Loving the Earl: A Loveswept Historical Romance (2 page)

She squeezed her fingers together, bunching her skirts as an overpowering need to scurry back down that gangplank seized her. Sebastian would be furious when he discovered her gone
and Betsy still at home.

Shaking off the need to run back to solid ground, Claire straightened her shoulders and continued onto the ship.

Once on board she fought her way to the railing among the crush of the other passengers, but there she found she was alone in her wish to wave good-bye to England.

As the ship’s sails snapped full with the brisk breeze, her gaze moved to the famous white cliffs of Dover, her last sight of England for a very long time. She could hardly believe she was finally here, after so many years of dreaming. After so many years of living under the iron fist of her abusive husband, of the prying eyes of the ton, of the stifling love of her brothers. After long nights of swearing to herself that someday she would escape it all.

And now she had.

Nathan leaned against the railing and watched the lights of Calais bob in time with the ship. Frustration roiled through him. It took only a few hours to sail to Calais from Dover but the ship left England late and they missed the high tide that would have taken them straight to Calais’s shore. Now they were stuck offshore for the night while they waited for the morning tide.

He reached into his pocket to retrieve the letter that changed his world and his beliefs but realized that it was in his cabin, drying, because some damn chit had scattered his papers through the mud. He added
her
to his list of curses and pushed away from the railing to head to his cabin and at least try to sleep.

Damn. He still had to check on Sebastian’s sister. Why the hell he agreed to help Sebastian Addison was beyond him. The bigger question should be why Addison even approached him in the first place. Everyone knew Nathan Ferguson, Lord Blythe, was unreliable. And, of course, he’d proven that again tonight by not searching out Lady Hartford to see if she was faring well on this voyage.

He recalled bits of the conversation he’d had with Addison the morning three days ago when Addison had asked the favor. To be honest, Nathan had still been half in his cups and hadn’t yet gone to bed while most people were nearly finished with their day. The conversation was a blur to him. Addison had told Nathan that Lady Claire was traveling to France with her old
nanny.

It had been her nanny, correct?

Yes, Nathan was sure of it.

“Why would your sister not procure passage on one of your ships?” he’d asked, referring to Nicholas Addison’s company that was fast becoming the biggest shipping company in England and the American colonies.

“She did,” Addison said. “Or rather, I secured passage for her, then I discovered through one of Nicholas’s acquaintances that she went behind my back and made her own plans.”

“Why the devil would she do something like that?” Blythe’s head ached, and the noise from the coffeehouse hadn’t helped.

“Claire is headstrong. She has it in her mind to tour the Continent since she missed out on what she terms ‘an adventure.’ I’m willing to allow her a little freedom but I’m damned if I’ll allow her to go flitting about foreign countries without at least some protection. All I ask is that you watch out for her until she reaches France. I don’t want her falling prey to the con artists and thieves that haunt the docks. She has letters of introduction from me and letters from my bank in the event she needs money. Once she reaches Paris, I suspect she’ll attend balls and do a bit of shopping. Betsy will rein her in if need be, and Betsy has been told to inform me of Claire’s whereabouts and actions.”

“Wait a moment,” Nathan said, a memory coming to him. “Claire. Wasn’t she the one who nearly ran away with that rascal? What was his name? The one who owed nearly everyone money.”

Addison had chuckled but the look around his eyes was strained and guarded. “That was long ago. She’s … Well, that was long ago.” He leaned forward. “I haven’t told Claire that you will be watching out for her and I prefer to keep it that way.”

“I doubt she’d even recognize me, Addison, it’s been forever and a day since we’ve seen each other. But why me?”

Certainly there were more reliable gentlemen on the ship. Nathan was the last person Addison should charge with watching his sister. After all, he was a despot. Society said so and he wasn’t in much of a position to dispute it. Opening his own gaming hell had been his way of thumbing his nose at those who already thought the worst of him—and of ensuring that his mother kept her nose out of his life.

Nathan couldn’t remember what Addison’s answer had been. Neither did he care at that point. In the end, he’d agreed. He was sure Addison probably gave him a description of Claire, but Nathan couldn’t recall. At the time, he remembered a young girl with brown hair who used to follow him and Nicholas about and pester them with questions. Who chattered nonstop until both boys were sorely tempted to toss her in the lake.

Addison assured Nathan that Lady Claire was well chaperoned so maybe it didn’t matter that he’d yet to search her out. Yet his conscience wouldn’t allow him to shirk this duty. He owed it to his friend, the only one who’d stood by him when his life fell apart after his father’s death.

He would locate the captain and discover what cabin Lady Claire was in. In the morning he would make certain she was well taken care of. When they reached Calais, he would ensure that she was safe and then wash his hands of her.

A soft shuffle of feet had him looking to his left and pausing in wonder. There
she
stood. The cheeky minx from the dock. The one who nearly ruined his papers.

Claire closed her eyes and lifted her head, inhaling the briny scent of the sea. The soft ocean breeze brushed her skin and spread its fingers through her hair, leaving an intoxicating sense of freedom in its wake.

Even the gentle slap of the water against the bow seemed to whisper,
freedom, freedom, freedom.

It felt good to be above deck for the first time since setting sail from Dover. She’d spent the day in her cabin to give credence to the fib she told the crew that her maid was seasick. It would raise eyebrows and cause whispers if it were discovered she was traveling alone at a time when she needed to be inconspicuous. Besides, she didn’t want to run into Lord Blythe.

When she landed in Calais she would find another lady’s maid before she set off for Paris. There had to be some young girl willing to travel with her. Of course Claire couldn’t pay her much. When she first entered her cabin and found that her bag wasn’t there, she realized the man she had given it to wasn’t a seaman but a thief who’d absconded with it and now she didn’t have her letters of introduction or the notes to Sebastian’s banks.

She could hear Sebastian’s voice in her head.
You need a keeper, Claire.

No, what she needed was to live her life her way. So she lost one piece of luggage. It wasn’t the end of the world. She’d figure it out. The important thing was that she was
free.

“Good evening.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the greeting and swung around to find
him
standing next to her. Nathaniel Ferguson, Lord Blythe. The man she’d nearly run over on the dock. The notorious rake and scoundrel of London society. Richer than Midas himself, but with a reputation no matchmaking mama could overlook and an appearance no debutante could ever forget.

And Sebastian’s friend.

“Good evening.” She swept a windblown lock of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. The action drew his dark gaze to that spot before it slid down her neck, leaving her suppressing a shiver of apprehension.

She’d almost forgotten how big he was.

“How are your knuckles?” he asked. “Not too bruised, I hope.”

Nervously her gaze flickered to his hands. Big hands. Big fingers. Just like the rest of him.

“A bit sore but nothing to worry about,” she said. “Were your papers terribly ruined?”

“I managed to salvage the important ones.” He looked around, his sharp gaze searching the empty deck.

Was he supposed to meet someone? Had she unintentionally stumbled upon an assignation? Rumor had it that Lord Blythe was always holding a deck of cards in his hands, a glass of whiskey or a willing woman. Sometimes even two out of the three.

“If you’ll excuse me.” She tried to sidle past him. He didn’t seem to remember her but she feared if she stayed longer, he just might. Of course she’d been out of society for so long, and the last time they saw each other she had been a young girl, so maybe this time luck would be on her side.

He stepped out of her way and at that moment a gust of wind sent her shawl slithering down her arm, whipping the end toward Blythe. He caught it in his large hand.

He watched her intently with a focus that made her heart skip a few beats.

His other hand came up and seemed to hang between them until it finally descended lightly upon her shoulder.

He adjusted her shawl, then released the end he was holding.

“Is there someone I can fetch to take you back to your cabin? A chaperone, perhaps?” The deep, scratchy sound of his voice tickled her spine.

She thought of Alice and swallowed a spurt of anger at her maid for leaving her in such a predicament. “My companion took ill. I needed to get out of the cabin for a bit. It’s been a long day. Nursing her.” How easily the lie rolled off her tongue.

“I hope she is on the mend.”

“Oh. Well.” She waved a hand in the air. “It’s the ship. Seasickness.” Good Lord, could she at least speak in a complete sentence? “It’s unfortunate we had to drop anchor for the night.” Just her luck. If they’d docked this evening like they were supposed to, she wouldn’t have had to escape her cabin for fear she’d go mad with the walls closing in on her. And she wouldn’t have encountered Lord Blythe.

“I hope the delay doesn’t affect your plans.” He folded his hands behind his back, and Claire found it a little easier to breathe.

“Not at all, Lord Blythe.”

She froze. Damnation! They’d yet to be introduced, at least that he remembered. She should never have addressed him by his title if she wanted to remain anonymous.

His look sharpened, his eyes seeming to glitter in the reflection of the moon. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage, I’m afraid. It appears you know my name but I don’t know yours.”

Words turned to dust in her mouth. She’d deftly stepped into
that
, hadn’t she? And she’d been so happy he hadn’t recognized her.

He sketched a small, perfect bow. “Nathaniel Ferguson, Lord Blythe, my lady.”

Claire’s stomach fell to her toes. She couldn’t possibly introduce herself to this man, yet what choice did she have? If she refused … Well, that just didn’t happen. It would be the height of rudeness. If she accepted, she ran the risk of him connecting her to her brother. Better to brazen it out and hope he didn’t know her married name. Hope that maybe he’d been drinking and wouldn’t remember this meeting.

Except he didn’t look like he’d been drinking. In fact, to her great surprise, Lord Blythe looked very much in control of all his faculties.

She managed a curtsy. “Claire H—” She paused, a shocking thought interrupting her.
He doesn’t need to know your real name.
“Claire Henderson, my lord.”

No title. No connection to her deceased husband or her brothers. Laughter bubbled up inside her. How unbelievably freeing was this? She could be anyone she chose to be.

“Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Miss Henderson.”

Everything about him was proper and gentlemanly. It confused her, for this wasn’t the Lord Blythe she’d heard whispered about in ballrooms and drawing rooms.

“Allow me to escort you to your cabin.” He held out his arm for her to take. He loomed above her, so close she could smell the dark, spicy scent of him mixed with the fresh air of the ocean breeze.

Claire’s gaze went from his arm to his face and back. She couldn’t walk with him. Couldn’t take him to her very empty cabin where no maid was seasick.

His brows lowered and his lips turned down at the corners.

She licked her suddenly dry lips, tasting the salt from the air. “I—”

“Lord Blythe!”

Blythe’s arm dropped to his side and he stepped away as they both turned toward the voice of a man walking toward them.

“There you are, my lord. You’d said you would be up for a round of piquet and I promised you some of the excellent whiskey from my personal stash.”

The ship’s captain turned his gaze to Claire and his smile widened. “I see you’ve made the acquaintance of Lady Chesterman. My lady, I trust your maid is feeling better.”

Claire’s stomach fell. She peeked up at Blythe. At first his eyes widened in surprise and she swore he jerked away from her. Then his eyes narrowed in suspicion and his lips thinned, making him appear angry.

“If you wanted a stroll about the ship, I would have sent one of my trusted sailors to escort you,” the captain said.

“It’s quite all right, Captain. I meant only to walk a bit to get some fresh air. My cabin, while nicely appointed, was becoming too stifling.”