The Secret Rose (13 page)

She tried to smile. “I was just thinking.”

He pushed away from the door frame and walked toward her, his gait slow and easy. “Upon what troublesome concern were you concentrating, Abby?”

She locked eyes with him. “You, sir.” She took a deep breath. She had to say the words, offer him an escape one last time. Offer herself an escape.

“It’s not too late to change your mind, Ethan. We don’t have to go through with this.”

His brows arched high, his answer to her statement a questioning frown. “Are you having second thoughts? Is my name too high a price to pay even for your precious Fallen Oaks?”

How dare he. “It isn’t necessary for you to marry me to get my ships. I’ve offered them openly in exchange for my estate.”

“Which the creditors will take away from you before you can begin to enjoy your secluded life in the country.”

She smiled an insincere smile. “How noble of you. Your freedom for mine.” She turned her face from him, loath to lower her eyelids and show her defeat, yet unable to match the power of his gaze.

“What brought this on, Abby? Why doubt your decision now?”

“The truth?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Your mother, sir. All the accusations she made the other day, the accusations you refuse to face. The guilt I see in your eyes, guilt that’s been eating away at you like a cancer, growing and festering until I fear you will burst from the need to strike out at something—someone. You don’t have to fulfill all of Stephen’s responsibilities, Ethan. You don’t always have to be his substitute. No one expects it.”

“Is that what you think I am doing?”

“Why else would you demand I marry you? I’ve offered to give you what you want without taking me as your wife.”

“Perhaps it’s not enough.” He took a step closer to her. “Perhaps I
want
to marry you.”

She shook her head. He couldn’t mean that. “Surely you realize Society will think you married me only to take me away from Stephen.”

“Bloody hell, woman! Do you think I care one whit what my mother or Society believes?”

“Yes. I think you have always cared but have refused to let anyone know.”

He froze, every muscle in his body clenched. “Well, I don’t. I learned long ago it does no good to care what anyone thinks, especially my mother.”

“She must have hurt you terribly,” she said, studying the hard look on his face.

“She didn’t hurt me at all. She hardly ever noticed I was around.”

“Which in itself is painful.”

He shrugged, as if whatever he’d felt then no longer mattered.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” she repeated

“Yes, it is. Our intentions have already been announced. I have just returned from my mother’s. Although I doubt you will receive the apology you deserve, she now understands that marriage to you is the only way to save Stephen’s inheritance. Which is the only way she will be able to live in the style to which she is accustomed.” He walked to the sidebar and splashed some brandy into a snifter. “Even though it galls her to know she is indebted to you, she is astute enough to realize when she has been bested.”

“She’s agreed to our marriage?”

“She knows she has no choice but to pretend our decision meets with her approval.” He turned to her, giving her his full attention. “Our marriage will take place in three weeks, after the reading of the banns. By then I will own the ships, and you will have the deed to Fallen Oaks.”

“And then what?”

He walked to the windows and pulled the draperies closed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.”

Abigail rose. She was unwilling to finish this discussion having to look up. “You have been like a trapped animal, pacing back and forth in a small, confining cage, closing draperies so no one can see inside, refusing to allow me to leave the house. What has you so concerned?”

“It’s nothing.”

“I think not,” she countered. “And I think I know what it is.”

The look of shock on his face took her aback. She suddenly realized that the secret he was keeping from her had nothing to do with his mother, or her accusations, or what Society thought of him. And she was frightened—for him.

He took several steps toward her, not stopping until he could reach out and touch her. “What secret do you think you know?”

She shook her head and turned away from him.

“What? Or are you afraid that if I divulge my secret, I’ll expect you to reveal one of yours?”

“I told you, I have no secrets.”

“Oh, yes,” he said on a laugh. “You are enveloped by them. You are a woman shrouded in mystery. I still have your father’s message, don’t forget. His warning was clear. You have something to hide, and it’s only a matter of time until I discover what it is.”

She felt as if she’d been struck.

“I have a number of questions to ask you.” He stepped up behind her and turned her in his arms. “Will you answer just one of them? Allow me to solve just one of your mysteries?”

She forced herself to focus on his disconcerting eyes. She would not be able to answer even if she wanted. Her mouth was too dry to try.

“I think you were the last to see Stephen before he left. I think you know what happened that made him leave so suddenly. Will you tell me what it was?”

A tremor of fear rushed through her. A heavy weight pressed painfully against her chest.

“You’ve repeatedly said you didn’t think Stephen would come back. You must have a reason for believing that. What is it?”

He paused for several uncomfortable seconds.

“What did your father mean when he wrote that you have something of the greatest importance that belongs to Stephen? What do you have, Abby? What is it you won’t give to me?”

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I don’t have anything that belongs to Stephen.”

“Why are you so desperate to keep Fallen Oaks? What is there that you are hiding?”

He towered over her. The muscles at the juncture of his jaw knotted in frustration.

She struggled to pull out of his grasp.

“Who did you go see at the crack of dawn that morning before we left?”

“Stop!”

“Can you give me just one truthful answer?”

She held his gaze, outwardly facing him with all the bravery she could muster, while deep inside she cowered in fear.

“I thought not,” he said, the corners of his lips curving upward. “But someone besides yourself knows. I wager it’s Palmsworth.” He studied her. “Is he the one who can answer all my questions? Is that why he stayed behind at Fallen Oaks? Would he tell your secrets if forced, Abby, or is he such a loyal servant he would take them with him to his grave?”

Her heart leaped to her throat. She couldn’t breathe. “You are only grasping at straws.”

He continued to hold her. “You are terrified I might find out what you are hiding. What do you stand to lose, Abby? Just tell me that.”

She steeled herself, then lifted her chin to face him squarely. “Everything,” she said, wishing the word would not have come out so pathetically weak.

For a long time he did not move. “The day will come when I will find out each of your secrets. A day for which you had best prepare.”

He said no more, but dropped his hands from her and walked over to the bell pull to ring for George.

“Yes, sir,” George said almost immediately.

“Have Bundy bring round the carriage, then have Stella bring her mistress’s cloak and muff.”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded, backing from the room.

“Where are we going?” Abigail asked.

“To the docks. I have arranged a meeting with your father’s old friend Captain Parker. I thought you might like to be present to hear the arrangements that have been made as per your father’s will.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

They stood in uncomfortable silence, neither of them brave enough—or foolish enough—to say more. When she couldn’t stand another minute of the torture, she attempted to break the silence. “Ethan—”

He held out his hand to stop her. “Unless you are offering an answer to one of my questions, I think we have talked enough for today. Here,” he said when Stella came into the room. “Put this on. There’s a chill in the air despite the bright sunshine.”

He wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary.

The gesture seemed tender and considerate. Abigail wanted to turn in his arms and have him hold her like he’d done before.

She wondered what would happen if he found out what she’d done. What they had all done.

She reminded herself that she couldn’t let herself care for him. She couldn’t trust him. Or rely on him to protect her.

Mary Rose would not be all she lost if she did.

. . .

Ethan sat on the seat opposite Abigail as the Langdon carriage rumbled down cobblestone streets that led to the wharf.

What the bloody hell does she have to hide?

He breathed in the heavy air. His lungs took in the smell of the docks like a fish breathes in water. How he missed the sea, the freedom. The power and the vastness. How he missed knifing through turbulent water with a thousand ton of iron and wood beneath his feet.

It wouldn’t be long now. The moment Stephen’s creditors heard he had a clipper ship at his disposal to deliver a shipment of precious China tea, they would extend his credit, and Ethan would be free to leave. By late spring he would be married and could take Abigail and go home. Go far away from here, leaving behind him any reminder of his mother and the Burnhaven legacy.

And Stephen be hanged.

He had saved his brother’s sorry backside twice while he’d been gone, and it was twice too often. Let Stephen squander his inheritance. Ethan didn’t give a damn. Stephen could drown in his expensive brandy while his mother choked on her vicious tongue, and it wouldn’t make any difference to him. Not any longer.

Ethan turned his face away from the window and found Abigail watching him. For all her secrets, there was still something natural that passed between them.

He willed her to keep looking at him, and he smiled when she did just that. She smiled in return—not a wide smile, but a warm smile. It was remarkable how comfortable he was with her once he put her secrets behind him.

“Would you like me to move beside you to keep you warm?” he said.

“No. You’re fine where you are.”

“Very well. Tell me, Abby,” he said, turning to a more serious matter. “How much faith do you have in this longtime friend of your father’s?”

Her eyes opened in astonishment. “Fenny?”

Ethan rolled his eyes. He could just picture a bandy-legged old sea captain. “Yes. Fenny.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I know he’s been with your father for quite some time, and given your father’s age, well…do you think Captain Parker is young enough to command any ship, especially the
Abigail Rose
?”

She leaned back in her seat. Surprise was evident on her face. “Are you worried Fenny might be too old to handle such responsibility?”

“Well, yes. I know what your father’s will stipulates, but before I meet with…Fenny…I’d like to know your opinion.”

“That’s quite revolutionary of you, sir. To ask a simple woman her humble opinion.”

“Does that mean you don’t have an opinion?”

“No, sir. I always have an opinion. It’s just that you are one of the few males I have ever met, other than my father, who has had the courage to ask it.”

“Your father seemed to have great regard for what you thought, and I hope your opinion will make it easy for me to come to a decision.”

“Well, if you’re wondering if poor old Fenny is ready to be put out to pasture, or dry-docked, or lagoon-logged, or wherever it is they put rheumy-eyed, ancient mariners who no longer have their sea legs, the answer is no. I’m sure the doddering old sea dog has a few more voyages left in him.”

“You would even trust him with the
Abigail Rose
?”

Her composure did not waver the smallest bit. “I would trust him with my life.”

Ethan’s brows arched. With a slight tilt to his head, he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “I cannot wait to meet this ancient paragon of noble virtue and most able-bodied sea captain.”

“And I cannot wait for you to meet him.” The smile on her face broadened and seemed to light the whole carriage.

When the carriage pulled up at the end of the street near the docks, Ethan helped her descend. Her steps were light as she made her way across the wooden planks that served as a walkway connecting the long row of shipping offices bearing a variety of renowned titles. They stopped before the painted sign that read
Langdon Shipping
, and Ethan threw open the door. Abigail entered first.

Ethan quickly scanned the room. “Fenny” was obviously late, because the only man to occupy the clean, well-organized shipping office was a muscular sea captain who looked about the same age as himself. The man lifted his head. His dark eyes glowed with recognition when he spotted Abigail. He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet.

There were very few men Ethan had ever been forced to look up to in order to look in a man’s eyes. The man facing him was one such man. He was a good two inches taller than Ethan, with shoulders as broad as his own, and muscled arms that showed years of hard, physical labor. The man’s size and stature were indeed impressive.

The bronzed tan of his skin showed hours spent in the sun. Ethan recognized someone who would do backbreaking work alongside his fellow crew members to get a job done, and Ethan’s respect for him soared.

Whoever this man was, Ethan would make sure he was assigned a place alongside old Captain Fenny. The doddering old sea dog could probably use all the able-bodied help and assistance he could get.

The sailor stepped around the desk and came toward them. “Miss Langdon.” The captain reached out to take Abigail’s hands and held them. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

He did not drop her gaze. Or her hands. “We’ll miss him.”

She nodded as if words would not come. Moisture gleamed in her eyes, and Ethan felt a special connection pass between the two.