Shipwrecked With The Captain

‘Fix my hair like yours,’ Lady Rebecca said.

Claire pulled Lady Rebecca’s hair in a simple knot at the back of her head, feeling inexplicably sad to make Lady Rebecca as plain as she.

‘Let me do yours now.’ Lady Rebecca removed Claire’s hairpins and her hair fell on to her shoulders. She brushed Claire’s hair high on her head and, with a little pomade, twisted curling tendrils around her face.

Claire and her likeness gazed in the mirror again and laughed. They had indeed traded images.

There was a rap at the door.

‘Answer the door as me.’ Lady Rebecca grinned.

Impersonate a lady? ‘I could not.’

Lady Rebecca gave her a little push towards the door. ‘Of course you can!’

Claire straightened her spine as Lady Rebecca sat back down at the table.

Taking a deep breath, Claire opened the door.

It was a seaman deftly balancing a tray as the boat continued to pitch. ‘Some refreshment, m’lady.’ He took her to be Lady Rebecca!

The lovely clothes made Claire feel like a lady. ‘Thank you.’

Would he also assume Lady Rebecca was the governess? Claire gestured to her. ‘Miss Tilson passes the time with me. Will you bring her food here for her?’

‘That I will, miss.’ The crewman stepped into the cabin and placed the tray on the table right in front of Lady Rebecca. He returned a moment later with two more trays. ‘Your maid, miss?’

Claire looked to Lady Rebecca for guidance, but the lady turned away.

Claire finally answered, ‘My—my maid is resting. Perhaps you might leave her tray here, as well? We will tend to her.’

The seaman bowed. ‘Very good, miss.’ He placed both trays on the table.

When he left, Claire put her hand on her chest to still her rapidly beating heart.

‘I was afraid he would notice we look alike,’ Lady Rebecca said. ‘He must have glimpsed me when he left the trays.’

The crewman had taken no more notice of Lady Rebecca dressed as Claire than the handsome gentleman had done in the companionway.

Claire knew why. ‘A governess is not important enough to notice, my lady.’

She joined Lady Rebecca at the table and they continued to talk as they partook of the bread, cheese and ale the crewman had brought. Claire relaxed in this woman’s company. She forgot their difference in status and felt as comfortable as if they were sisters.

Rebecca was apparently feeling a similar kinship. ‘I believe we should call each other by our given names,’ she said. ‘It seems silly to be formal to one’s mirror image.’

Claire was flattered. ‘If you desire it...Rebecca. Then I am Claire to you.’

‘Claire!’ She grinned.

Claire felt emboldened. ‘Might you tell me now why you do not wish to be married?’ Marriage was what every woman wanted, was it not? ‘Now that we are no longer formal?’

Lady Rebecca—Rebecca, she meant—turned solemn. ‘A woman gives up everything by marrying. Any wealth or property she might have. Any right to decide for herself what she wishes to do.’ Her chin set. ‘If I am to give up everything, it should be to a man who loves me and respects me and will not confine me.’

Those were lofty sentiments. But life rarely fulfilled one’s deepest wishes. ‘And this man?’ Claire asked.

Rebecca grimaced. ‘I met him only once. He merely wished to assure himself I could produce an heir.’

‘But, of course he would want an heir,’ Claire responded. ‘Especially if he has a title and property.’ Gentlemen, especially peers, needed an heir.

‘He does.’ Rebecca tapped her pewter tankard with her fingernail.

‘Is the gentleman wealthy enough to provide for you?’ Claire asked.

‘He is said to be prosperous,’ Rebecca replied. ‘He must be, because he is willing to marry me with a mere pittance for a dowry.’

She certainly did not look as if she had a mere pittance for a dowry.

‘Will you tell me who he is?’ Claire asked.

Rebecca shrugged. ‘Lord Stonecroft.’

This was not a name Claire knew, but, then, why would she?

‘Baron Stonecroft of Gillford.’ Rebecca said the name as if biting into rancid meat.

‘Ah.’ Now Claire understood. ‘You were hoping for a higher title than baron. I mean, you said you are the daughter of an earl.’

Rebecca sniffed. ‘I care nothing for that.’

Then, what? ‘Did he seem like a cruel man, then? Is that your objection?’

Rebecca sighed. ‘I do not believe there is precisely anything to object to in him. I simply do not wish to marry him.’

‘Refuse, then.’ Surely this lady had choices.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. ‘My brother—my half-brother—says I am too much of a burden for him to wait for me to find a husband I would like. I’ve refused every offer he’s arranged for me. This time he made certain. I will be turned out without a penny if I do not marry Lord Stonecroft.’ Her face turned red. ‘I’ve no doubt he means what he says.’

Claire knew how it felt to have no choices. Her heart wrenched in sympathy. ‘How sad. One would hope a brother would understand. Family should understand, should they not?’

Rebecca gave her a curious look. ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters? Any family at all?’

Claire’s throat tightened with emotion. ‘I am alone in the world. Any relations are too distant to be concerned with me.’

‘My parents are gone,’ Rebecca responded in a like tone. ‘And my brother might as well be dead. He said he never wishes to see me again. Ever. Even if he visits England. He made that very clear.’

Another way they were alike. Both alone. Both without parents. Lady Rebecca went on to say her father died two years before, her mother, a decade ago.

At least she’d known her mother. Claire’s mother had died giving birth to her; her father, over five years ago.