The Ship of Love Page 3

  Behind them came a much smaller carriage with no footmen. It contained the Colonel's valet, his secretary, Rowena's lofty dresser, and Jenny, the maid who fetched and carried for the dresser.

  When everyone was ready the little procession departed in state for the railway station.

  There they embarked on a train for Dover, where they were met by a landau, a four seater open carriage, drawn by a team of four matching horses. In this elegant equipage they covered the few miles to their country home.

  They arrived to find Haverwick Castle in perfect condition, because the servants had been working night and day to get it in order. Now they all lined up to greet their employers.

  Despite its name it wasn't a real castle but a huge, magnificent house, made of beautiful grey stone. The Colonel had bought everything the departing family had to sell, not just the house but the furniture, ornaments, pictures.

  There were some fine old masters on the walls, but there were also family portraits of ancestors in silks and ruffles, farthingales, doublet and hose.

  Anyone who didn't know the truth might have believed that these were Thornhill ancestors.

  When Rowena had first seen them she'd thought them rather fun. But now she understood that her father was trying to seem something that he was not, and it made her uneasy.

  "And he wants me too to pretend to be something that I'm not," she said to her grandfather. "And I can't do it."

  "I know my dear," said the old man sympathetically. "I wish he'd give up this idea. He wasn't always so hard and ambitious, but now he thinks of nothing but grandeur."

  They were enjoying a few days alone together while the Colonel went to Dover to make arrangements for TheAdventurer's sea trials. Rowena loved her grandfather, who was the only man she knew really well.

  Until her father returned home the year before, she had lived with Mama and Grandpapa. Mama had been in ill health and she had been much thrown into her grandfather's company. The old man, and the young girl had soon become good friends and staunch champions of each other.

  They had wept together when Mama died, while Colonel Thornhill was still on the high seas, in a vain attempt to reach home in time. By the time he arrived their tears had dried, and he had seemed almost a stranger.

  Now it was a delight to be alone for a while, and talk about the old times when her mother had been alive. Her mind went back to the very early days when Mama had taught her to pray, with Grandpapa's help.

  "I always knew my prayers would be heard," she said now as they strolled together in the garden, but I never really thought they could influence or alter my life."

  "Whatever did you imagine God did with your prayers, my love," Mr. Farley teased her kindly. "Hide them away and forget them?"

  "No, but I know how very busy he must be – "

  "He is, my dear," the clergyman said. "But you must trust him to answer your prayers in his own way. He won't send down a thunderbolt from heaven. The answer will come unexpectedly, and at first you might not even recognise it."

  "Oh but I will," Rowena said fervently. "The answer must be the man I love, and when I meet him I'll know him at once."

  Mr. Farley merely smiled and looked at her fondly.

  Surprisingly, even to herself, Rowena did not miss the glamour or the thrill of being the debutante of the year. She had always loved the country, and now she had the added delight of fine horses to ride, for her father had filled his stables with splendid beasts.

  Near to the stables, there was a flat piece of land where he had ordered jumps to be built. Rowena found it thrilling to take her horse over them one by one.

  Although at first she was rather afraid of falling, she soon learnt to jump as well as she could ride and enjoyed every moment of it.

  The only thing to spoil her pleasure was that she couldn't go as fast as she would like. Burdit, her groom was a severe person, always reminding her of what 'the Colonel said.' And Mr. Farley was a nervous rider, who couldn't share her desire to gallop.

  "Oh Grandpapa," she said one afternoon, "don't you just long to throw off restraint and fly like the wind."

  "No my dear, I don't. I'm much too old. And why should you want to do something that might be dangerous? Suppose you fell and got mud on that beautiful habit?"

  Rowena laughed, for she knew she looked her best in a brand new riding habit of deep blue velvet, with lace ruffles at the throat, held by a pearl pin.

  She was mounted on Ella, a dainty, spirited little black mare, which was her favourite mount, and the two of them would have turned any man's head.

  "I promise not to muddy my habit, Grandpapa," she said mischievously.

  "Well, you do as you want. You're young, and youth is the time for flying." He winked. "Don't worry. I won't tell on you to your Papa."

  "It's not Papa I worry about. I'm much more afraid of Burdit."

  He put a finger over his lips. Rowena chuckled and galloped away, feeling Ella gather speed beneath her. They seemed to understand each other by instinct.

  It was wonderful to be going really fast, feeling the wind whistle past her head. Faster and faster she went, deep into the countryside, rejoicing in her freedom, knowing that it couldn't last.

  'I could keep on like this,' she thought, 'just galloping forever, leaving the problems behind me.'

  She knew she couldn't really do such a thing, but it was such a delightful dream that she indulged it for a moment, and in that moment she made the fatal mistake of taking her mind off what she was doing.

  Then she saw it, a fallen tree trunk straight ahead in her path. It was too late to think, too late for anything except to gather herself together, encourage Ella to leap high and far, and pray that there would be nothing on the other side.

  She was lucky. She landed safely. But almost at once she realised that she was not alone. A man on horseback was galloping towards her and she had landed straight into his path.

  He halted sharply. Taken by surprise his horse reared and plunged. He was a huge beast, and his great hooves seemed to tower over the delicate Ella, frightening her, so that she too began to rear.

  Rowena fought to stay in the saddle but Ella was maddened with alarm and out of control. She kicked and plunged, while Rowena clung on and prayed not to be thrown.

  With an oath the man jumped down to the ground and dashed for Ella's head. He didn't seem afraid of her flying hooves, but dodged them easily, seizing the bridle, and forcing the mare to be still.

  "Thank you so much," Rowena gasped.

  'He must be a servant,' she thought. 'He was wearing buckskin breeches and a white shirt, with no jacket over it. No gentleman would dress so informally.'

  Yet when he spoke his voice was cultured and his manner had authority.

  "Get down," he said curtly.

  "I – what did you say?"

  "I said get down. I have things to say to you and I don't want to say them looking up."

  Suddenly she grew still. There was something horribly familiar about the set of his head, and even more horribly familiar about his voice. Then a slight turn of his head showed her the faint hook in his nose.

  "You," she breathed. "You!"

  "Yes," he said. "We have met before. Now get down."

  "I would rather – "

  He didn't let her finish but reached up to settle his hands about her waist.

  "How dare you!" she flashed. "Let me go at once. Did you hear me?"

  The last words were almost a shriek as, ignoring her orders, he raised her in the air and lowered her to the ground, releasing her waist but keeping hold of one wrist.

  "How dare you touch me!" she said furiously. "You are no gentleman!"

  He gave a sardonic grin. "Coming from a girl who doesn't know how to behave like a lady, that accusation fails to move me."

  "You have no right to say such a thing!"

  "At the ball you went wandering away from your chaperone and very nearly paid a heavy price for it. Today you go galloping about the cou
ntry without a groom."

  Now she saw him more clearly, she realised that this man was no servant. He had a lean face with fine features, a high, noble forehead and very dark eyes.

  His hair too was dark, almost black. His mouth was wide and mobile, his chin firm.

  He behaved like a man used to giving orders and having them obeyed instantly. Rowena felt a moment's pity for anyone who defied him, then instantly decided to do so.

  The more he tried to bully her, the more she would refuse to be bullied. He would see that he was dealing with Miss Thornhill of Haverwick Castle.

  "You're making a great mistake in treating me like this. Do you know who I am?"

  "No, you silly child, and I don't want to. Don't you realise that nothing could turn this into a scandal more certainly than your name being bandied around – even from your own lips? What are you thinking of to ride out alone?"

  "That does not concern you," she said trying to wrench free from him.

  But he refused to release her wrist. His grip was light but implacable.

  "I'm making it my concern, since you keep popping up before me. I warned you last time, if you're trying to trap a husband this is no way to go about it."

  "Me?" she echoed, hardly able to believe her ears. "Me, trap a husband? I can assure you sir, nothing is further from my mind."

  "I hope you're telling the truth. Nothing puts a man off more than a girl who appears desperate."

  She was almost beyond speech. To be called desperate! She, who was used to being pursued by men, and rejecting then! She managed to find voice enough to say,

  "You have a short memory sir, if you think I'm at my last prayers. Have you forgotten that at our first meeting, I was rejecting a man who was pursuing me?"

  "That fool? I should think so indeed. You should be after much bigger fish."

  "I am not fishing!"

  "Nonsense! A girl of your age is always fishing. It's her business to get married."

  "Always assuming she can find a man who's tolerable," Rowena snapped. "In my experience, most of them aren't. And the conceited ones are the worst. Men who imagine every woman is after them are the most impossible bores."

  His eyes narrowed. "Very clever, madam."

  "You obviously recognise yourself in the description" Rowena continued. "Conceited, boorish, ill-bred – "

  "You're wasting your time," he said impatiently. "I'm as impervious to insults as to flattery. Forget about me."

  "That is a little difficult when you keep haunting me."

  "I would rather have said it is you haunting me. Suppose it hadn't been me, but some ruffian intent on harming you – "

  "As far as I'm concerned, you are a ruffian."

  "If you think that, you little goose, you've plainly never encountered one" he retorted. "A real desperado would have stolen that pretty pearl by now. He might even be tempted to steal more."

  "I – I don't know what you mean."

  "I think you do." Putting his fingers beneath her chin he tipped it up so that he met her deep blue eyes, full of anger. She tried to pull away but he slipped his arm about her first, drawing her closer, so that she could feel the warmth of his hard body against hers.

  "I think you know just how lovely you are, how vividly the blue of your eyes gleams, how softly your skin glows. And I'm quite sure you know that your lips are so temptingly curved that no man could possibly resist them."

  He gave a slow smile, like a man relishing the prospect before him.

  "Perhaps I won't even try to resist," he mused. "Your mouth was made for kisses, so why shouldn't I steal one?"

  "Because it wouldn't be the act of a gentleman," she gasped.

  "But I'm not a gentleman. I'm an evil doer, lying in wait for you, and now I've got you at my mercy. Entirely your own fault. You really should be more careful, madam."

  Rowena's heart was thumping wildly, though whether with rage or something else, she couldn't have said. She only knew that she was filled with strange sensations that she had never known before. She didn't know whether she liked them, but they were thrilling.

  She thought there was something almost devilish about him. In the same moment it struck her forcefully that he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. The thought was shocking.

  How could a man be so attractive and so wicked?

  "Nothing to say?" he asked.

  "I have this to say. If you dare to kiss me, I will make you pay a heavy price for it even if it takes me all my days.

  "Beware, sir. You think because I'm a helpless girl you can do as you like with me. You will find differently. You have been warned."

  Into his eyes came a reluctant admiration, and his gaze softened.

  "You're wrong, madam, I don't think you're helpless. Any woman who can defy me at this moment has resources of brains and courage that I have to respect."

  Her unyielding gaze was still on him.

  "I am not moved by flattery," she said firmly. "And I demand that you release me at once."

  He gave a grin that made him even more blazingly attractive than ever, while strangely emphasising his hint of the devilish.

  "I've met so few women who weren't moved by flattery," he mused.

  "Then you've finally met your match," she riposted. "And when I say 'met your match' that is not a suggestion of marriage. You are, in fact, the last man on earth I would stoop to marry.

  "You could be the richest man in the world and brother to the Prince of Wales, and I would still say you are a conceited, boorish, mannerless creature who doesn't know how to behave like a gentleman.

  "I pity the woman who is finally so unfortunate as to take your name. And if ever I hear who she is, I shall send her my condolences."

  His grin broadened until he burst out laughing.

  "Capital! If I had a glass I would drink to your spirit.

  But how will you sympathise with my bride when you don't know my name?"

  "I'll hear of it soon enough. A creature like yourself couldn't be at large for long without all society knowing. Now let me go."

  This time he did so.

  "I feel tolerably sure that I shall hear of you too, madam. Such an unusual young woman must surely create her own disturbance wherever she goes. I'll assist you to mount."

  If she could have mounted without him she would have done so, but as she had no choice she accepted his help with dignity.

  Ella had been contentedly munching grass while they fought. Now she remained steady while the man placed his hands about her waist and tossed her up into the saddle as though she weighed nothing.

  She had a feeling of blazing awareness as long as his hands were around her waist. Then he held up his whip in a gesture of salute.

  "Here's to our next meeting."

  "Here's to never meeting again," she riposted lightly.

  The next moment she'd wheeled away, urged Ella into a gallop and soared back over the fallen tree trunk.

  She found Mr. Farley still waiting in the same spot. He'd dismounted and was sitting on a tree stump, enjoying a cigar.

  "There you are, my darling," he cried in delight. "Did you enjoy your ride?"

  "It was very interesting," she said crisply. "Do let us go home quickly, Grandpapa. Burdit will be in such a fret."

  CHAPTER THREE

  They reached the house to be met with the news that Colonel Thornhill had returned from Dover. Rowena ran to greet him.

  "Oh Papa, how well you look! Did you have a good time?"

  "Excellent, my darling."

  "Did The Adventurer go well? Oh, I'm longing to see her."

  "And so you shall. I plan to return tomorrow to take her for sea trials, and I thought you would like to go with me."

  "Papa!" she cried in delight. "That will be wonderful. Can Grandpapa come with us? He loves the sea so much."

  "No, thank you, my dear," Mr. Farley said from the doorway, where he'd heard everything. "I fancy a few restful days here."

  When Rowena had sl
ipped away to change the Colonel said abruptly, "Thank you!"

  "The best thing for you and Rowena is to have a few days in each other's company, away from society. This is your chance, and I wouldn't want to be in the way."

  "I'm grateful." The Colonel grinned suddenly, becoming a much nicer man. "But I must be honest with you. We shan't be entirely free from society. The Prince of Wales will be in Dover, trying out his new yacht."

  "Well, I don't suppose you're trying to marry Rowena off to him!"

  Both men laughed, and finished the day in perfect accord. At supper that night Rowena thought she'd never spent such a pleasant time.

  Again, she did not mention the mysterious stranger to her father. But in the pleasure of going to sea she was almost able to forget him.

  Almost.

  But not quite.

  *

  The next morning the landau was waiting at the door to convey them the few miles to Dover. There they were to stay at the Ship Hotel, to save a journey home every evening, and, as before, servants had gone ahead to ensure that everything was up to their employer's standards.

  "But I don't quite see why I had to take my dresser as well," Rowena observed when they were moving. "She hates the sea, and surely Jenny would have been enough to attend me on board?"

  "But we shan't be on board all the time," her father told her. "I've saved this as a surprise. The Prince of Wales will be in Dover this week, and I have every hope that we will meet him."

  "The Prince of Wales," she breathed. "How wonderful! Will Princess Alexandra be with him?"

  The Colonel coughed awkwardly. "No, my dear. Her Royal Highness remains at home with their children."

  He didn't feel equal to explaining to his innocent daughter that the Prince was a notoriously unfaithful husband, who left his wife behind whenever possible.

  Their rooms were ready at the Ship Hotel, and after changing her clothes Rowena was ready and eager to explore The Adventurer, which she had never seen before.

  As soon as she saw it Rowena realised that she had been somewhat misled by the term 'yacht'. This was actually a steamship, one hundred and fifty feet long, and containing, according to her father, 'every modern luxury'.