He beat his way through the tide of travelers, never once losing sight of Louisa. She wore a belted blouse beneath a tailor-made walking suit, so tidy and smart as she stood against the backdrop of the North Atlantic. Giles wasn’t the only fellow admiring her flawless profile, and he wagered that even if the others did not knowwhoshe was, they were attracted towhatshe was—a valiant, adventurous lady who roamed unaccompanied and refused to hide in her stateroom.
He touched his hat brim as he approached her. “Going to jump?”
“Of course not.” She balked. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“It’s only that you look so solemn staring out into the sea.”
“I’m merely contemplating my life, not thinking of ending it.”
Giles understood her disappointment, for he’d felt that same bleak despair—the unfairness of it all! Why had he not been born a richer man?—as he’d braced himself to do what his circumstances required. “The reality of our marriage is not the stuff of dreams, and for that I am sorry, but the deed is done.”
Unlike English ladies, Yankee girls were freer to marry for love, knowing they had inheritances, investments, and loving parents to cushion them financially. So why had Louisa Thurston Reid married him? Not for love, they hardly knew one another.
She was likely as opportunistic as he.
“Did you receive the roses?” he asked. He’d gone to some trouble having them delivered from the florist, stored overnight in the ship’s cold store, and then presented before the first petal drooped.
“Yes,” she answered, dispassionately. “Thank you for the flowers, my lord.”
Giles didn’t like to see her unhappy. He sought to tease her a bit by asking, “Perhaps Her Ladyship would prefer chocolates next time?”
A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips, but faded before it could take shape. “Next time? Tonight, you mean?”
He longed to tell her that the act would never again cause her pain, that someday with the right partner, she would grow to enjoy it, but how could a gentleman explain the complexities of an aristocratic marriage to an innocent young woman from a wholly different culture?
He was sorry he’d hurt her, but couldn’t apologize for doing what was legally required of a husband and a wife. “Cheer up, Louisa, you’ll soon be with child.”
She looked at him with disgust. Americans didn’t understand the importance of breeding heirs, since they could—and often did—leave their fortunes to whomever they wished.
“Surely, the possibility of conception mustn’t come as a surprise to you. The sooner we do our duty, the better.” He leaned toward her to whisper, “Then we’ll be free.”
He’d be free of debt. Louisa would be free of him. She could live in peace and comfort for the rest of her days, raising his babies.
His words brought her little solace. “There is no such thing as freedom, Lord Granborough. Only a lucky few ever harbor that illusion.”
“Grim words for an American…”
“Let’s just say I’ve bitten into the apple or pricked my finger on the spindle. Either way, I now know how it feels to be a wife—your wife—and it’s a bloody disappointment.”
Louisa had every right to hate him for hurting her, for deceiving her.
Giles had hoped for a marriage of civility and convenience. An angry wife would make trouble for him, when what he needed most was an ally. “Things need not be miserable between us.”
She walked away from him, her woolen skirts sweeping against the deck boards, angry footsteps echoing against the steel walls of the ship. She headed toward the door, leaving him to jog after her.
If she returned inside, they’d never finish this conversation.
“Louisa!” He took her arm in his, drawing her against him. “Things needn’t be miserable. We’ve time yet to find our way.”
His wife wrenched free of him. “I can make my own way.”
“Well, I can’t.” She turned to listen as he confessed, “The sad fact is, I need you. I need your money. I need it now more than I did yesterday. Do you understand? There are circumstances which have arisen…” He huffed. Would he ever survive the shame? “My back is against the wall, Louisa, and there is no one left to help me. No one else to turn to. Believe me, you’re all I have.”
His honest admission caught her attention, and she asked, “What are you proposing?”
“That we be friendly about this. We may as well make the best of it.”
“Ihavebeen making the best of it! I’ve dealt with your sour face, and your surly attitude, and your half-hearted seduction of me. I spent the first day of my married life sobbing in the bathtub because of your insensitivity, and the first thing you ask when you see me is whether I want to jump!”
