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Good God. CeCe was forever telling me I’m obtuse, but surely, I would have seen slights of that order. CeCe was the naughtiest of the three of us. I couldn’t afford to be, and Kat was too… too… aware of her place within the family.
Did I suspect? Have I always known that Kat felt abandoned and unwanted?
A door opens down the corridor, and I quickly step back, trying to look as though I’m stepping forward.
“My love,” I say and fight a smile at her narrowed glare. My attempts to wear her down are foolishly naïve. Whatever she feels for me is far more complicated than words of endearment.
“Montague?”
Disorientated, I stop, shake my head. Kat is scowling at someone behind me. I swing around to face my nemesis.
“Lady Katherine?” Montague waves. “Good God!” He falters with the rolling ship. “How do you come to be on this ramshackle vessel?”
“It’s Lady Bentwood,” I admonish. We both know he needs no reminding. If anyone can encourage Kat’s self-sabotage, it is Montague. “Shouldn’t you be on the continent?” I challenge.
“Trouble getting a ship.”
He takes a few tentative steps closer.
“You’re going to the South Seas?” Kat asks with the innocence of a child.
“Kat,” I start to explain, but Montague’s laughter overrides my words.
“The South Seas?” He’s doubling over, creating a spectacle. “Did you really think this vessel would get you past Gibraltar?” He looks at me quizzically. “Are you such a fool, Bentwood?”
“Of course not,” I snap.
It is too late to explain our journey, the surprise of it. That Kat’s stuffy, stiff husband wanted to give her excitement and adventure beyond the close quarters of a ship.
I’d hoped to win her heart. CeCe instigated this whole enterprise, bar Montague. She would explain it in a trice, but I’m not as nimble at extricating myself from falsehoods, even if they’re birthed from the best of motives. Impossible with Montague at hand.
I am saved by an unlikely source as Lady Eleanor says, “Your husband has something far more interesting planned than sailing around the cape, my dear, but it looks like this rogue rather spoiled it.”
Lady Eleanor couldn’t know my plans. Or could she?
“Bentwood?”
Kat has risen, managing to reach the space between Montague and myself when another roll has her tumbling toward that rogue.
I pull her to my side, grateful she doesn’t resist.
“I will explain it all, after we have eaten.”
Fortunately, the stewards are putting food on the table. Kat smiles as one lifts a lid. The scent of kippers perks her up.
“You must be famished,” I tease. Delay the morning meal and Kat gets fierce. Something Montague wouldn’t know.
“Ravenous.”
She studies the table.
Montague steps back, paler, sweat beading on his forehead. Mal de mer and kippers. Rough combination.
“Where would you like us?” I ask, prepared for societal protocol.
“Here,” she directs. “Sit here, beside Lady Eleanor.” Who is already seated on the far side of the table. Kat settles in the seat opposite, leaving the spot beside her for Montague.
“Not at the head of the table?” I ask, rankled.
