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“And?”
“And how long do you think she will remain that way once we return to Allonshire?”
“The world of the nobility is not new to her, Captain.”
“But de
ceit and the betrayal are. She has been sheltered, a child growing up on the fringes of reality. Hell, Smitty, she wants a loving home filled with warmth and caring.” He raised a sardonic brow. “Now, does that sound like Allonshire to you, my friend?”
“It sounds like something you could easily give to her, if you choose to, my lord.”
“I don’t know what I choose anymore, Smitty. But I will not forfeit my life or my pride for any woman.”
“The giving of warmth and love does not require the relinquishing of self or pride.”
“Why are you intent on pursuing this distasteful, unresolvable topic?” Drake demanded.
“Because you are behaving like a scoundrel,” Smitty shot back, an uncharacteristic flush of anger reddening his weathered face. “And because I care about you, Captain,” he added softly, gently. “Whether you know it or not, you are in love with your wife.”
Absolute silence followed Smitty’s quietly spoken words. Then Drake drew a slow breath.
“I do not believe in love and therefore cannot respond to your statement.” He stepped away from the wheel. “I am going below to rest. I will return to relieve you when I awaken.” He turned to go. “We will not speak of this again, Smitty. Ever. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly clear, Captain.”
“Fine.”
He left Smitty, and the conversation, behind. But, all the way to his cabin Smitty’s words kept resounding in his mind. And he was terrified that they were true.
The messenger paused at the foot of the steep stone steps to gape up at the immense Gothic mansion that sprawled endlessly over acres of flawless land. It was not an unusual reaction from a first time visitor to Allonshire. Few country homes in England could boast its size or brilliant architectural design.
Minutes passed before the thoroughly intimidated messenger remembered his missive and hurried up the steps to deliver it. With great relief he left it in the hands of the stiff-faced butler who answered the door. His job was done.
Within the cavernous marble hallways of Allonshire the butler’s footsteps echoed eerily as he marched to the dining room and approached one of the uniformed footmen who stood before it. Wordlessly he placed the message in his hands, then turned and disappeared.
The footman moved quickly through the arched doorway, past the antique statues, and over to the head of the intricately carved walnut table.
Sebastian Barrett looked up impatiently from his dinner.
“Yes? What is it?”
“Excuse me, my lord. A message has arrived for you.”
“Oh?” Calmly he lifted his napkin to his lips, then dropped it carelessly onto the table. He took the note, dismissing the servant with a curt nod of his head.
Sebastian read the contents three times. He was being regretfully informed that La Belle Illusion had been destroyed by an American military ship. There was no evidence of survivors.
Upstairs in his bed, Grayson Barrett lay ill, possibly dying. Sebastian was aware that he would have to tell his father of Drake’s demise. A most unpleasant task.
Replacing his napkin on his lap, Sebastian continued with his quite delicious meal. The news could wait until after dinner.
Unlike Drake, Alex had no doubt as to what she was feeling. She was totally and irrevocably in love with her husband. Her fears lay elsewhere.
She tossed onto her back in the cabin’s narrow berth, trying to come to grips with her trepidation. Drake had still not proclaimed his love for her, despite his tenderness and his passion, and that worried her. Now that he was back at sea where he belonged, Alex feared that the tenuous thread of their relationship would be broken.
And she had one other fear, one that she hated to admit, even to herself.
Was she strong enough to endure the censure she would receive when she returned to England married … to a sea captain? The gossip would be rampant, the snubs constant and cruel. She did not like those people, and yet they were all that she knew.
