Chapter Ten
Michaelenduredtheremaininghour of dinner, hating every moment of it.He watched the other guests to determine which forks to use, how much of the food to eat, and whether or not he was supposed to drink the contents of a bowl or wash his hands in it.
What bothered him most was the sheer waste.The ladies picked delicately at their plates, tasting a bite of fish or a spoonful of soup before the course was taken away.It was as if eating were out of fashion.
The men adjourned with brandy and cigars, the ladies retreating to their own saloon after the dinner was concluded.Michael took his moment to escape, though the Graf had ordered him to return for the parlor games.
He had no intention of letting the Lohenberg ambassador dictate what he would or would not do.He wasn’t a trained animal to be led about on a leash.
With each moment, his resentment rose.The eyes of everyone at dinner had bored into him, and when Lady Brentford had mentioned his resemblance to the king, no doubt they thought he was a bastard son.Michael hated being the center of attention, much less the subject of gossiping tongues.
Outside, the sky was black, the white sails taut with wind while the paddle wheel churned through the water.The promenade deck was partially shielded from the winds, but the rocking of the ship sent several guests falling over.Raucous laughter accompanied one poor woman’s misfortune as her skirts went flying.
Michael gripped one of the ropes leading to the foresail.Though the sea had turned rough, his mind was in greater turmoil.He didn’t want to believe that his childhood had been a lie, that his parents were not whom they seemed to be.Surely the strange, fleeting memories that caught him from time to time were nothing but dreams.They had to be.
He caught a glimpse of Mrs.Turner strolling around the deck, and he took a step toward her.It wasn’t good for her to be alone.But before he could reach the matron’s side, Lady Hannah appeared in front of him, shadowed by her maid.She wore no outer wrap, only her sage-green gown.In the frigid air, she rubbed her arms for warmth.
“Lieutenant Thorpe,” she said quietly, “I want to know what’s going on.”
“About what?”He feigned ignorance, though he could already guess.
“Your resemblance to the King of Lohenberg.I saw the way the Graf was watching you.”
Of course she had.Lady Hannah was astute in her observations.“It’s nothing.Merely a coincidence.”
She stepped in front of him, preventing him from going any farther.“He thinks it’s true, doesn’t he?The Graf believes you’re connected to the royal house of Lohenberg.”
“It doesn’t matter what he thinks.I’ve never set foot in the country.”He strode past her, but Hannah dogged his footsteps.
“You said it was cold there in the winter.”
He didn’t know why he’d said such a thing, but she wasn’t about to let it go.“As I said, I’ve never been to the country before.”
“Are you lying to me?Or to yourself?”She touched his arm lightly.The slight gesture probably meant nothing to her, but he found that he rather liked having her hands on him.
But he tried again to be dismissive.“I’m a soldier, nothing more.”
“Are you certain?”
No, he wasn’t certain of anything.Nothing except the way she made him feel.Michael inhaled the light citrus scent she wore.Lemon and jasmine mingled together, seductive and sweet.
“Go back to your cabin, Hannah,” he ordered.It was all he could do not to kiss her again.She didn’t seem to understand the effect she had on him.
“The evening isn’t over yet,” she said.“The entertainment will begin shortly.And whether or not you’re too afraid to join us, I intend to participate.”
“Hoping to find a husband, are you?”
She shot him a dark look.“Whether I am or not doesn’t matter to you at all, does it?”
“It matters.”His palm cupped her cheek, his gloved hand sliding against her skin.Ripples of desire erupted all over Hannah’s skin.She wanted him to kiss her, as he had before.He tempted her in all the wrong ways.Or perhaps, all the right ways.
It took all of her willpower to break free of him.“Run away, if you’re too afraid,” she taunted.“Or join us.The choice is yours.”
Hannah returned to the gathering, suspecting he would stay away.She had played a few parlor games during boarding school.Blind Man’s Buff and charades were quite popular.But as these games involved men and women, she supposed they must be rather different.
A group of twenty gentlemen and women met in the Grand Saloon.The ship’s waiters had arranged several chairs in a circle, and a small table stood at the front.The guests began rummaging through their belongings, and she realized they would be playing Forfeit.
Each player would surrender a personal item to be auctioned.In order to get it back, he or she had to perform a forfeit, such as singing or dancing.Viscount Brentford had claimed the role of auctioneer, and from his amused expression, it seemed he was looking forward to the position of power.
