Some private time alone with her daughter was Evelyn Hillary’s real motive when she’d told Jeremy almost two weeks ago to go home to await the day of his nuptials. He shouldn’t begrudge her that, she’d said, and he didn’t really. Mother and daughter had been separated for many years, after all, Danny having grown up in the London slums, unaware of who she was or that she still had one parent alive when she’d thought them both dead. And they’d only just been reunited.
Knowing that made the separation no easier to bear for Jeremy. He’d only just realized that what he felt for Danny was real, and Malorys didn’t succumb to love easily. They were a family that had produced some of London’s most notorious rakes, Jeremy included, and not one of them had ever treated that emotion lightly once they’d experienced it.
Drew Anderson was the only one in the drawing room, where the men had gathered after dinner, who didn’t try to conceal his amusement over Percy’s remarks. Out of all the Malorys he probably liked Jeremy the best, since they had so much in common, or at least they did before Jeremy decided to give up his bachelorhood. Jeremy was also his nephew by marriage, or step-nephew, but family nonetheless.
What was even more amusing was that Jeremy, known to have such a high tolerance for alcohol that he’d never experienced a state of real inebriation, even when drinking everyone else under the table, looked to be on his way to changing that amazing record tonight. He’d arrived with a bottle of brandy in hand, had gone through another during dinner, and was fast making his way through a third. It was incredible that he wasn’t passed out on the floor and that his words weren’t slurred, but there was a telltale glaze in his eyes that warned he was foxed, as the saying went here, for the first time in his life.
His father, James, hadn’t noticed yet. His uncle Anthony was too busy trying not to laugh to notice. Percy only noticed things he shouldn’t, so he wouldn’t be remarking on it. But Drew, being an Anderson in the enemy’s camp, as it were, had no trouble spotting Jeremy’s misery and what he was attempting to do about it.
Sorrows drowned in drink. It was too funny. But Drew could almost sympathize. The bride was incredibly beautiful, and he’d considered pursuing her himself when he’d thought she was just Jeremy’s upstairs maid. But Jeremy had already staked a claim and had made that clear. And no woman was worth fighting over in Drew’s opinion. If he couldn’t have one, another would do. He wasn’t particular, and wasn’t about to get caught in an emotion that was foreign to him.
In every harbor he sailed into, there was a woman waiting to greet him with open arms. It wasn’t that he’d made a deliberate effort to have a “sweetheart” in every port, as his sister was fond of putting it. He was just a man who loved women, all women, and those he favored tended to hope he’d make their port his permanent one. Not that he ever gave them any reason to think he’d ever settle down. He told them no lies, made them no promises, and when he was at sea didn’t require they be any more faithful than he’d ever be.
Georgina and Anthony’s wife entered the drawing room before Jeremy got around to blasting his friend. Now, there was another fine-looking woman, Rosalyn Malory, Drew thought. He had heard how Anthony had won the lady. She’d been in need of a husband to protect her from an unscrupulous cousin who was trying to steal her fortune. Anthony had volunteered, to the amazement of his family. He was another rake they’d thought would never marry.
Drew could say one thing for the Malory men: they certainly had good taste in women. And James Malory had made the best catch of all, in his opinion, because James had managed to get the Andersons’ only sister to fall in love with him. He didn’t deserve her, of course. None of her brothers thought he did. But it couldn’t be denied that he made her happy.
Drew wasn’t looking forward to being confined on a ship with his formidable brother-in-law, but he was certainly delighted that he’d be spending more time with his sister and niece, since he didn’t get to London that often. Too bad James couldn’t be left behind. He ought to suggest it. He could take care of James’s family well enough, since they were his family, too. And he was sure James didn’t really want to go, when he had such bad memories of the last time he’d been in Bridgeport.
Wouldn’t hurt to suggest it, Drew thought. It would be another week before they sailed, enough time for James to at least consider staying home. There was time enough for Drew to watch Jeremy tie the knot, too, and lament that another confirmed bachelor was leaving the ranks. If he ever got that stupid, he hoped someone would shoot him first.
Chapter 6
DREW WAS IN A HURRY.He had just been told that his brother Boyd’s ship,The Oceanus,was anchored in the harbor waiting for dockage. It would be days before it was given a berth because the line of incoming ships was long. But that didn’t mean Boyd hadn’t rowed ashore already, and if not, Drew would find a dinghy himself to pay Boyd a visit.
He hadn’t known Boyd was scheduled to stop in England, but his timing couldn’t have been better. The family had just returned to London yesterday from Jeremy’s wedding and would be sailing to Connecticut in less than a week. Drew had come down to the docks today to let his first mate know they would be sailing sooner than planned.
He’d actually expected to findThe Oceanusin Bridgeport, since it usually transported sugar and tobacco from the West Indies to the northeastern states. He’d been looking forward to a reunion with his youngest brother. That was his main reason for sailing to their home port himself.
If Boyd had come to England merely to visit with Georgina, then he might like to sail home with Drew this trip. Now, that was a pleasant thought, especially since their brother-in-law, James, hadn’t taken the hint and was still determined to sail with his wife and daughter. Drew could use some reinforcements with that particular Malory aboard.
Georgina and Boyd were the only two Andersons who didn’t captain their own ships. She’d never been expected to and would probably have had quite a fight on her hands with all five of her brothers if she’d ever suggested it. Boyd simply didn’t want to. He loved to sail, he just had no desire to take command.
They’d always thought it was nervousness and he just needed time to outgrow it, and that eventually he’d become captain of his shipThe Oceanuswhen he was ready. But he’d finally admitted he saw no need to ever take that step, that he preferred to simply enjoy the voyages without the responsibility of being in charge, and since he paid his captains from his own pocket, his brothers had no reason to complain. Since Boyd was not needed forThe Oceanusto set sail again, he might be agreeable to traveling with him and Georgina and her family onThe Triton.
Hurrying along the crowded wharf to the Skylark Office, where he expected to find Boyd if he’d already come ashore, Drew didn’t pay much attention to the traffic, other than to avoid it. But it was hard to miss the woman about to fall right in his path.
It was a mere reflex to grip her arm to keep her from falling. He wasn’t really paying attention to her because his eyes were on the two fellows walking behind her who charged forward just as Drew set her back on her feet.
“Let go,” she growled at him, and he did.
Drew wasn’t sure if the two men were really with her, because now that she was standing steadily on her own two feet, they hung back behind her, trying to appear as if they weren’t keeping an eye on her. Odd. Drew glanced back at the woman to see why she’d been unappreciative of his help, and forgot about her escort entirely.
The palest blue eyes he’d ever seen surrounded by black lashes were glaring at him. They were eyes so startlingly beautiful that it took him a moment to take in the rest of the package.
Drew wasn’t often given pause. Piqued, certainly. But being rendered speechless just didn’t happen all that often to a man who’d pursued the loveliest of the lovelies across the world. This one was pretty, yes, but many could outshine her. A pert nose, black brows barely arched, probably because of her frown. But full, lush lips boldly red, though not from any paint. Because she’d been biting them would be his guess.
Her black hair was tightly contained in an artful coiffure. Her blue dress and hat were nearly as pale as her eyes. She was dressed like a lady in the height of fashion, and yet she had a rich, golden tan that the ladies of England simply wouldn’t acquire. He’d wager she’d been in a warmer climate recently.
Was that what surprised him, the deeply tanned skin that was darker than her eyes? Or those sinfully lush lips? Or perhaps it was simply because she was glaring at him when he’d helped her, for crying out loud.
“Should I have let you tumble at my feet, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You were about to fall,” he reminded her. “Or has that slipped your mind? I know I do have that effect on women, scattering their thoughts every which way,” he added with a boyish grin.
Instead of charming her out of her ire as he expected, his remark had her drawing in her breath indignantly and claiming, “You’ve bruised my arm, you lout.”
