Caroline closed her eyes and then opened them. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Father. I truly am. But I will not marry Lord Tisdale. As I said last night, I have reached my majority. I am four-and-twenty. You cannot force me into marriage.”
Her father heaved another sigh. “It is out of my hands. The prince regent has given his blessing.”
“Only because you asked him to select someone. I am sure he will understand once you explain.”
“Explain?” Her father shook his head. “Explain what? That I have a stubborn daughter who thinks she can dictate to royalty? The prince honoured my request because I saved him from a potentially embarrassing situation—”
“Like what?”
He hesitated. “From Mrs. Fitzherbert nearly running into the Countess of Jersey at Carlton House.”
Caroline laughed. “That is priceless. The prince regent’s illegitimate wife and his married mistress. I am sure he was very grateful.”
Her father ignored her sarcasm. “He was, and he agreed that a potential heir of mine should be more than just the son of a knight.”
Caroline’s stomach began to churn again. She knew how vain and arrogant the prince regent could be. Poor mad King George probably wished wholeheartedly that his other son, the Duke of York, had been born first. She knew, too, that Lord Tisdale was entrenched in the prince regent’s set. And equally as vain and arrogant. A sudden thought struck her like an inspiration.
“I assume Lord Tisdale wants to marry a virgin?”
“I would think….” Her father stopped and stared at her. “Are you ruined?”
For the first time since her tryst with George, Caroline was glad it had happened. “Yes, Father, I am.”
He studied her for so long, Caroline didn’t think he was going to speak. Then he did.
“All the more reason for you to marry Lord Tisdale then. The earl is happy to be getting a young wife to give him sons. He will be willing to overlook an indiscretion that happened two years ago.”
“But I do not want—”
“As I said, it is out of my hands. It is clear now that no young man will have you, once he learns of.…” Her father stopped and changed direction. “I will not appear ungrateful to the prince regent for his selection.” Sir Reginald picked up the papers he’d been working on. “And I would suggest you not be ungrateful, either.”
…
Brice Barclay sheeted in the luffing foresail and looked inquiringly at Stephan. “Did I miss a command to alter course?”
Stephan frowned and then realized he’d loosened his grip on the tiller, allowing the bow of the sloop to fall off the wind. He cursed silently and adjusted his heading two degrees to starboard, so the canvas would fill again. “You did not.” Damn it. He was supposed to be doing a trial run onLady of Fortuneto determine how high she could point in relation to the angle of heel. Instead, it was his thoughts of Caroline Nash that were listing practically off the charts.
What in hell had taken place last night at the soiree? He’d stopped halfway across the room when he saw Sir Reginald and Tisdale approach Caroline so he couldn’t hear directly what had been said. He’d seen her quick glance across the room, and he’d caught her eye for a moment. She’d looked as though she’d wanted to escape.
His first inclination had been to storm across the room, but what had halted him was hearing the word “marriage.” The word spread from the closest ranks surrounding Caroline like widening, concentric circles around a stone thrown in a pond. With each renewed band of excited gossip washing past him, it seemed that the priggish earl intended to marry Caroline and that her father had approved the measure. Unfortunately, her father had whisked her away before Stephan could work his way toward her to inquire.
“Buoy straight ahead!”
Stephan snapped his attention back to the water and yanked the helm sharply to port to avoid the marker in the middle of the Thames. The foresail flapped noisily, and the boom on the main began to swing. Barclay cursed the same time Stephan did, ducking to avoid the boom and hauling hard on the jib sheet. The sloop steadied herself, and this time, Brice didn’t even look at Stephan.
He didn’t have to. In less than ten minutes Stephan had committed two errors any green sailor would have avoided. How many times had he told his crew the only thing female on their minds while on the water should be the deck of the ship they sailed? He had just flaunted his own rule.
“Prepare to come about,” he told Brice. “I am taking her back in.”
The expression on Barclay’s face saidgood idea, although his friend was smart enough not to voice the thought. He simply nodded as he prepared to loosen the sail’s sheet.
It wasn’t until they were docked with the landlines secured that Brice sat back on the cockpit bench and spoke his mind. “What in the hell is wrong with you today? In all the years I have known you, you’ve never jeopardized a boat.”
As if Stephan needed to be told that. The last time he’d had a boat in danger was the day his brother Devon had drowned…but that was a place in his mind he didn’t want to go. He sat down on the opposite cockpit bench. “Lack of sleep, I guess. Or maybe too much to drink last night.”
Barclay looked at him suspiciously. “You can drink both Alex and me under the table, and that is saying some. It is difficult to believe you would spend the whole night in the arms of one of your paramours, either.”
Stephan shook his head. Both statements were true. After Caroline had left the soiree, he had visited a number of gaming hells looking for Brice. He hadn’t found him, but he’d had the obligatory drink at each one. By the time he’d reached his townhouse, it had been only an hour or so before dawn. But Barclay was right. Neither of those issues had caused his addle-brained blunders today. The blame for that lay with Caroline Nash. Or rather, his thoughts of Caroline Nash. Or her predicament, if there was one. Stephan growled. He couldn’t even keep his mind on an even keel.
