This time, Beth really didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. “Practicing what?”
“Signing your future name. Lady Elizabeth Howe, Marchioness of Sheridan.”
Had they been in the dormitory at their finishing school, Beth would have tossed a pillow at her head. Having none handy, she settled for narrowing her eyes and laughing. “Watch yourself, Emily. Or I’ll give you a dunking as I did him.”
“I’m terrified.”
At the very least, she was cheerful again, distracted from her family woes. Which made Beth’s hot cheeks worth it. She let the sound of water against the hull speak for a moment and then let out a long breath. “What do you think of him?”
“Other than that he’s madly in love with you, and so has good taste?” Emily leaned over to bump their shoulders together. “I like him. Not in the way you have clearly begun to—but there is much to admire about him, and he’s without question entertaining. Though top of the list is frankly the way he looks at you. You deserve that kind of devotion.”
Did she? Beth turned her face into the wind. When she thought of devoted couples, her parents were always the first to spring to mind. And she had never wondered why her father had married Mother instead of going back to the mainland for a more “suitable” bride. She was everything bright and joyous. Everything deep and true.
Then there was Beth, constantly frustrating her brother with her yearning for something else, something more. Oblivious to the work her mother and eldest brother had been doing in what turned out to be their last year all together. So focused on adventure that she brought danger to the doorstep of those she loved best in the world.
“Sometimes I think I’m too selfish to deserve that kind of devotion.” She spoke it softly, into the wind, and didn’t turn to see if Emily even heard her.
She must have, though. She shifted closer. “Selfish? You? Don’t be silly. You were always the first to offer what you had to anyone who lacked. Always the first to tend to the hearts of your friends.”
“And also the first to run off on some new adventure, with no thought to how it may impact others.”
Emily shook her head. “It isn’t the same. And you do consider others. Those weeks you spent in hiding—it wasn’t to save yourself, it was to save your family from my brother and his associates, who are the ones who actually do what you’re afraid of. You don’t leave a trail of hurt and destruction in your wake, Beth. Not like he does.”
Kind words, but were they true? They were what Beth had told herself. But as she huddled in that hovel on Samson through lonely hours, as she explored in solitude and played a constant cat-and-mouse game, she’d had plenty of time to question her every motive.
“But we’re not talking about Nigel. We’re talking about Lord Sheridan. And he clearly thinks you’re deserving of all his affection.”
The corners of Beth’s lips pulled up. She couldn’t help it. “No one’s ever . . .” She didn’t even know how to finish the sentence. Other gentlemen had let their gazes linger before, but their attention never lasted past learning that she had only a minuscule dowry and no grand connections. Or else it shifted into something that set her teeth on edge and brought her temper to the fore. None had ever been interested in dreaming of adventures alongside her. No one else had ever thought she was worth fighting for.
Emily grinned again. “And to think, you only have to beg him for a few months, and he’s yours.”
Laughing, Beth followed the deeper channel toward St. Mary’s quay. She’d also never met a man who jested about marriage quite so much. What would he do if she did beg for a second chance?
Another experiment she’d have to add to her list. It may pair rather well with that kiss she had entertained the thought of last night.
The Naiad wasn’t the only vessel making for the quay, so she directed her attention to the task at hand. Soon enough, she’d brought them safely to anchor and they’d all scurried to shore.
A glance at the looming clouds, complete with veil of rain over the water moving ever closer, made Mamm-wynn’s words echo in her mind. “Don’t tarry too long or fly too far, little rosefinch.”
“You’ll come in for a minute, won’t you? To see if any new post or telegrams arrived?” Emily linked her arm through Beth’s, eyes hopeful. As eager as she’d been to come back to St. Mary’s for that purpose, she seemed to prefer having company.
Beth sneaked one more look at the sky. The rain would catch her regardless, and she had her mackintosh. She could spare a few minutes to spend with her friend. “Of course.”
It was Ollie who had arranged for Emily and Briggs to stay in the little flat over Mrs. Gilligan’s millinery shop, just before Beth had come out of hiding. There’d been nowhere else to let for the rest of the summer, but her brother had a remarkable way of pulling favors out of people and somehow making them feel like it was they who had been blessed. She’d had a hard time, at first, imagining Lady Emily Scofield tucked away in these small rooms, with only her maid for company. But as she trailed her friend up the steps and into the cheerful space, she thought it seemed to suit her quite well.
Which was good, since she’d apparently be here until she could make peace with her brother.
Briggs turned immediately toward the small table just inside the door, where Mrs. Gilligan must regularly deposit their post. A stack of it waited, which was enough to raise even Beth’s heart rate. That many letters must contain something of promise.
Emily crowded close to her maid’s side, but the girl soon cast her an apologetic look. “They’re all from the other domestics, my lady. I’m sorry.”
A resolute smile chased away the disappointment that flashed in Emily’s eyes. “That’s nothing to apologize for at all. It’s excellent news.”
Though clearly as unconvinced as Beth was, Briggs held out one of the letters. “From the housekeeper at the country house. Would you read this one while I begin with one from your mother’s maid?”
Tossing her mackintosh onto a chair, Beth followed Emily to the sofa and sat beside her to read the note too. Her eyes skimmed over the household chitchat that meant nothing to her, slowing again when she saw Master Nigel in the narrative. It seemed he had made an appearance in Bedfordshire last week, though only briefly. He’d arrived without warning in the evening, demanded a meal, and then vanished into the study for hours. He was gone again after breakfast the next morning.
“Well, here’s some good news,” Briggs said a minute later. She hadn’t sat but was leaning against the wall and looked over at them with bright eyes. “It seems the friend whose yacht your brother had been borrowing has taken it back—he had a trip of his own scheduled, I guess. Your brother was fuming about it.”
Emily sucked in a breath. “If he wants to come back here, he’ll have to take the ferry.”
“That’s the best news yet.” Beth had friends at the ferry office whose help she’d already enlisted. “He won’t be able to arrive again without our knowing it. Not unless he has other friends whose yachts he can borrow.” She lifted her brows at that.
Emily shook her head. “Not that I know of. Or at least not who are currently here to lend them. A few others are lounging about the Mediterranean on said yachts even now, but that is hardly helpful to Nigel.”