For Love's Sake (13 page)

He took her hand and brought it up to his lips. “This is our stop.”

Laurel had not been paying attention to her surroundings, and did not notice that they had arrived at the harbor. Looming in front of them was a great black behemoth, its twin smoke stacks churning out thick black smoke into the sky. It seemed to stretch on forever, and she stared up at it open-mouthed.

“I had the same reaction,” Christopher laughed.

He led her through the busy shipyard, and up the gangway. From there, Laurel could see it was a long drop to where the green seawater lapped at the dock pilings. It was an awful time to learn that she was afraid of heights.

“You might think I’m being very silly,” she said, swallowing hard. “But I don’t think I do so well being this far off the ground.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t fall. Just keep your eyes straight ahead.” Christopher put his black leather-gloved hand in hers. “I’ve got you.”

The walk across to the ship’s door seemed endless. Laurel had not even realized that she had been holding her breath until the moment her foot touched the safety of the carpeting and she let out a long sigh.

“Welcome aboard, Miss!” a cheery crewmember said with a tip of his hat.

Christopher produced the tickets from the breast pocket of his heavy black frock coat. The officer found their names on the list of first class passengers, and then directed them to their rooms.

The narrow hallways were paneled in dark, polished wood. Gilt electric wall sconces offered up their delicate light to the dark passageways, creating a very warm, inviting atmosphere. Laurel could hardly resist reaching out and touching the smooth, shiny wood. It looked so much like chocolate that she thought she could almost break off a piece and eat it.

“Here we are, Laurel,” Christopher said, pushing the door to his cabin open. “I suppose yours would be the one next door.”

She went to her own room, studying the small space. Amidst the chocolate paneling, there was a double bed, a dressing table, and a wardrobe. Thinking that a door in the wall led to a closet, she pulled at it, and then pushed at it, but it would not open.

“I think they’re connected,” she said as she poked her head into his room. Laurel walked across the carpet and flipped the lock, opening his cabin up to hers.

“Good show, Darling,” Christopher smiled. “Just to keep up appearances, I think you should remember to use
your
door whenever you come and go from the hallway. It would be unseemly to have you going in and out of my cabin.”

“How long did you say it would take us to get to England?” she asked.

“A week usually. Six days at best.”

“What will we do until then? It seems like an awfully long time to be stuck on a ship.”

“We won’t do anything really – that is the beauty of it,” he said. “Of course, I suppose we could begin by teaching you proper table etiquette. You won’t be able to dine with the other passengers until you have mastered it.”

“Why?” Laurel asked.

“Because, it is like my mother always told us when we were growing up – you can always tell an outsider by their table manners. There are a great many things one can fake in polite society, but not knowing how to comport yourself at dinner is
not
one of them.”

“I had no idea that my manners were so horrendous.”

“They aren’t,” Christopher reassured her. “However, you will thank me later for sparing you the embarrassment of taking you in to dinner unprepared.”

“What other things will I need to know to survive in your world?” she asked. “Do you speak another language that I should learn?”

“
Actually
, learning French would probably do you good – or at least key phrases – and German too, if you can manage. Laurel, you joke when you call it ‘my world’, but you will find that it is very different from life in the States.”

She took his word for it and moved on. “Will you tell me about your family? I know you’ve mentioned once or twice that you have a brother and a sister, but you’ve never really said anything about them.”

“Where to begin…my sister, Kate, is actually my half-sister. She is my mother’s only child from her first marriage. I don’t remember how the man died, but somehow my father ended up marrying my mother…I think it would be best to stop right here and tell you that my father was the Marquess of Amesbury.”

Laurel had no idea what that meant, and she told him so.

“A marquess is a hereditary title granted by the king, passed down from father to oldest son. It’s less than a duke but more than an earl.”

“But what does that really even mean?”

“For me, it doesn’t mean anything since I’m only a second son. However, for my elder brother Jonathan, it meant that when my father died he inherited the title,” Christopher explained. “It’s a very daunting responsibility.”

Laurel was beginning to understand. “And why are you called ‘Lord Christopher’?”

“Out of respect for my being a son of the Marquess of Amesbury. Only the children of dukes and marquesses are given that honor.”

“So you’re important?”

Christopher could not help but laugh. “No. In the grand scheme of things, I am not important.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Even though it was cold, Laurel stood on the boat deck, shivering and numb, but glad to be out of her cabin. She looked out across the endless white-capped water that melted into the blurry gray sky. It was not homesickness, she told herself, but boredom that had slowly began to gnaw at her. Of course she would miss her friends, her town—she had never left it, even for a night—yet Laurel was certain that she would miss Christopher even more if she had stayed behind, and that once she was off the ship, everything else would fall into place.

Once or twice she had awoken after daylight in a panic thinking she had overslept and was late for the mill. If she weren’t sleeping, she was eating, and since Christopher rarely let her leave their cabin, her days were boring for someone so accustomed to rarely having any free time at all. No wonder proper young ladies learned many different languages, how to sing and play the piano, and even lawn tennis—they were not allowed to do anything worthwhile!

“Laurel!” Christopher yelled from the doorway, but the roaring wind drowned out his words. “
Laurel!
”

She spun around. He had half-frightened her with his screaming.

“I was worried when you were not in your cabin. You should not be out here,” he said. “Haven’t I told you not to leave the room without me?”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that I can’t
stand
sitting in there all day long. Not when there’s a perfectly good ocean to come and look at.”

His pale blue eyes darted to the choppy sea, then back at her. She could tell that he was angry, but it was slowly fading. “At least look out from the window, you’re practically blue!”

Laurel had forgotten all about her frozen hands and clattering teeth a half hour ago. “I never realized how small I was…not just compared to the world, but to all the people in it. There’s so much that I don’t know, and half of it I never even realized existed!”

“Don’t be overwhelmed,” Christopher said, understanding how difficult all of this change must be for her. “Once we make it off the ship, you have a lifetime to learn. And whether or not you learn your forks is not important to me, so long as you are happy.”

She was just about to reach up and brush his windswept hair back when she saw the muscles in his throat jump. Before she could turn around, a shrill voice grated in her ears.

“Lord Christopher Brayles!” the tall woman shrieked from beneath a mountain of luxurious furs. “I am sure that you do not remember me, but when I saw your face, I knew it was you. Mrs. Meade—we met last year while my daughter Sophia was in England. She still is in England, actually. She lives there now w
ith her husband.
”

“I see,” Christopher said. He couldn’t care less who the girl was, whom she had married, and where she now lived.

A party of matrons, also draped in furs and crowned with hats covered in stuffed birds, crept from behind a corner. Laurel thought they looked like a huge swamp monster – half bird, half beast, and not unlike the creatures invented back home to scare little children from wandering too far into the woods. It took all of her self-control not to burst right out and laugh at them.

“You really
must
join us for dinner tonight,” Mrs. Meade announced loudly enough for all of her friends to hear.

With so many witnesses, it was difficult for Christopher to decline her invitation without appearing very rude. He dreaded their company, but most importantly, he did not want Laurel to be flayed alive right there at the table.

“Of course you will come!” she decided. “And you will come too, Miss…”

“Miss Graham,” Laurel said.

The gaggle of middle-aged women all looked very pleased with themselves at the prospect of having such a handsome and distinguished guest in their company for the evening meal. Perhaps he would be just the first rung in the climb of society for their families during their visit to Europe. Mrs. Meade gleamed as the endless bragging of all her ‘connections’ in England finally paid off. There would be no question as to where she stood in her friends’ eyes now that
she
knew Lord Christopher Brayles, brother to the Marquess of Amesbury!

Christopher growled as he stomped into the cabin adjoining his. “That dress is not at all suited for dinner!”

Laurel stared down at her red velvet dress in disbelief. “But I wore it to dinner at the hotel. You didn’t say anything about it then.”

“That was because it was not a
formal
dinner. What happened to that gold silk gown?” he asked as he dug through her trunks. When he found it, he thrust it into her hands. “Put this on.”

She needed help getting to the narrow buttons down the back of her dress, so Christopher had to help her out of it. Women’s clothing was ridiculous in his opinion – too many fasteners, and much too fussy. It was no wonder that they needed their own army of servants just to help them dress and style their hair!

The gold silk gown was accented with cream-colored lace and pleated panels of chiffon that trailed along the floor. Paired with the quadruple-strand pearl choker and earrings that Christopher had surprised her with, Laurel’s gown went from passable to almost enviable.

She held on to his arm with hands encased in soft white kid all the way up to her elbows. Although she was terrified, Laurel could not help but glance up at Christopher with admiration. It was the second time she had seen him in his black evening clothes, but he still managed to take her breath away. While the verdict may have still been out on his personality, no one could ever deny that he was not jaw-droppingly handsome.

“Remember, nod politely and do not speak unless spoken to. They may think you daft, but at least you won’t be calling attention to yourself.” Christopher paused just before they crossed the threshold of the first class dining room. “I can forgive a mistake, but not everyone else will be so kind.”

“Oh
there
you are, Lord Christopher!” Mrs. Meade exclaimed when she spotted them at the doorway. “Right over here! Please have a seat.”

She ushered them to the long oval table, filled with indistinguishable faces, all turned up to see the new arrivals. Laurel, who had been ignored, paled beneath their gaze as she followed in the old woman’s wake.

“No no, Dear! You mustn’t sit
there
,” Mrs. Meade snatched Laurel’s small arm as she started to take the seat next to Christopher. She dragged her around to the opposite side of the table and urged her to take the vacant chair between two white-whiskered old men.

Their hostess went from face to face, giving names to each pallid form.
Mrs. Such-and-such…Mr. So-and-so…the Whomevers from Wherever.
They all looked the same to Laurel, and as the waiter served the cream of celery soup, they all ate the same way as well.

“I am so glad that you took the time to visit our country,” Mrs. Meade commented as she spooned the opaque yellow liquid to her mouth. “So often we Americans travel to England, but so very few English ever travel to America.”

Christopher did not think any loyal British subject would
ever
want to go to America, and that it was no wonder Americans were clamoring across the ocean to come to England. What he saw of the United States was dirty, backward, and plain. Even their women, save Laurel, left much to be desired.

“Did you happen to see
Floradora
, Lord Christopher? I saw it when we were in London last year, but I hear that it is currently doing very well on Broadway.”

“I’m afraid not,” he replied.

A gentleman from across the table looked up at them as he spooned his soup away from himself. “I am sure His Lordship had many more important matters to attend to during his stay.”

“Of course!” Mrs. Meade said. “I did not mean to imply that you had nothing better to do with your time. Why, I am sure you were very busy, Lord Christopher!”

He quirked an eyebrow, wishing the woman would stop grasping at straws for the sake of conversation.

“And you, Miss Graham?” the enormous matron inquired, turning her focus to the unsuspecting young lady at the far end of the group. “What brings you to England?”

“Curiosity, Ma’am. I’ve recently found the time to travel, and I thought I’d start there.”

“Did you really? It would seem that a woman as young as yourself would have some sort of reservations about traveling
alone
halfway across the world just because she ‘found the time’.”

At that point, Christopher could have choked the woman. She was blatantly calling attention to Laurel’s lack of a chaperone, and therefore, reminding everyone of her questionable friendship with him. It was rude and, judging by the reactions of the other dinner guests, unappreciated.

A kind-hearted old woman came to their rescue. “I think it is remarkable the way young ladies are taking control of their lives these days. When
I
was young, we could hardly be left in a room by ourselves, let alone travel.”