The Substitute Countess

Well, he had never been called that before. He answered with a brief nod and bade her goodnight. He wondered if he would sleep. Her calm and trusting nature was making it far too effortless for him to take advantage of her, and guilt was nudging him. Not strongly enough to make him cry off the proposal, though. As he saw it, neither of them had another viable choice. Perhaps she simply recognized that, as well.

The next morning, Jack noted that her mood had not changed overnight. She smiled up at him as if he were the Second Coming. Her quiet acceptance of the impending voyage made him wonder again if she were pretending away any trepidation.

At any rate, he was glad to see color in her cheeks and a barely subdued sparkle in those pretty brown eyes. Her features were not that remarkable, rather commonplace when taken individually. Her hair was the color of pale honey, her eyebrows and lashes several shades darker. She had an oval face, pert little nose, bright brown heavily lashed eyes and a sweetly curved and quite mobile mouth. All nice-enough attributes, but it was their combination and her ever-changing expression that lent her beauty.

Though there was nothing static about those expressions, they generally ranged from sweetly accepting to thoughtfully questioning. She obviously avoided excitement, outright anger or anything approaching hysteria. Why that bothered him, he could not say, except that he had seen the fire in her once and wondered how she kept it banked. He should ask her for lessons.

He had, of course, noted her lithe figure, too. What man would not do that if in the company of a woman he might marry.

She was small of stature, a head shorter than he, and not greatly endowed at the top, though her tiny waist made her seem so at first glance.

He could not seem to dismiss his wonder at her composure. It had to be a natural acquisition from the contemplative sisters who had raised her. Yet underneath that calm, he knew there lurked a more passionate streak in her nature. Hadn’t he glimpsed that at Orencio’s? Righteous anger, that had been, and not what Jack wished to stoke. It was the passion in her that he was looking for, of course.

Pretense or not, she treated him like her liberator now, so perhaps he really was. It gave him a sense of satisfaction to think so. And it almost justified in his mind what he definitely meant to do.

Chapter Three

The next afternoon, they stood at the rail of the Minotaur, a trade vessel on which he had purchased their passage to England, and watched the port of La Coruña grow distant.

Jack appreciated the way Laurel adapted to sea travel, as if it were some great undertaking to be quietly savored. He only hoped mal de mer didn’t claim her if the seas grew rough. At the moment she genuinely seemed to be embracing all that was new to her with an equanimity that amazed him.

“You love the sea,” she guessed, staring out at the waves.

“Grew up next to it and then on it,” he said truthfully. “As a child I dreamed of traveling to distant shores, having adventures, sailing my own ship.”

“Did you?” she asked. “And have you seen the world already?”

He inclined his head as he slapped his hands lightly against the rail. “Aye, I’ve seen most of it.”

“Then you must tell me about your travels. Have you had adventures enough?” she asked with a knowing smile. “Ready to settle now?”

“Ready as I will ever be,” he answered ruefully, unwilling to delve too deeply into what life might be like as a land-bound lord stuck with tallying rents and arguing with stuffy peers. Restricting himself to one woman.

His father had never done that, he recalled with shame. While his mother remained in Plymouth producing candles to sell and essentially supporting them with the profits from the family business she had inherited, his father sailed off constantly. He enjoyed adventures and, as Jack had learned when he went to sea with him, cavorted with other women whenever they docked in foreign ports.

Jack was no saint and had taken to bedsport as soon as he was of an age to do so, but he resented his father’s excuse for infidelity. It was an excuse, he had realized early on, not a valid reason to stray, if there existed such a reason. Marriage required fidelity.

Could he remain faithful? Well, he would have to if he was to keep his honor, Jack decided. Though he might have lied a little to attain what he must in this case, he would never cheat. A man had to draw the line somewhere.

He quickly dismissed the thought and changed the topic. “Were they kind to you at the convent?”

“Of course. Our Lady of Cambre is not only a convent, but a convent school and it afforded me an enviable education. Not all of the pupils there came as infants, nor did most of the nuns. While they probably wished for all of us to enter the order, they were aware that most would leave, return to their homes and marry.”

“But you did not expect to do so.”

She shook her head. “Never. But my point is that the sisters took us as individuals, respected and enhanced whatever natural gifts they saw in each and prepared us accordingly. I was given to understand that females are not supposed to have intellect enough to master many of the studies offered there.” She glanced up at him with a grin. “Not to boast, but I excelled at Maths. Numbers fascinate me.”

Jack pressed the heels of his hands against the rail and resisted the urge to push away and pace. He needed to curb his impatience with all of this conversation. A man of action, he would much rather live in the moment than delve into the past as they were doing. “Maths, eh? Well, I suppose you will need that knowledge when counting linens and silver.”

“Not only that. I can help you with accounts as I did Sister Josephina,” she offered with a decisive nod.

Jack felt a stab of foreboding. It would not do for her to examine their finances and discover that he had assumed her fortune. “I’m sure I can manage that on my own.”

He quickly turned from the subject of accounts. “I’ll wager your Spanish is also enviable. You have the barest trace of an accent, did you know? It’s quite charming.”

She smiled sweetly at the compliment. “How nice of you to say so. English was always prevalent, though the nuns and students were a good mix of nationalities. Languages were spoken interchangeably at times, so we received a working knowledge, if not fluency, in several tongues,” she explained. “My French is atrocious, I’m told, and my Italian, little better. What of you?”

“I know enough to get by. Trading required that.” He looked out across the sea, arms folded on the rail, the tense muscles of his legs working against the motion of the waves. How could she simply stand there, unmoving, untrammeled, perfectly tranquil in the face of such an uncertain future? Was that ability inborn or learned, he wondered again. No doubt it came with schoolroom discipline.

Her formal education certainly surpassed his. “I never went to school,” he admitted. “Mother taught me until I was seven, reading, writing, numbers and so forth. Then my father took me to sea with him as soon as he left the navy and sailed with a sea merchant.”

“Well, you had the basics everyone needs,” she said.

“Just so, and my father tutored me on board as did others with learning who had nothing better to do. I had a practical education rather than classic.”

She smoothed back a strand of hair that had come loose in the wind. The gesture was practiced, not out of any coyness, but because those errant golden curls constantly escaped the severe chignon she wore. Jack thought there might be other rebellious attributes in Laurel waiting to slip their carefully schooled containment.

She sighed as she looked out over the seas. “Practicality is a good thing, isn’t it? I never became proficient at those useful things one needs to know. For instance, I loathe sewing. We embroidered innumerable altar cloths and my stitches were always uneven. My fingers are only now recovering.”

Jack turned and lifted both of her hands to examine her fingertips. They were red from the cold so he enclosed them within his to warm them. “You need never sew another stitch. What of music? Can you play and do you dance?”

She wore a faraway expression. “No. Are those accomplishments necessary for a lady? I’ve always thought I should like to dance if I could be taught.”

“Of course you can. We will arrange for lessons,” Jack promised.

“After we are married?” she asked.

“So you are still of a mind to marry me, Laurel?” he asked, determined to keep his tone light and conversational.

She turned and cocked her head to one side. “I think so, yes. We get on well enough, don’t you think?”

He nodded. “Do you worry that your soul’s mate is out there somewhere waiting to meet you? Most women hold that hope, so I’m led to believe.”

“I told you that is only the stuff of girlish dreams,” she replied with a soft little laugh. “I will be content with a good match.”

Content and also rich and at my mercy, Jack’s conscience reminded him. Would to God, she never found out his real reason for this marriage. He did not want her feeling betrayed. She might even demand a separation if she ever learned of it. That would free him to pursue his own desires and live as he wished, of course, but at what great cost to her feelings and his honor?

“Shall we marry immediately when we arrive in England before anyone knows we’re there?” she asked.

He dared not wait that long. “The wedding itself could pose a problem,” he informed her in case she had not thought of it. He had. “You are Catholic and I am not.”

“Oh.” She looked crestfallen. Then she brightened. “Perhaps the captain could marry us before we get there. I read of that in a novel once. Is it true captains of ships can perform weddings?”

“Well, that would be a romantic tale to tell, wouldn’t it? But considering our stations, our marriage must be recognized by the Church of England and duly recorded in other than a ship’s log. What I meant to ask is if you will mind if there’s no priest, no Catholic service?”

She shot him a wry look. “Did I not suggest a ship’s captain? So if not the captain and not a priest, what shall we do?”

“There is a vicar on board.” He had seen to that, as well as to obtaining a special license and a ring, before leaving England, in the event things progressed this far. It paid to plan ahead for every contingency.