Many good wishes had been sent from his English friends and relations, one card issued from his mother in France, as well as a stack written by Louisa’s various acquaintances. Sorting through this chaff, Giles soon came across an envelope with familiar handwriting—Lady Venia Herbert.
He stuffed it into his trouser pocket, and then handed the rest of the mail to his wife. He hunted for his greatcoat, making a hasty excuse, any excuse, to slip from their stateroom for a breath of fresh air.
How curious that her letter arrived on his wedding night. It could be no coincidence.
Giles hastened down the rocking, creaking corridor. He hadn’t paid much attention to the cabin steward’s tour this afternoon, but one ship was built much like any other. After a few wrong turns, he soon found his way to the open deck.
He pushed through the doorway, abandoning the warmth ofCampania’sheated interiors for the frigid, starlit night. He wasn’t alone, but those passengers who gathered at the railings or milled about the deck seemed content with their own business.
Giles walked toward a more secluded area, somewhere shielded from the icy winds whipping off the North Atlantic. He found a quiet corner and opened his letter, using the dull glow of a lantern to examine its contents.
Inside lay a photograph. He turned the likeness in his hands, allowing lamplight and moonlight to play across the familiar features of the woman he’d loved since…since he’d discovered there ever was such a thing.
Venia was darkly beautiful, her face and figure mature. She’d birthed children, though not his—her nursery belonged to her husband, as did her body, by law, yet there was a part of her heart that she kept separate, only for Giles.
He tucked the picture into his breast pocket. This reminder of what he’d been missing brought an ache to his chest, a queasiness worse than any seasickness. He suddenly had little interest in deflowering a doe-eyed virgin.
Giles read the letter, which had enveloped the photograph. He’d expected passionate words, yet found only calm assurance that he needn’t trouble himself overmuch with his ‘gaudy American’ bride. Once the buccaneer was properly bedded and her dowry secured, he would be welcomed back to Herbert House with open arms. He would be pleased, she added in a hastily scrawled postscript, to learn that Herbert had purchased the Granborough debts!
Doubtless, Venia had thought to help. He’d lamented to her over these past months, venting his frustrations over his fiancée’s rowdy friends and common parents, and the bizarre society in which they all moved. Venia would not have wished him to feel honor-bound to his new bride, or to suffer the young woman’s vulgarity any longer than was legally necessary.
In Venia’s mind, she’d eased the yoke of bankruptcy from his shoulders by allowing him to pay his debts to Herbert. All the while, he could pack Miss Thurston Reid off to the country where her fortune—and her presence—could be put to better use.
“Damn it, Venia, what have you done?”
“Saved your skin, she has.”
Giles was startled to find two thugs lurking in the shadows. They hovered just beyond the circle of lamplight in which he stood. “Who the devil are you?”
He needn’t ask. He recognized them as soon as they stepped into view, and had sworn never to find himself under their thumb.
“You work for Herbert,” he spat.
“We are associates of his, tasked with keeping an eye on his investment.”
“I never asked anyone to settle my debts, least of all Herbert. I do not consent to this exchange and want no part of it.”
“You act like it’s a punishment, guv. Consider it a reward for your years of good service.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“How dare you!” Money was the root of all evil. It had destroyed his family and now threatened to cheapen what he and Venia shared.
Giles lashed out at the thugs, but it was two men against one, and they quickly overpowered him. The larger of the pair slammed him against the steel wall of the ship. They pressed his face into the paint until he couldn’t curse, couldn’t breathe. Could barely think.
Herbert had sent these hired toughs to frighten Giles, to ensure his loyalties remained firmly fixed—at least untilCampaniareached Liverpool, where his funds could be accessed and the debt could be satisfied.
When they released him from their hold, his mouth flooded with a dreaded metallic tang, which couldn’t have been ship’s paint or varnish. The bastards had bloodied his lip!
He fished for his handkerchief, pressing the clean linen to his mouth. “Your employer will get his money. Until then, keep away from me.”
“Sorry guv, but we’re on this tin scow together. We’ve got nothing but time, so we’ll be watching you and that missus of yours.”
Oh God, Louisa! He’d forgotten all about her. It was their wedding night and he’d abandoned her in their stateroom.
He hurried back to her, retracing his steps through the labyrinthine corridors of this first-class luxury liner. It may as well have been a galley ship hauling him toward his demise, for he’d been bested, bartered over, and bought. No good could come of this mess he’d got himself into.
Giles staggered from one stateroom to the next, counting the number plates upon the doors. He reached parlour suite twenty-five in near despair, jamming his blood-stained handkerchief into his coat pocket as his trembling hand groped for the doorknob.
The less Louisa knew of his humiliation, the better.
