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Her doubt fairly radiated off her.

“Pray tell me, Devin, how our exchanging vows solves a problem for you.”

Devin probably shouldn’t have mentioned that detail during his wholly unromantic proposal. But if this woman were to be his wife, then there would be no secrets between them.

Cupping his nape, he thinned his mouth into a tense ribbon and scuffed a boot on the floor. Even now, halfway across the ocean, Mother’s meddling raised his ire.

“My mother is determined that I should marry into the aristocracy. She has become fanatical and possibly unhinged in her pursuit of that goal. Her grandfather, my great-grandfather, was an earl. She did everything in her power, including convincing a young woman to crawl into my bed in the wee morning hours at a house party, to entrap me into marriage. Thank God, the chit mistook a matron’s room for mine.”

Trinity gasped and pressed a fine-boned hand to her chest. “She did not.”

“She did.” Devin arched an eyebrow. “I shall leave you to imagine the scene when Lady Hornbellow awoke.”

“Good Lord.” Rather than outrage or disbelief, mirth sparkled in Trinity’s blue eyes, and she covered her mouth. Nonetheless, a giggle escaped.

“Was it?” She swallowed another chuckle. “Was it very dreadful?”

“Extremely.” Devin grimaced, his mouth turned down in distaste. “The poor girl, who hasn’t the sense of a potato, did not even think to lie. She admitted she had thought the room was mine, but she’d always confused her right from her left and accidentally mixed up the rooms.”

“Oh, dear.” To her credit, Trinity did not laugh again, but her mouth twitched, and jollity danced in her eyes. “Probably not an ideal candidate for a wife for you, I agree.”

“Exactly.” Devin snorted. “Plus, if she is a month beyond her sixteenth birthday, I shall eat my gloves.”

“You still have not explained how our union would solve your dilemma.” It seemed tenacity was another admirable quality Trinity possessed.

“I am on this ship due to my mother’s interference. I am convinced she will stop at nothing to see me leg-shackled to a blueblood, which by the way, I have no interest in doing. Ever. My father has—had—business ventures all over the world. I decided it was past time for me to take an interest in his enterprises personally.”

“And?” She tapped her toe.

He was rambling.

Get to it, Devin Wesley Rayburn Everingham.

“In short, if I take you to wife—a woman of my choosing whom I admire and respect—Mother will have to cease and desist.”

“You would marry someone you barely know to spite your mother?”

“No, not to spite her. To spare me entrapment in a marriage to a woman I might not be able to stand.” He gave her a devilish wink and a sideways smile. “I can more than stand you.”

He dropped his focus to her cherry-red lips.

Very much more.

Her cheeks glowed pink at his meaning.

“I barely know you, Devin.”

“What do you want to know?”

She stared at him mutely, then gave a rueful shrug and shook her head. “I do not even know how old you are.”

“My full name is Devin Wesley Rayburn Everingham. I am six and twenty. My birthday is March third. My favorite color is red. I like dogs and cats, but not big birds.” He scratched his chin. “A hawk attacked me as a child, and raptors have given me the shivers ever since.”

That caused a tiny smile, more disbelief than true humor.

“I can never have enough plum pudding or crumpets with butter and preserves but cannot abide custard, head cheese, or pickled eggs. I enjoy orchestras but not vocalists as much. I ride, fence, swim, dance, and play the ocarina and pianoforte. I like children, would like to own a parrot someday, and I do not employ a valet.”

Giving a flourishing bow, he grinned. “Now, you now know the most important things about me.”