The hack jostled over cobblestones. It crept over the streets, and despite the hack driver’s occasional shouts, the journey took longer than in Callum’s ducal coach. Men pushing wheelbarrows and servants rushing about doing errands didn’t halt for a hack.

Changing his mind about the prudence of the elopement would no doubt be sensible. Yet when the hack stopped before the ship to Guernsey, his doubts disappeared. He clasped Charlotte’s hand and assisted her down the irritatingly narrow steps of the hack.

The ship to Guernsey was not the most magnificent in the Thames. That honor belonged to the ships heading to the Americas with their bevy of finely attired passengers. But he ushered Charlotte through the crowd of sailors and toward the wooden gangway. Birds darted before them and skimmed their legs into the water. They squawked merrily, unafraid of the ocean, before they swept back into the air.

Dockworkers moved methodically, arranging wooden crates in neat piles and hollering instructions to any newcomers with absolute confidence. Their blue and white attire did not match the Thames’s perpetual murky waters, but it reminded him of the azure waters and diamond crested waves that they might later encounter.

He continued to hold her hand, even though they weren’t technically married yet, and even though he was most assuredly breaking protocol. Never mind. They’d be spending more than one night on the ship before they landed in Guernsey.

Boats and ships packed the Thames. The river shouldn’t have felt narrow, but it seemed as if all the world had attempted to be crammed into the river. Shore boats left triangular ripples in the water.

Beside him, Charlotte stiffened, and her legs swayed, even though the ship barely moved.

“Is your heart well?” Callum asked quickly.

“It feels fine.”

“You seem ill at ease.”

Charlotte’s smile wobbled. “Sometimes places feel too crowded to me, even though everyone else manages. It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Callum said. “I’ll have the steward show us to our cabins. I think you’ll feel better when we’ve left the Thames.”

Charlotte nodded, and Callum hailed a steward.

“I am the Duke of Vernon, and I will be traveling to Guernsey with this lady.”

The steward’s eyes widened and then he bowed deeply. “Your Grace. We are so honored that you have chosen our ship on which to travel. I will give you the best room we have.”

“This lady requires a private room,” Callum announced.

“A private one?” The steward’s expression faltered. “I’m afraid, Your Grace, that that might be impossible. At this late notice...”

Callum frowned. Charlotte was not going to be sharing the room with various servants making the passage. His future wife deserved the very best.

“There is a woman of some importance on the ship,” the steward said hesitantly. “She is the sister of Lord Braunschweig, Baron of Wolbert. Perhaps she would be amenable to sharing her room. It is quite pleasant.”

Callum sighed. He knew the baron. He was close to him in age. If the baron’s sister was anything like the baron, she would be an unideal companion. The baron’s vainness was well known. Still. It would have to do. “Please arrange it.”

The steward nodded and scurried away.

Callum took Charlotte’s hand and led her to a seat. “Tell me, what are your symptoms?”

“Symptoms?” she squeaked. “My heart hurts sometimes.”

He nodded gravely. “Is there something that brings on those spells? I want to know,” he said.

“But you’re not a doctor.”

“No. But I don’t want to see you suffer.”

She thought back to the moments when her heart had seemed to speed out of control. It had been at large events where she’d felt alone. “Loud noises. It hurts my ears. More I think than it hurts other people’s ears. It gives me headaches.”

“Then I’ll avoid them,” he said.

“You must think me so silly.” Her face was still pink, and something in his heart panged.

“Not at all. Prevention is a good remedy.”

“I know it’s not like this for other people. I’m difficult.”

“Anything else?”

“I-I suppose. I don’t like crowds. There can be...touching.”

He released her hand.

“I mean—that was fine,” she admitted. “Almost nice. But I like to know in advance, if that makes sense. If I can see you, before you touch me, that helps.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t know anyone who didn’t like touching.

Touching was a very good thing.

“Sort of like how milkmaids have to approach cows. Only from the left side.”

His lips twitched.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Smiling,” he protested. “Not laughing.”

Her shoulders slumped down.

“It’s fine,” he said gently. “I’ve never had a woman compare herself to livestock before.”

A pleasant rose color bloomed across her cheeks.

“I understand though. So no sudden touching. What else affects you?”

“No strong smells,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows. “Some of the men at balls smell quite strong.”

“You’re laughing again.”

“I’m in perfect agreement.”

“The cologne... It’s too much.”

“No cologne then.” He frowned. “How do I smell?”

“Most delicious,” she said quickly, and then blushed. Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks rosy. The woman was beautiful, even if she did not seem to be the least bit aware.

“I will do my best to make certain you’re comfortable,” he promised.

Charlotte didn’t even share a room with her sister, and he was not going to have her start now. People who were shy seemed to benefit from having space. It was not something he craved, but his brother Hamish had always seemed to take great pleasure in occasional solitude.

Charlotte could take his room, and he could room with Lord Braunschweig. He could tolerate a few uncomfortable nights if it lessened Charlotte’s anxiety.

“You’ll have a private room on the ship. The finest here.”

“Doesn’t that belong to you?” she asked.

“I can room with someone else.”

“I wouldn’t want you to do that,” she said.

“Nonsense,” he said. “It’s my pleasure. I want you to be comfortable here. Besides, I can room with the Austrian baron.”

Charlotte smiled.

“Forgive me,” she said. “You’re different from what I expected.”

“Are you saying I have a bad reputation?”

“The very worst,” she said, and then a tawny rose ascended her cheeks again. “I’m sorry. That’s probably not an appropriate thing to say.”

Normally he wouldn’t mind that he had a bad reputation.

Normally he would even take pride in it. A bad reputation meant he wasn’t living up to the expectations of his late guardians.

But now... Now he despised his reputation.

The ship moved and made its way through the crowded river. It shouldn’t have been unexpected. They’d traveled here expressly to sail. And yet...

Callum had never expected to cross the channel again. When the White Cliffs of Dover had shone like a beacon as his ship had sailed toward Kent, filled with soldiers, he’d thought he could never leave the shore of Britain again.

And yet here he was, blithely heading across.

Charlotte looked divine. Her blond hair was swept back, but curled tendrils framed her face, not quite covered by her lace veil. The thin lace didn’t mask her features, rather it only served to make her appear more heavenly.

The word was not one he’d anticipated ascribing to her. Heavenly was a word men who made love matches might use. Everyone knew Charlotte was a bluestocking. She wasn’t known for her charms, and yet Callum had an urge to take her into his arms.

Heaven.

It was a location to which she would soon be visiting.

Perhaps that explained his sudden sentimentality.

*

CHARLOTTE HAD PLANNED to be installed in the duke’s townhome, awkwardly arranging menus with his housekeeper and trying to look authoritative before a bevy of London servants who would be aware of just how unexpected her position as duchess was. She’d planned to be attending the same balls as before, though this time nobody would let her take refuge behind curtains. She had not planned to be on a ship that glided through the Thames, and that would soon glide over the English Channel.

No one, not even Flora, had asked Charlotte so many questions about herself. She’d told him that her heart hurt during stress, and he seemed determined to alleviate stress—even the kind not obvious to everyone else. Through all if his questions, he’d seemed kind. His lips might have twitched, but he seemed to be smiling with her. She seemed to know he would never share what she said with anyone else. 

More passengers gathered on the deck, observing the sailors. The ship swept through the Thames and moved past dockyards.

A well-dressed man and woman eyed them. The woman had the sort of caramel colored hair that was just unique enough to merit some attention. Her dress was stylish, and her figure was in all the fashionable proportions.

“Your Grace?” The well-dressed man raised his eyebrows in evident surprise. Not a loose hair was visible, and they must have been perfectly plucked. He waved.

“I’ll introduce you,” Callum said to Charlotte and offered her his arm.

Charlotte rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. It felt good, even if the short walk did not merit physical assistance. The floorboards were clean, and unlike on land, there was not even a hint of mud on which her feet might slide.

“My dear, Charlotte,” Callum said, “please let me introduce you to Lord Braunschweig. Lord Braunschweig, this is Miss Charlotte Butterworth.”

“I am most delighted to meet you,” Lord Braunschweig said, in a silky baritone that Charlotte did not trust at all, despite the consistency with which the man smiled.

“Though she will soon be the Duchess of Vernon,” Callum said, and the man’s eyes seemed to snap in surprise.

“You are eloping.”

“Correct,” Callum answered.

“How...romantic,” Lord Braunschweig said, and Charlotte felt that even in her wedding finery she didn’t quite meet the expectations of the ton. Finally, the man gestured to his female companion. “Please let me present my sister.”

“I am delighted to meet you both.” The woman practically purred. She lifted an elegant hand to her throat and retained a cool and composed smile that reminded Charlotte every bit of Lady Isla.

Charlotte tried to act nonchalant, and she forced a smile.

The steward reappeared. “Your rooms are prepared, Your Grace. I have taken the liberty of informing the captain that you are on the ship. You will take your meals with him.”

“Thank you,” Callum said.

The steward led them below the deck as the ship left the most crowded part of the Thames. The steward introduced them to the captain. Despite their late and unexpected arrival, everyone seemed happy for them to be on board, and Charlotte tried to quell a slight prickle of unease.

They would be on the ship for a few days, and sailors generally sailed for weeks. And yet a few days from land seemed far away. She could hardly swim back to London, should the boat capsize. One had to completely trust the actions of the captain.