.

Pregnant was a word never uttered before in Blake’s presence. He looked to Anthony. His friend was beet red. Elizabeth nodded to her cousin.

“Please sit down, Blake. Staying for dinner, aren’t you? I’ll ring for another place,” Elizabeth said.

Blake’s well-laid plans were for naught. The cousin continued a conversation apparently started before he arrived. American women were campaigning for the right to vote. Too bad women didn’t vote during the ‘revolution,’ he thought. A Union Jack would fly in Washington. Blake concealed his humor and horror, listening politely. Occasionally. Miss Finch wasn’t ugly, he observed. Just large and loud. Not fat, but tall and very well endowed. Her eyes were lively and intelligent. Green eyes. The oddest color Blake had ever seen. She had thick black hair, darker than his own. It wasn’t pulled up, but curled over and around her shoulders and back. Quite decadent. Mayhap he needed to visit Helena.

“What do you think, Mr. Sanders, Your Grace? Whatever do I call him, Elizabeth?” the American asked.

“Well, I … ah, I…” Blake stuttered.

“Woolgathering, were you?” she smiled at his blank stare. “I’m not offended. Used to it by now. People often nod off when I’m on my podium.”

* * * *

Gertrude could have guessed Sanders would have no reply. Was always silly when she got the notion in her head to preach to men. She didn’t really care what they thought but it would be nice to meet one who would listen. Last night Elizabeth elbowed Sir Anthony and to his horror his head fell off his hand, where he had been napping. Embarrassing for everyone, really. And here she’d done it again. For whatever reason Gert had hoped this one had been listening. Handsome as sin, Elizabeth had said about him and had been right. Tall, regal, well muscled. Sanders would do fine on Uncle Fred’s ranch. She giggled and covered her mouth as she envisioned him riding a bronco and yelling ‘Tally ho.’

“Something humorous, madam?” the duke asked.

Gert shook her head. She had best be civil. This man was, after all, Tony’s closest friend. “I understand you have three children,” she inquired.

“Melinda is the oldest and will make her come-out this spring. William is fourteen. The heir. And Donald is seven,” Sanders replied.

“Melinda is beautiful and will set society on its heels. And the boys will break hearts all over London, I’m afraid,” Elizabeth said smiling.

“How wonderful,” Gert said. “You and your wife must be awfully proud.” Gert didn’t know what she had said but clearly something was wrong. Everyone froze. “I’m sorry. Is your wife ill?” she asked.

“No,” he replied.

No one of Gert’s friends or family would ever accuse her of being afraid to say what she thought. But still she hesitated with such a personal question. The silence in the room, however, was fairly screaming with unanswered questions. “Did she die?” she asked finally.

“The Duchess of Wexford is well. Thank you,” the duke said.

That
certainly did not explain anything at all. Gert lifted her brows and eyed him.

“She is currently residing elsewhere,” he added.

“She’s taken a trip?” Gert asked. “Is that all? The way everyone was acting you’d of thought the poor woman had some horrible illness. Some disfiguring thing.” Gert sat back in her chair and rolled her eyes.

These English are a strange bunch, she thought. Never content to call a male cow a bull.

“My wife is not on holiday, madam,” Blake Sanders replied.

Gert stared at him. The wife isn’t sick or dead or visiting. Unfortunately, Gert’s thoughts spewed from her mouth before she could stop them. “Where is she then?”

“She’s at her family’s home, currently.” Sanders sat up straight and shot his cuffs. “The duchess no longer resides with me.”

Gert studied Sanders. It was clear the admission cost the man. “I’m thinking this wasn’t your idea.”

Blake Sanders smiled tight-lipped and replied, “No, it was not, Miss Finch.”

Gert sat back in her chair and tapped her forefinger on her lip. “Dumped you, huh? Over the barrel? The heave ho. Left you holding the bag. Seems unusual for your kind.” She turned her head to Elizabeth.

“From your letters, the way you made everyone so in a fuss about being proper this is a doozy, wouldn’t you say?”

Elizabeth nodded quickly. “I’ve known Ann for years and I will say I was shocked. She’s always adhered strictly to society’s rules. Truth be told, cousin, I’ve never in all my years heard of anyone of her station leaving a husband.”

Gert turned around in her chair to face Elizabeth. “What do you imagine happened?” She tilted her head to the duke and whispered, “Did he beat her?”

“I did not beat my wife,” Sanders said sharply as he stood. “And I would greatly appreciate it if you two would not chatter as if I’m not in the room.”

“Well, maybe we wouldn’t if you’d say more than two words at a time. How are Elizabeth and I to figure this out or help you get her back if you don’t tell us the details?” Gert said.

“You mistake my meaning and overstep your boundary. I have no intention of trying to drag the duchess home, nor would I ask your advice if I did,” he bellowed.

Gert looked around the room. Elizabeth fixed her skirts and her husband stared away blankly. The duke however was pacing, red-faced and angry. Maybe she had mistaken the man. Maybe he loved this Ann so passionately he wanted her to be happy. Even without him.

“You love her that much, then?” Gert whispered. The duke spun around to face her.

“Love her? Love has nothing to do with it. She’s blackened the Wexford name. Tarnished it. I would not accept her back now if she crawled through the streets of London.”

Gert stared wide-eyed at the man pacing in front of her. From the look on his face, he may have been regretting his harsh words. Regardless, he did not need or deserve her sympathy. “Sounds as though she’s better off without you. I hope she meets a nice man and forgets all about you,” Gert said.

“She’s already met one,” Elizabeth said.

“Elizabeth! Gossip is not called for,” Anthony shouted.

“Hardly gossip, dear,” Elizabeth said. “You told me the children’s letters said she left with a merchant.”

“Oh, dear, the children. They must be devastated,” Gert said, just now remembering the three.

“The Wexford heirs are not devastated,” Sanders said.

“You refer to your own children as the Wexford heirs. How would you know how they feel?” Gert asked.

“I’m their father,” he boomed.

“The only thing you’re worried about is your family name. Somehow I can’t picture you patiently answering their questions,” Gert countered.

“Anthony said Melinda was near hysterical and William looked stricken,” Elizabeth added.

“I did not come here to be skewered by two females. Making me somehow to be the devil. Ann left me.

This subject is closed,” Sanders shouted.

* * * *

Dinner was a tense affair with the duke saying little. Now, Elizabeth sat on Gert’s bed in her nightclothes.

She noticed her cousin’s hand went often, mostly unaware Gert was sure, to her rounded stomach. But this evening’s discussion would not focus on Elizabeth’s child.

Gert had made the trip across the Atlantic with worry. A month she had to stay with a distant cousin she had never met. Cousin Annabelle deposited safely with her family, Gert made the journey alone to Anthony and Elizabeth’s estate.

All of her fears were for nothing. Gert knew she made Anthony uncomfortable but still all in all he was generous to her with his time and his home. Elizabeth and she however were on their way to becoming best friends. They had corresponded prior to Gert’s trip and Elizabeth seemed formal and stuffy in her letters. But she was not. Elizabeth was kind, smart and her husband fell over himself to please her.

Gert sighed. To have a man gush and worry was something she had never experienced. At her home, near Chicago, Uncle Fred and the hands at the ranch were good to her, disagreeing with her politics, but defending her to the last. She was an oddity to them but they loved her still, she knew. But not like Anthony and Elizabeth. Their eyes met often, knowing smiles exchanged as he clasped her hand or kissed her cheek. Gert had long ago weaned herself of fairy stories of dashing heroes, but before her eyes were the real Prince Charming and his lady.

“Blake was terribly disagreeable this evening, cousin,” Elizabeth said.

“Not to himself, Elizabeth. I’ve never met anyone so full of himself in all my days,” Gert replied. “And I suppose I was far too forward having just met him.”

Elizabeth laughed. “He’s not usually that bad, you know.” She tilted her head. “And I don’t think he’s really that conceited. Raised differently to be sure. Sure of his station and situation. Blake has no idea how to be any other way. Truly I think Ann’s leaving was more than he can take. He has no idea how to respond. No long-ago set rules to reference how a duke behaves when the duchess leaves him.”

“I suppose he must have some redeeming virtues for your Anthony to consider him a best friend. I didn’t see any tonight of course,” Gert said and smiled. “You know his wife. Why do you think she left him?”

“I can’t be sure. When I first heard I didn’t believe it. Ann’s feelings were always closely guarded, other than with her children of course. This will be difficult for all of them. Ann and her children are very close,”

Elizabeth replied.

“I wonder what happened,” Gert said. She felt morbidly drawn to the story. What would make this paragon of virtue leave a handsome, wealthy husband and her children? England, like the States, gave women virtually no rights. She could easily never see her children again. “How does a woman support herself in England if her only training is to be the wife of a duke?”

“That will never be a problem,” Elizabeth said. “Ann is very wealthy in her own right. It was not money that drove her to the arms of a merchant.”

“A merchant is so bad?” Gert asked.

“In England, if one’s wealth isn’t bequeathed, no amount of it will turn society’s head. The only way new money gains some acceptance is by marrying a titled but desperately poor peer of the realm.”

The women laughed, bid each other good night and Gert pondered. Ann Sanders sacrificed much for some reason. Gert smiled. More than two weeks left in her stay. Certainly enough time to find out.

* * * *

Blake awoke the next morning with a blinding headache. Caused, most certainly by the giantess and her unending, inappropriate questions. He had made a quick escape after dinner with Anthony and Elizabeth and the cousin. When Miss Finch had challenged him to give an explanation for Ann’s desertion he had thought about Anthony’s advice.
Brazen it out. Dare them to laugh.
Was good practice for when his answers held consequence. This woman knew no one in his circle. And certainly Anthony would not allow her to be introduced to society.

But this was merely the beginning of the speculation and this interview had not been conducted with the steely aloofness he was accustomed to wielding.Wisely, Anthony had escorted the American dragon woman to the dining room. The ‘cousin’ continued through dinner her discourse on women’s rights.

At the breakfast table, Blake heard his children’s arrival from their grandmother’s home. He was itching to find out the details of his wife’s betrayal. Donald shouted his greeting and raced off. William and Melinda took their seats beside him at the dining table.

“Welcome back, children,” Blake said.

“Good to see you father,” William said. He shot his sister an angry face.

Melinda said nothing.

“You look lovely, dear,” Blake said to Melinda. “How was your trip?”

“Fine.”

Blake had no intentions of revealing how anxious he was for news. But Melinda was stewing about something. They ate in silence. Blake watched William mouth something to Melinda. The stubborn girl narrowed her eyes.

“Is something amiss? Is there something you wish to discuss, Melinda, William?” Blake asked.

William colored. “No, sir.”

Blake stared at his daughter. “Well, Melinda?”

No reply.

“I assume your sullen behavior has something to do with your visit with your grandmother,” Blake said as he stirred his gruel.

Melinda sat silently until tears began to streak her cheeks. Her silverware hit the table with a sharp rap and she turned to him, on him. “How could you, father? How could you?” she hissed.

Blake shook his head. “How could I what? What will I be blamed for now?”

“All these years, mother loved you faithfully,” Melinda trailed off. She stood abruptly and hurried to the door.

The hairs on Blake’s arms stood. “What are you trying to say, my dear? That I somehow am the cause of your mother’s betrayal?”

Melinda turned in a flurry. “You took everything from her. And she did nothing but give. I hate you.”

Blake threw his napkin down. “I will not stand for this kind of behavior. Apologize this instant.”

“I will not apologize. What will you do, father? Discard me, disown me?” Melinda’s eyes narrowed.

“Find someone else to take my place?”

“Make your meaning clear, girl,” Blake shouted. In that instant he knew what she spoke of and wished he had not pressed her for an answer.

“Helena. Does that name mean anything to you, father?” Melinda said.

“Melinda, hush,” William shouted.

Blake swallowed. Visibly, he knew. “I suppose your mother filled your head with….”