In the dining saloon, the Meyers held the honor of hosting Captain Haines at their table. Giles led Louisa into the space for the last time, committing the gilded ivory paneling and red velvet upholstery to memory. They weaved a familiar path between the long, white-cloth-laden tables, smiling and greeting those fellow passengers who’d enlivened their honeymoon journey.
Louisa stopped and spoke to the Misses Broome, who had been quite convinced that Lord and Lady Granborough’s brilliant union was a secret romance.
“He is smitten!” announced one of the sisters, tittering behind her champagne glass. “I knew it from the start!”
Giles didn’t bother to deny it, though in the early days of their voyage, he’d been more appalled by Louisa’s conduct than infatuated with her. “You must call on us,” he said, “before you leave England again. I’d be delighted to show you ‘round the parklands, gardens, and ruins of Granborough.”
The invitation was a great honor for the sisters, and he would be gratified to host Louisa’s newfound friends. He extended an equal courtesy to Sir Julius and Lady Sitwell, who promised to look the young couple up when Lord and Lady Granborough were next in London.
Further down the table sat Philip Sheridan Perry, who would be happy to advise the newlyweds on all manner of electric appliances for their domestic convenience. “You know, there is a fellow in Germany,” said Mr. Perry, conspiratorially, “Herr Flocken who claims to have invented what he calls the‘Eleckrtowagen’—a sort of horseless carriage powered by an electric motor. Imagine the freedom! The opportunities!” His eyes were fairly glazed with rapture. “If a man could only get in at the start…”
Giles had resigned himself to pedaling a bicycle at Louisa’s side, and doubtless lagging behind her blistering pace, but he could not imagine joining her on some mad adventure atop a glorified buggy. He simply didn’t see the appeal of such an undignified conveyance, yet he knew his wife would always have her finger on the pulse of invention, forever looking for ways to modernize and vitalize their lives.
He would never grow bored by her side.
Also present at the Captain’s dinner were Mr. Ferron and his daughter, Minnie. The young girl raved over Louisa’s glittering emerald parure and shimmering green frock. Miss Ferron had taken their advice and told her father of her fears, and was happy to report that she and her Daddy would be touring the galleries of Paris and shopping along theRue de la Paix,but not committing themselves to any educational plans beyond that. There would be plenty of time to ‘finish’ and become a grand hostess, but precious few girlhood days left to spend with her doting father.
“Let’s go over to Paris,” Giles said to Louisa, as they moved through the gathered group, “and visit my mother in the spring. There is so much I want to show you along theBois de Boulogne,and I know you can hold your own against the grasping conniver who birthed me.”
She grinned at him in the dazzling glow of the chandeliers overhead. “Only if you promise to host Mamma and Pappa every Christmas, and show them what a model son-in-law you’ve become.”
He threw his head back and laughed, heedless of the six hundred pairs of eyes swiveling in his direction. “It seemed we’re both up for the task of tackling our new families.”
At last, Lord and Lady Granborough reached their seats at the head of the dining table, where Captain Haines and the Meyers held court. Their arrival was greeted with handshakes and hugs, and rapidly-spoken French as Madame and Monsieur de Roubernon rose to welcome them.
Louisa was liked and respected by their fellow travelers, and as she took a champagne glass from her hosts, she looked very much the marchioness.
Giles settled into his seat beside Madame de Roubernon, who looked elegantly ostentatious in her bangled bracelets and elaborate coiffure. Although he could never admit it, he was grateful that she had gifted Louisa the naughty French novel, for she had given a lonely young bride something far more valuable—confidence in herself and her sensuality.
“I am obliged to you,” he said, drinking from his water glass, “for recognizing what I was too blind to see.”
Louisa deserved pleasure. She deserved passion, devotion, and her due regard as the woman he’d chosen to share in his name, his bed, and his life.
He didn’t want to end up like his father, who’d been drunk, faithless, and miserable for as long as he could remember. This transatlantic sailing had been Giles’ one chance at redemption, a rare opportunity to begin his life anew. He would be a fool not to take it. He would be a fool to have a lady like Louisa and lose her.
Thanks toher,he no longer feared Herbert breathing down his throat. He’d been freed of the shackles of debt, and could finally sever the ties that bound him to Lady Venia, once and for all.
He found Louisa’s hand beneath the tablecloth, and laced his fingers with hers nestled in the folds of her silken skirts. As he watched her drink, dine, and dazzle their dinner companions over courses of caviar, Dover sole, andCampaniapudding in a decadent rum sauce, Giles knew there was nowhere he’d rather be than by her side.
At last, he had fallen in love with the woman he’d married.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
There was singing and dancing after the meal, but Louisa slipped from the assembly room unnoticed—or so she imagined. She had taken turns with all of their friends and had exchanged addresses with many of them, promising to keep up correspondence and pay calls in the future.
Her life as Lady Granborough would be very busy, she realized, for there would always be something to do, someone to see. Responsibilities and requirements beyond pleasing herself.
She looked forward to it after years in New York being just another heiress floundering a sea of moneyed beauties, another face in a crowded ballroom, or making up a yachting party at Newport. She had wanted to escape Knickerbocker society, where the Thurston Reids would never ascend to Mrs. Astor’s Four Hundred, though Louisa never fathomed what awaited her on the other side of the Atlantic.
She would be mistress of the Granborough estate, a great lady, and a grand hostess. A wife, and someday, a mother. Louisa hadn’t considered herself to be a child in those carefree days before her marriage, yet she suddenly felt grown up, for somewhere—between leaving New York and arriving in Liverpool—she had changed. She viewed the world differently.
Louisa stepped through the exterior door and emerged onto the promenade deck. Wind whipped at her heavy green skirts. She hadn’t brought a coat or even a rug, and she shivered in the crisp night air. Her breath puffed condensation as she walked toward the railings and looked out upon the churning sea.
A million stars glimmered overhead, and she swore she could see for miles.Campaniawas only a tiny, traveling speck in the universe that seemed to stretch on and on forever. Louisa hugged herself, feeling the weight of the Granborough emeralds pressing on her heart, hanging heavily in her ears and cuffing her wrists.
She was girded to do battle. A knight’s armor couldn’t have protected her better. She would be a formidable woman, capable of managing servants, tenants, and houseguests in the countryside. She would engage tradesmen and artisans to restore Granborough, for Louisa intended to do more than write checks.
Footsteps on the deck drew her attention. She pivoted to watch her husband approach, looking so handsome, gentlemanly, and refined. No one would suspect that earlier this afternoon, he’d been gripped with panic and paralyzed with fear over two Pinkertons—or the rough English equivalent.
