Prologue
Rowan
The English Channel, December 1810
Ifaced certain death, so agreeing to marry a woman I despised in a harmless bet could hardly be held against me. The arm of the Atlantic Ocean was royally throttling our small packet ship, and I daresay my six comrades and I were incapable of thinking sensibly under the sound beating. None of us cared to be leg shackled, yet a marriage wager seemed to be the only form of distraction any of us could imagine.
The boat pitched, and I clung to my berth to keep from rolling off. Leonard was lying in the short bunk opposite me, scowling at the wall, and my leg just stopped him from going over the edge. It was my turn to commit to the bet, and I planned to do it before we capsized. “If I live, I swear I’ll do my duty by Miss Delafield.” I had to yell the words to be heard over the roar of the storm.
“You’ll never marry her,” Leonard growled, his mood especially foul.
“She hates you, or did you hit your head too hard to remember?” Thomas—the man I had to thank for this asinine bet—hollered back with a laugh from the berth opposite mine. His dark hair was matted in sweat, with only a straw-filled pillow between him and Ambrose—who we affectionately called Rosie. Rosie, always the planner, looked ill, and it was hard to say if his shiver was from the icy December temperaturesor the talk of marriage. Standing beside the bunk, Andrew—always responsible—desperately tried to keep the lantern swinging from the deck head from going out. There were only three beds in our cramped private cabin, but once the storm hit fever pitch, we somehow squeezed all seven of us into the crowded room.
If we were going to die, we would die together.
Such a loyal and well-crafted sentiment brought Shakespeare to mind. What would he say to this madcap plan of ours? I thought ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 1, Scene 1,“The course of true love never did run smooth.”
“The storm has settled my mind on the subject, gentlemen. I will marry her.” I gave a half-smile, half-grimace. Now that I had finally said the words out loud, I knew I couldn’t take them back. I would wed Miss Delafield. It was Mother’s dearest wish, and if I lived, I would see it realized. Times like this made a man see what really mattered in life, and I didn’t want to die before I started a family.
The ship heaved once more. My body was thrown back, deeper into my berth, my shoulder slapping the wood. The pain only strengthened my decision. It had taken me to the brink of death to acknowledge what mattered most to me, and honoring the memory of my mother was my only grounded thought on this storm-tossed ship. Miss Delafield and I had been promised since her infancy, and though I had fought it with all my might, it was time to humble myself.
“But can you beat the rest of us to the altar?” Tristan said, nudging his twin brother Charles as the ship righted. He was the charmer and Charles the adventurer of the group.
Charles nodded and laughed, although not even he could hide the stress from his voice. They sat on two stools nailed to the floor against the wall, and they had a valid point. Regardless, I had no intention ofplaying the loser and paying £100 to each of the others. While my verbal pledge had committed me, how soon could I bring myself to marry? We were nearing the end of our tour of the continent, hardly free from the leading strings of university life. Was there any rush for any of us?
“Time will tell,” I muttered. The ocean’s thunder drowned out my words as its furious fist slammed into us once more.
If we lived through this insanity, I would require more than just time. I’d need an abundance of courage to go with it. For I knew a different sort of fear—one with long legs and an infuriating tongue.
Miss Delafield was a tempest all on her own.
Chapter 1
Rowan
Six years later, June 1816, Surrey, England
“Iknow this might come as a great shock to you, Miss Delafield, but I do indeed wish to marry you.” My carriage bounced on the rough country road destroyed by the recent storms, but it was not enough to knock sense into me. I dearly wished I could call the whole ludicrous idea of marriage off. Regardless, I could not retreat now. A promise made under extreme duress was still a promise—even if I’d taken my precious time in fulfilling it.
Setting my hand against the black satin-lined carriage wall to steady myself, I began again. “I wrote ahead to your parents of my plans, hoping that a fortnight’s notice would be enough for you to adjust to the idea.” Although, if roughly twelve years since our last meeting had not been long enough, another fortnight would not matter. “Before you answer, Miss Delafield, please remember that this is our familial duty. Our parents’ hopes are tied to this union, and it would be a grave disappointment to them should we not act upon it.”
I paused, wondering if I should mention my personal reasons for marrying. The greatest being the bet I had made with my friends, and the nagging collective price of six hundred pounds if I failed. I’d made the bet because I wanted to honor my mother’s wishes and start a family, but thelonger I had been off the boat, the more those reasons had grown hazy. It had taken six years and letters from four different besotted friends to motivate me to propose marriage. With only three remaining bachelors, the race was on.
I couldn’t afford to dawdle and still have the funds to pay off my friends. My man of business had obtained a rare copy of Shakespeare’s First Folio. With thirty-six of his plays, it might as well be the bible of Shakespeare. The expense had nearly exhausted my allowance. If he succeeded in chasing down the recent rumor I had heard, I would soon have the Third Folio too, which was quite scarce thanks to the Great Fire of London destroying many of its valuable copies. Once I had the Third Folio, my collection of all four Folios would be complete. A dream come true.
I stared at the empty seat across from me, feeling a bit foolish as I tried to imagine Miss Delafield’s response to my practiced speech. Why did the red velvet upholstery on the bench look as if I had murdered the lady’s hopes and dreams to marry for love? The stain of blood would surely mar my conscience for all eternity, even if I was not one to take stock in love matches. The thought made me shiver with unease.
“Come now, Miss Delafield,” I pleaded with the empty carriage seat. “I am a much nicer person than when we saw each other last. It’s been, what?” I paused to count on my fingers just to be certain. “Yes, twelve blessed years of peace since our last not-so-pleasant encounter. I assure you that when we are wed, we can both reside in opposite wings of the house and only see each other at holiday parties.”
Parties? I hesitated, my breathing quickening and my shoulders rising.
Anyone like Miss Delafield who did not respect books and the sacred written word should not be permitted in polite Society. The selfish thought was greeted with another hard bounce in my seat that mademe reach for my tailbone. No bruise would make me feel repentant. Not where Miss Delafield, the spindly girl with legs long enough to trip over and more freckles than sense, was concerned. I had enough memories of her to be quite certain that an amicable marriage would only be accomplished with a great deal of tolerance. I would have to start praying for patience the minute the banns were read.
The carriage struck a deep rut in the road, and this time, there was more than my tailbone at stake. The carriage lurched to the left. Time suspended as my body momentarily levitated. The next moment was akin to a nightmare. The carriage crashed against its side, and I barely let out a yelp before my body followed, slapping hard against the conveyance wall. Everything went still—the only sound in my ringing ears a faint whine of a horse.
With a grimace, I pushed myself to a sitting position in the downed carriage. My left arm had taken the brunt of the crash. I slowly rotated it, assessing the limb. It hurt, but nothing seemed broken. My head pounded, and I gingerly dug beneath my hair to feel a small goose egg forming. The damage was minor, considering. There was nothing of lasting consequence to prevent me from marrying. A small whimper escaped my lips.
“Sir!” my valet called, thumping on the carriage. “Sir, are you alive?”
