“I do not understand why I must remain down here,” Julius repeated haughtily as he turned to face one of the ship’s stewards. “I am the Earl of Bronson, and this will never do.”
“I’m very sorry, My Lord, but I have my orders. All passengers from the other ship are to remain below decks. It’s for yer own good, ya know. Keeps ya from stagin’ a mutiny and takin’ over this ship. But come now, ‘tis only for a day or two. It’ll be a’right til we’re back in London, wontcha?” the man said, giving Julius the clear impression that he was being condescending.
Julius only nodded, and the man grinned. “Good ‘nough. At least ya got off easy, the lot of us who keep to this room hafta sleep on the deck tonight. Be glad of the bunks, and if I was ya, I wouldn’t make any complaints.”
The man left him to the misery of the small room. It was bad enough while empty of its other lodgers, but he had a suspicion that other men would soon come in to bunk with him once they were assigned a place to rest their heads.
This has been a nightmare, Julius thought angrily.Lydia has surely reached Gretna Green or wherever she intended to go, and there will be no stopping her marriage. I can only hope that Earl of Paxton is as malleable as the Viscount… or else another plan shall take root.
Julius fretted throughout the unusual journey. He had to admit that once he put aside his constant worry, the ships’ progress across the water was actually pleasant and encouraging. They moved at a good clip with the current this time, and there wasn’t a threatening cloud in sight.
By the time they reached the port in London, Julius was more determined than ever to succeed in his endeavor. That wretched brat of a niece may have made things terribly difficult, but nothing was impossible where Julius’ interests were concerned. All he needed to do now was find a way to undo what had been done—by any means, if it came to that—then convince the Viscount of the viability of this new scheme. It shouldn’t prove too hard, all things considered. Julius fairly floated above the rough boards of the gangplank as he disembarked the ship, wholly unaware of the other passenger who watched him through the window of her quarters.
Chapter 21
Matthew’s business in several small villages surrounding London took the better part of a day, all of which would lead to at least a week at the harbor offices south of the city itself to follow through with the contracts. All in all, he was glad of the diversion, anything that would keep him away from home.
“Good day, My Lord,” the clerk of one merchant’s office said, recognizing Matthew by his papers if not by sight. “I’ll call on the owner at once. Come this way.”
Matthew followed the young man into an office at the back of the shop, then sat down to wait. The man returned with a tray of tea and some scones that had most likely been fresh at breakfast no less than the day before.
“Mr. Beckett should be here presently, My Lord. I’ve sent a messenger to tell him of your arrival, and the messenger has already returned.” The young man bowed slightly and waited for a response, which Matthew was loath to give.
“Very well, thank you,” he finally stammered, unaccustomed to conducting his business in England with all its manners and societal rules.
By the time the shop owner arrived, the tea was cold and Matthew was tired. Still, he put on a good front and smiled for the older man’s benefit.
“Ah, Lord Paxton, we meet at last!” the man said, shaking Matthew’s hand warmly. “I had feared I would go to my grave having only corresponded with you by letter. Have you moved your offices to London, then?”
“Oh no,” Matthew assured him. “I am only in town for a brief time.”
“Yes, to visit with your family, no doubt,” Mr. Beckett said jovially, then his face instantly fell. “My Lord, I am so sorry. I forgot about your father passing so recently, how clumsy of me to speak of family at this time.”
“It’s quite all right, Mr. Beckett. I was not aware he had died until long after the fact,” Matthew said, aware that he was perhaps divulging too much about the state of his awkward family.
“Oh? How very unusual. I would have thought you would be informed when he took ill. But no matter, you’re here now and that’s what matters,” the owner said kindly. “I’m sure it is a great relief to your mother.”
“Oddly, I don’t know that she agrees with you,” Matthew said. “She did not see fit to inform me of my father, so I have a surprise of my own in that I am married.”
“Really?” Mr. Beckett asked, frowning. “So then it is true what I’ve heard? About Miss Lydia Reed?”
Matthew stiffened, overcome by a defensive feeling. “What is it that you’ve heard, exactly?”
Mr. Beckett, sensing his great misstep, smiled broadly and shook his head. “Oh, nothing of any importance, I assure you! Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose. Tell me, where is your lovely wife?”
“I’ve sent her on ahead of me so that I might meet with some of the merchants who rely on my shipping efforts to keep their little shops open and stocked with merchandise,” Matthew said darkly, hinting at the precariousness of a relationship should Mr. Beckett experience any more untoward missteps. “It would be a terrible thing if some of those merchants experienced unusual delays in their orders, far more terrible than any gossip about my wife.”
Mr. Beckett went pale. He stammered for a few seconds as he appeared to struggle for a proper answer. Finally, he nodded.
“I understand your meaning quite clearly, My Lord,” the shop owner said in a low voice. “I am heartily sorry for any insult I might have inadvertently caused.”
“Mr. Beckett, do rest assured that you did not cause the insult,” Matthew said, sounding somewhat more generous than before. “But by helping the wildfire to spread, you are certainly not winning any favors from me. I trust that you will do your utmost to help put an end to these immodest discussions of my wife.”
“Absolutely, My Lord,” Mr. Beckett said, stammering fearfully as he spoke. “It will be my particular honor to ensure that anyone I hear discussing the matter is aware that there is no truth to any rumors that may have gotten loose.”
Still attempting to appear stoic and aloof, Matthew inwardly heaved a great sigh of relief. Perhaps this could be the avenue to repairing Lydia’s reputation? First, their marriage had redeemed her in a small way, but with enough influence among Matthew’s business associates, he could possibly help her rise in the ton’s esteem.
She deserves at least that much, and so much more, Matthew thought, attempting to look pleasant now that the topic had moved on to the merchant trade.
