Chapter Eleven
Three hours later, when Erroll returned with Somerset, he wasn’t surprised at the mountain of packages loaded atop their coach. He was, however, curious about the pensive direction Miss Eve Crenshaw’s mood seemed to have taken.
“I see you are wearing new dresses,” he commented. The younger sister wore a pretty yellow muslin and the elder a white muslin that contrasted the soft, honey brown curls of her hair.
“Why buy new clothes if we don’t wear them?” Grace Crenshaw said.
“I quite agree.” He particularly liked the way the long, Indian muslin pelisse molded to the elder sister’s breasts. “Shall we walk?” he asked. “There is a millinery shop not far from here I thought you might like. We aren’t in the heart of town, so it should be a quiet walk.”
“How wonderful,” Grace Crenshaw cried. “Do not forget, my lord, you promised we would stop at the bakery on the way back to the ship.”
“Thank you for reminding me. We cannot forget that. Oscar,” Erroll called, “we plan to walk to our next destination.”
Oscar nodded and climbed up beside the driver of the carriage.
Erroll surveyed his group. “Shall we proceed?”
Miss Eve Crenshaw stepped forward with the obvious intent to partner with Somerset, but Somerset winged an arm at the younger sister who stood between them.
“May I?” he asked.
She demurred with calculated perfection, but Erroll caught the drop of her lashes before he turned to the elder sister. “Seems you’re stuck with me.”
“How fortunate for me,” she said.
He offered his arm. She accepted and they followed the other two along the narrow walkway.
“I see you did a bit of shopping yourself.”
Erroll’s mind snapped to attention. Had her glance indicated more than the notice of his change of attire? “Buckskin breeches are more suited to our current adventure,” he said. “Do you not agree?”
“I couldn’t say, my lord.”
Her voice had been casual, but Erroll noted with delight a hint of color rising in her cheeks. So the form fitting breeches were to her liking. Would it be to her liking if he pulled her into the warmth of his greatcoat and wrapped his arms around her?
They walked a moment with the carriage following behind when Eve Crenshaw slowed, her gaze fixed on a patch of snowdrops that had sprung up wild in the grass beside the sidewalk.
When Grace and her escort were several paces ahead of them, she said, “What will you do if Lord Halifax dies?”
“No need to worry yourself over that.”
“You will leave the Continent,” she persisted.
“Perhaps.”
“I don’t think our father will allow either of us to marry a man who is wanted for murder.”
“I should say not,” Erroll said.
“That is why you didn’t insist that one of us marry you in Gretna.”
It wasn’t a question. “That was one reason,” he replied.
“Your wish not to marry is another.”
This was not a question either. “Perhaps I simply never found someone I wanted to marry.”
She gave her head a frustrated shake. “That is a very convenient answer.”
“That does not make it untrue.” Or true for that matter, he reflected with amusement.
She studied him for a moment, then said, “Our father won’t allow you to abandon his daughter in Scotland while you return to London and carry on as you please.”
His daughter? So the lady was softening her tactic in steering him toward her sister—and letting him know her father would continue to take an interest in his daughter’s welfare.
“In all fairness, I was angry when I said that.”
Erroll thought he heard a low growl from the coach, which had slowed and was trailing suspiciously close to them. He should have known that ridiculous threat would come back to haunt him. The last thing he needed was the brute leaping from the coach to teach him a lesson in how a gentleman paid his addresses to a lady.
“I was, after all, innocent of your sister’s accusations,” Erroll said. “Not to mention, I had just endured a very long lecture from my father and a five hour race to catch my accuser. I was not about to passively walk the plank.”
Her gaze dropped and her shoulders shook slightly. He started to ask what was wrong, but his attention fixed on the curved flesh above her bodice. Lust made a stab at his groin with a dark intent that would certainly have Oscar upon him instantly. Then Erroll realized she was laughing.
“I don’t blame you for being testy,” she said through barely muffled laughter.
Erroll wondered whether she was laughing at the idea of him racing to catch his accuser or him walking the plank. “Then I am not quite the cad you thought I was?”
“You aren’t guilty of compromising Grace. But you are still a rakehell, and I think you meant it when you said you would go on with your pleasures as you always have.”
“Perhaps not exactly as I always have.” By God, if the brute overheard that, Erroll might have to remain awake, armed and vigilant the duration of the trip.
Miss Crenshaw lifted her head and studied his face. “I don’t want Grace to be hurt. She is without question the better choice as your wife. She has been groomed for marriage her entire life.”
Erroll grimaced. “You make her sound like a prize sow.” And him the prize hog.
Miss Crenshaw’s brows shot up. “If you care for your sanity, do not allow Grace to hear you mention prize sows and her name in the same sentence.”
That was the best advice anyone had given him in some time.
“I’m sorry you had to fight the duel with Lord Halifax,” she said. “If you have to leave because of that it would be terrible.”
Erroll clasped the hand she had around his arm and gave a squeeze. “The duel wasn’t your fault. Halifax was angry because I interfered with his dalliance.”
Her gaze cut to the hand he’d placed atop hers, then she looked straight ahead. “Had we not surprised them, it’s likely things would have gone badly for Lady Gallagher,” she said.
Erroll allowed his hand to drop from hers. “Then neither of us is to blame. Neville is a bastard. It is a wonder someone didn’t shoot him long ago.”
“In any case, thank you.”
Erroll liked the way the words sounded coming from her. “You are welcome.”
“We cannot stay long in Scotland,” she said. “My father must be frantic with worry.”
“Some of his fears are most certainly allayed by now,” Erroll said. “I sent word before we left Maryport.”
She looked sharply at him. “Oh dear. That was right, of course, but you should have told us. I have been worrying.”
“Forgive me. You are correct. It has been a hectic few days.”
They reached the corner and turned. The coach halted for another carriage crossing the intersection before following. Somerset and Grace Crenshaw weren’t in sight and Erroll supposed they had reached the shop and gone inside.
“How long until we reach your home?” Miss Crenshaw asked.
“Two days, if we’re lucky. Three or more, if the weather conspires against us.”
“I advise buying lots of sweets at the bake shop,” she said.
“Have you a sweet tooth?”
“I do, in fact, but this is for Grace. The food aboard ship is not fit for civilized people. She will arrive in Scotland in a much better frame of mind if she isn’t forced to subsist on salted meat and hard biscuits the duration of the voyage. Oh dear, I am not showing her to her best light, am I? To be fair, you really cannot expect her to do well when thrust into an unplanned voyage on a cargo ship.”
“Of course not,” Erroll agreed.
“Once we reach Mull, you will see that she can be very sweet,” Eve went on. “Not to mention, she is an exceptionally beautiful woman. You cannot deny that is pleasant.”
He had to agree, and willed himself not to glance at her bodice to confirm that truth. He remembered too well the pleasure of her erect nipple in his mouth.
“There is still the one problem,” he said, aside from the lust that kept him awake nights. They reached the shop and he stopped. Miss Crenshaw looked inquiringly up at him. “I did say I would not marry a woman who lies. It is unnerving to wonder what her next lie will be.”
She gave him a shrewd look. “Everyone lies, you included.”
“What do you lie about, Miss Crenshaw?”
Her mouth parted in surprise, then she pulled her hand from his arm and stepped toward the door. “As we will not be marrying, that is none of your concern.”
*****
Eve stared down at the dark mass in the middle of the dinner plate Oscar set on the table before her.
“What is it?” Grace asked.
“I don’t know.” Using her fork, Eve lifted the corner of the charred heap. She shifted her attention to Oscar, who stood waiting. “What is this?”
“Steak, Miss.”
“What happened to the salted beef we ate yesterday?” As hard as it was to believe, it looked better than this.
“His lordship had this cooked especially for you,” Oscar replied.
“He hates us,” Grace said.
Eve wondered if Grace was right. “That is cruel and unusual punishment.”
“He had supplies brought aboard, but better food doesn’t mean much when the cook is no good,” Oscar said.
Grace pushed the plate away. “I will have one of the sweet goods we brought aboard.”
“Can we expect more of the same tomorrow?” Eve asked.
“I think so,” Oscar said.
Eve cast another glance at the meat and shuddered. “Call for his lordship.”
Oscar looked uncertain. “Miss, he is busy and—”
“Good God, Oscar, you have known the man three days and take his side against me on every occasion. I will not forgive you for this.”
“Probably not, Miss,” he said. “But it is better you’re alive to stay mad at me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You could have escorted Grace and I from Gretna Green back to Manchester. That would have been a far safer course of action than this one.”
“I couldn’t let your sister go with his lordship alone.”
Eve gave an impatient shake of her head. “We would have all returned home to Manchester.”
“Your sister wasn’t going to go with us,” he replied.
“He is right,” Grace said. “My only choice was to accompany Lord Rushton. This ensures we will marry.”
Eve felt a headache looming. “Oscar, fetch his lordship before I take this piece of coal on my plate and stuff it down your throat.”
Oscar snorted, then left.
When the door closed behind him, Eve said to her sister, “So you told Oscar you wouldn’t return to Manchester? Very clever.”
“You don’t give him enough credit. He saw what you refuse to admit.”
Eve suddenly wondered if she was doing Lord Rushton an injustice. Grace wasn’t in the habit of lying, but the lie that had gotten them into this mess was fueled by a nearly fanatical desire to become the Marchioness of Rushton. Her willingness to do almost anything to attain her goal was no better than being the liar Lord Rushton thought her to be.
“So you will spin me in your web, consequences be damned?” Eve demanded.
Grace gave her a critical look. “You knew the risks when you had Oscar kidnap Lord Rushton, as did I when I agreed to the scheme. You must accept the consequences and not expect me to change my course of action.”
Eve stared. “Your course of action? Grace, we’re in a serious muddle.”
“Indeed we are, which is why the earl will have to take action.”
“He has already taken action. What if he has to flee the Continent?”
“That would be a dire turn of events,” Grace admitted.
“You might well be ruined,” Eve said.
“No, though you would be.”
“I am ruined already.”
Grace smoothed back a lock of hair that had escaped its pins. “If you marry Lord Somerset, you will avoid ruination.”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t wish myself off on him, particularly after these past few days.” But that wasn’t going to stop her from accepting his marriage proposal the first chance she got.
“What are you talking about?” Grace said. “Lord Somerset would be fortunate to have you.”
Eve was startled by her sister’s compliment. “I am not so sure he would agree,” she said slowly.
“That would make him a fool. But I don’t think Lord Somerset is a fool. He has offered for your hand three times. He obviously has good taste.”
Eve snorted. “Well, good taste and good sense are two different things.”
*****
Erroll halted in front of the ladies’ cabin, where Oscar stood sentry. “Should I ask why they sent for me?” he asked the brute.
“They will tell you,” Oscar replied.
“You are no help,” Erroll said.
“No.”
“Back to being a man of few words, eh?” Erroll asked.
“This is your ride, m’lord.”
“I was dragged into it, if you recall.”
“You did your part.”
“As I am sure they will remind me.” Erroll knocked on the door and Miss Eve Crenshaw bade him enter. He entered and closed the door behind him.
“How good of you to come, my lord,” she said.
“Is something wrong? Oscar sent word that you needed to see me right away.”
“We understand you were kind enough to purchase provisions for the remainder of the trip.” She tilted her dinner plate so that he could see its contents.
Erroll frowned. “Good God, what is that?”
“Steak,” she said.
“Steak—not the steak I brought aboard?”
“According to Oscar, yes.”
“What the devil did the cook do to it?”
“I believe he slaughtered the cow a second time,” she said.
And with a vengeance. “Most ship’s cooks are not known for their culinary skills, but this is particularly bad.”
“We would prefer the salted beef,” she said.
“The steak wasn’t that terrible,” her sister interjected.
Eve Crenshaw cast her a recriminating glance. “You didn’t touch yours.”
“I can’t say I blame you,” Erroll said.
“It will be a shame to waste the remainder of the provisions you brought aboard, my lord,” the elder sister said. “I want to serve as chef for the remainder of the voyage.”
“Can you cook?”
“Of course.”
“As interesting as it would be to see you in the galley—” and he had to admit, it would be interesting “—I must refuse.”
Her mouth parted in surprise. “You asked if I could cook.”
“I was curious.”
“I can cook enough for everyone,” she said. “We are willing to share the food you bought.”
“That would only spoil the crew.”
“No danger there,” the younger said. “Eve is not so good a cook that she will spoil anyone.”
“I beg your pardon. I am a tolerably good cook.”
“I am trying to help you,” her sister said.
“Oh. Yes, well, in that case, she is right, my lord.”
Erroll shook his head. “I am sorry, the answer is still no. It is too dangerous for you to leave this cabin.”
“Rubbish,” the younger said. “There are three of you, and only two of us. Eve is asking only to work in the galley for two or three hours. It will be no hardship for Oscar to be there with her, and Lord Somerset can keep watch over me.”
Erroll started to deny the request a second time, then realized that placing Somerset in the lady’s path played into his plan. “You do not wish to accompany your sister to the galley?”
She actually shuddered. “Heavens, no. I have never so much as made a cup of tea.”
Erroll could believe that. He looked at the elder sister. “I assume you would like to begin tonight?”
“Why not? It is early yet and I have nothing better to do.”
“The books I purchased today are not sufficient distraction?”
“They were much appreciated, thank you, but one can read only so long without moving about.”
“I’ll speak with the captain. I imagine we can come to an agreement.”
“Offer him some of the Irish brandy you brought aboard.”
Erroll stared at her nonplused. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have a nosy streak, madam?”
“No. But I have never been confined to a ship’s cabin before. Lord only knows what other hidden faults might appear if my confinement grows too tedious.”
Erroll could well imagine and, oddly, wondered how he might find out exactly what those hidden faults were.
*****
Preparing the evening meal kept Eve up late, but she slept well and woke early the next morning refreshed. She found that, though she spent most of her time below deck, the movement of the ship and the sea air agreed with her. Today, she planned a stew with freshly baked rolls for the evening meal. The hour was three o’clock, Oscar sat at the table keeping silent watch as it seemed he had done throughout her life, and she looked forward with pleasure to the work ahead.
Eve opened a small cupboard and spotted several bottles half hidden behind a sack of flour. She pulled out the flour and set it on the table to the left of Oscar’s seat, then grabbed the bottle of brandy, the bottle of wine, and an unnamed whiskey. The cook obviously liked a nip or two while he prepared meals, which probably accounted for his slaughter of their steaks. The cook would likely not forgive her for filching his liquor, but the wine would go well in the stew.
Three hours later, Eve looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. She replaced the lid on the stew, and glanced over her shoulder. Lord Rushton stepped into the galley and her pulse jumped. Heaven help her, he stood in boots, buckskin breeches, and a white lawn shirt open at the neck. His tanned chest revealed a hint of hair just above the top button. Eve yanked her gaze up to his face.
Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, but he said in a level voice, “I see you made good use of the provisions I brought aboard. The smell of freshly baked bread has permeated the ship. The crew is threatening mutiny if they don’t get some.”
Eve realized Oscar was watching him and the rogue knew it. With conscious effort, she kept her eyes on his face. If Oscar kept any closer watch on her, he would climb inside her skin. Using the same matter-of-fact tone Lord Rushton had used, she asked, “What sort of captain have we if he cannot control his men over the scent of baked bread?”
The earl grinned and her traitorous heart skipped a beat. “I will lead the mutiny,” he said.
Eve gave him a look of mock horror. “Then we had better feed all of you.” She grabbed the towel she used as a hot pad. “If I am not mistaken, the bread should be ready.” She lifted the lid of the Dutch oven that hung over the fire alongside the stew and peered inside. The buns glowed a soft golden brown. She removed the pot from the fire and set it on a tin plate on the table.
“Oscar.” Lord Rushton nodded as he rounded the far side of the table. The earl halted beside her and leaned over the bread. “I believe I could eat all these myself.”
“Then it is fortunate I made several batches.” Eve lifted the towel from a bowl where she’d placed the baked buns.”
His eyes lit like a boy at the dessert table. “You made enough for an army.”
“You did provide plenty of provisions,” she replied.
The aroma of baked bread wafted up on a wave of heat. Lord Rushton’s stomach growled.
“Haven’t you eaten today?” she asked.
“No, and I am ravenous.” He reached for one of the buns.
Eve slapped his hand like a naughty child. “The crew first, sir.”
He straightened. “That will be a novelty for them.” His eyes twinkled. “Be quick about it. I cannot resist your goods for long, madam.”
She looked sharply at him, but it seemed he referred to the bread and not her goods as she had perceived, for his eyes were closed as he inhaled another deep breath.
Eve suddenly realized that Oscar couldn’t have missed her reaction. She turned to the cupboard and withdrew three bowls, and said, “Have the men come down.”
Lord Rushton shook his head. “I will remain here and Oscar can deliver the rolls while you prepare a tray for your sister and Somerset.”
She would much rather get away from his disturbing presence, something she wouldn’t own up to that for all the tea in China. Eve buttered rolls, placed them in a large bowl, and faced Oscar. “When you return, I’ll have Grace and Lord Somerset’s dinner plates prepared.” He glanced at Lord Rushton, and she added, “Go along, Oscar, I am quite safe with Lord Rushton here.”
“That is likely where you are least safe,” Oscar said under his breath, and she wanted to box his ears for being more right than she cared to admit.
“Move along, or when we return home I will have my father send you packing,” she told him.
He grunted. “After this escapade, your father will send me packing one way or another.” He cast a final warning glance at the earl, then took the bowl of bread and left.
Eve looked at Lord Rushton. “I had not thought of that.”
He snatched a hot bun from one of the pans and began buttering it. “Had not thought of what?”
“The consequences Oscar might suffer as a result of—”
Lord Rushton looked up at her, unabashed amusement in his eyes. “Of you kidnapping me?” He bit into the roll.
She leaned against the counter. “Yes.”
“Miss Crenshaw, I must say, this bread is the finest I have ever eaten.”
“I’m glad you like it, my lord. What will Oscar do?”
“How about some of that stew?”
Eve frowned. “What?”
“The stew.” He stuffed more of the roll into his mouth and reached for one of the bowls sitting on the counter.
She reached the bowl first and ladled soup into it. Eve imagined Oscar employed in a household where the master beat his servants. The first time the man lifted a hand to Oscar—or anyone else, for that matter—Oscar would lay the man flat on his backside and end up in Newgate for his trouble.
“I’ll never forgive myself.” She handed the full bowl to the earl.
He took a whiff of the rising steam, then released the breath. “Oscar will be all right.”
“He has been in our household since I was a girl. This is all my fault.”
Lord Rushton set the bowl on the table, then grabbed another roll and buttered it. “There is no denying that.”
Eve shot him a disgruntled look. “You started it.”
“No, madam. Your sister started it.” Before she could think of a fitting reply, he said, “Oscar is a fixture in your household, then?”
“Yes.” Eve couldn’t imagine her home without him.
Lord Rushton popped the last of the roll into his mouth as he swung a leg over the bench seat. He sat down and swung his other leg over the bench. “If your father lets Oscar go, I will hire him.”
Eve broke from her thoughts. “What?”
He swallowed the stew he’d spooned into his mouth. “I will employ the brute.”
“Brute?” she echoed.
“He is a very large man and he did hit me very hard. Brute.”
She wasn’t sure if the satisfaction in his voice came from his assessment of Oscar or his delight with a palatable meal.
He took another spoonful of stew and followed that bite with a large chunk of roll. “This is really quite marvelous,” he said through the indecent mouthful.
Eve took two steps and plopped down on the bench beside him, her back to the table so she could see his face. “Really?”
“Really what?”
“Will you hire Oscar?”
He nodded, eyes on the roll, and swallowed.
“My lord!” Eve threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. “Thank you.” She was instantly enveloped with the smell of soap, sea, and man. Her cheek warmed with the contact of his skin and she was flooded with memory of his hand cupping her derriere and grinding her stomach against his hard length.
Eve released a stuttered breath…then realized he had gone still.
Her heart thumped madly and she found she didn’t know what to do. Thankfully—or maybe to her mortification—he said in a low voice, “Had I known this would be your reaction, I would have offered Oscar employment days ago.”
Holy God, she had to say something—do something—but she got another deep whiff of his scent and her mind muddled.
“While I would love to take advantage of this situation,” he said, “I fear the man I am offering to employ would shoot me if I did. As we have yet to arrange the generous marriage settlements you assured me I would give, it might be better if I commit the crime after we are married rather than before.”
Booted feet sounded in the corridor outside the galley and Eve jumped back as if bitten. An instant later, Oscar appeared in the doorway. He halted and looked from her to Lord Rushton, who was stuffing another large spoonful of stew into his mouth with the gusto of a starving man. Eve was certain he was exaggerating his enthusiasm.
“I hope you had one of those rolls,” he said to Oscar. “They are the finest in all of Great Britain.” The earl tore off another bite of roll and nodded to him.
Eve jumped up. “Let me prepare Grace and Lord Somerset’s food.”
“Do not forget Oscar,” Lord Rushton said.
Eve frowned. “He will eat when he returns.”
“He will take his supper in his hammock, then get some much needed rest. Your protector will do you no good if he collapses from exhaustion.”
“I think you are being melodramatic.”
He shrugged. “Think what you will.”
She hesitated, then realized arguing was fruitless, and readied a tray. When she turned from the small shelf after removing two cups, Eve found Oscar still standing inside the doorway, staring at Lord Rushton. She suddenly realized that Oscar would join Lord Rushton and Grace’s home, not Eve’s and Lord Somerset’s. How had she not caught that when Lord Rushton offered to employ him?
“You all right, Miss?”
Eve jarred from her thoughts to see Oscar staring at her.
“Oh, yes. I’m fine.” She handed him the tray.
“Your dinner is there,” Lord Rushton told him. “Deliver the food to Somerset and Miss Crenshaw, then get some rest. After Miss Crenshaw has had her dinner, I will see her to her cabin and Somerset will keep watch over them until morning.”
“I’ll leave the tray and return,” Oscar said.
“No need,” Eve said. “I will be going directly to our cabin after I clean up.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Oscar,” Lord Rushton said. “I did not ensure Miss Crenshaw’s safety thus far only to be the one to undo all the good I have done. If nothing else, you can rest assured, my father would have my hide if I did.”
“If there was any hide left,” Oscar said, and, thankfully—or perhaps not so thankfully— he took the tray and left.
Eve found she couldn’t move.
“Dish up some of your wonderful stew and sit down with me, Miss Crenshaw.” Lord Rushton turned slightly and extended his empty bowl toward her. “I’ll have a bit more, as well.”
She filled his bowl and gave it to him along with two more rolls, then dished up a small amount of stew and took a roll for herself.
She sat across from him. “I am sorry, sir.”
His mouth quirked. “So am I, though doubtless my regrets are different than yours.”
Her cheeks warmed. “One way or another, I’ll get you killed.”
“There are worse ways to die.”
It took Eve a moment, then she realized his meaning and rolled her eyes.
“You cannot blame me,” he said.
Eve snorted. “Men.”
“He takes good care of you.”
Despite the fact she hadn’t forgiven him for taking Lord Rushton’s side against her, affection warmed her heart. “He has pulled me from many a scrape.”
“Is he in love with you?”
“In love with me? Good Lord, no. He would never deign to look in my direction. My father would never countenance it.”
“Do you want him to look in your direction?”
“My lord! He is like a brother to me.”
Lord Rushton shrugged. “That doesn’t mean he considers you a sister.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s in his nature to protect, but he is not in love with me. In fact, I am certain he is sweet on our housekeeper’s daughter.” A moment of silence passed as she took a small spoonful of stew, then she asked, “What did you tell my father in your communication to him?”
“I told him Halifax had kidnapped you and that I’d shot him. He would have found that out soon enough, and I preferred he heard it from me rather than the rumor mill. I said your sister was with us, but gave no other explanation, and added that we were headed for Mull and would contact him once we arrived safely.”
“It was good of you not to mention that Oscar and I kidnapped you.”
“That was a matter of expediency,” he replied. “The less said in a letter, the better. Your father is no fool. I have no doubt he’ll discover the truth.”
“Only Grace, Oscar, and I know.”
“But your sister left Manchester with an entourage and went to Gretna Green. Your father may not guess that Oscar kidnapped me, but he will deduce that his daughters colluded to get me to Gretna, and Oscar aided you.”
Eve picked at her food. “Do you think he would believe I agreed to go with you and planned to trick you into marrying Grace instead?”
“Yes.”
He’d answered too quickly, which peeved her. But he was a man, and all men believed all women would fall prey to their charms. Though few eligible women of Society would prove Lord Rushton wrong, and too many ineligible women would prove him right.
“Still,” Eve said, “I do not believe my father will believe you went willingly to be married. It’s hopeless.”
Lord Rushton’s lips twitched in amusement as he popped the last of the roll into his mouth. “I feel certain he would, in fact, believe just that.”
She shook her head. “I cannot see why. He knows you have no plans to actually marry me—or Grace, for that matter.”
“On the contrary, he is certain I will marry you.”
Lord Rushton rose, rooted out two tin cups from a cupboard, and poured wine. He buttered two more rolls, then set a cup in front of her and reseated himself.
He took a long swig of his wine. “Drink it. Wine relieves tension.
Eve took a swallow and grimaced. “What is this?”
“A very bad wine. Finish it up.” He drank the rest of his.
She eyed the contents, but took another gulp. “Not as bad the second time around.”
“It never is.”
“How do you occupy yourself, my lord?” Eve bit into her roll. “We see you only in passing on our walks, and not always then. Surely you aren’t keeping yourself confined down below as we are?”
“You are not down below, Miss Crenshaw. The second mate gave up his private cabin for you.”
Eve nodded. “I knew the cabin belonged to an officer. You must have paid a pretty penny for this excursion, my lord.”
He grinned. “The very reason I enjoy full freedom of the ship—as much as the captain, in fact.”
“I suppose I should consider myself fortunate to have been allowed even the privilege of slaving away in the galley.”
“You were not pressed into service.” He ripped his roll apart and ate the piece. “You begged to be allowed to cook. But had I known what a skilled baker you are, I would have chained you here and stood guard myself.”
“You must have eaten half a dozen of those rolls,” Eve said. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
“It would be worth it. When did you learn to make these? They really are the best I’ve ever had.”
“Our cook is the finest in Manchester. That is the one area where my father insists upon the best.”
“I heartedly agree,” Lord Rushton said. “She taught you well.”
“She did, to my mother’s mortification. When I was eight, I begged Mrs. Larson to teach me. I have no doubt it began as an indulgence, but by the time I was twelve, I had mastered hot cross buns and pigeon pie, to name two of my favorites. At a dinner party my mother hosted she discovered the bread she served to guests had been prepared by my hand and nearly had an apoplexy. She threatened poor Mrs. Larson with unemployment. My father warned me to go into the kitchen only when my mother was out of the house and demanded Mrs. Larson give the first of my fruits in payment for his silence.”
Lord Rushton grinned. “I can see you sitting on a stool at the counter alongside the honorable Mrs. Larson.”
Eve laughed with the memory. “I was a sight. I had a terrible habit of getting as much flour on me and the surrounding table and floor as I did in the bowl.”
His gaze traveled down her frame and her cheeks heated. “You aren’t quite as much of a mess now.” He reached across the table and she froze when he brushed at something on her right cheek. “A smudge of flour,” he said. “Some things never change.” He grinned. “You will likely need a bath after this.”
Eve turned her attention to her stew. “One can only dream.”
“The captain has a tub in his quarters. Perhaps I can arrange something.”
She snorted. “You are being cruel. I cannot believe you would allow Grace and me a bath when you will barely permit us to leave our cabin.”
“It would be a great risk,” he said with gravity. “If the men knew there were naked woman aboard ship that would most assuredly incite mutiny.”
“My lord, you make them sound so ferocious that I wonder how in heaven’s name you have managed to control such a motley crew.”
“It hasn’t been easy,” he said. “Did it occur to you that I spend my time fending them off?”
Eve rolled her eyes. “They have not so much as glanced our way.”
“Oh, they have, indeed, glanced your way.”
“How would you know?”
“I know because I am a man. It would be impossible for them not to look.”
A tremor rippled through Eve’s stomach. “Not all men are like you,” she ventured.
He grunted. “Indeed not, but in this respect, these men are like me. Unlike me, however, some would not hesitate to force their attentions upon you.”
“You did force your attentions onto me.”
He flashed a smile so charming her breath caught. “You are too irresistible to resist.”
Eve blinked. He laughed, clearly comprehending that she hadn’t forgotten his kisses—and more—and she quickly said, “Where the sailors are concerned, I think you are trying to scare me.”
“I am, but it is only because it is the truth.”
“You have a flair for the dramatic, my lord.”
“I promise you, on this, I do not exaggerate.” His attention was on his roll and he dunked it in his stew with obvious relish. “I left no doubt in their minds that I would kill them if they disobeyed me.”
“Kill them—you are teasing me. No one would actually hurt us.”
“Invariably, there is always one bad apple, and that is more than enough to do damage. Now,” his eyes shifted to her, “what payment should I extract in exchange for arranging your bath?”