Gage had hurried across the porch shortly after the O’Hearns’ hired livery pulled to a halt near the cabin the next morning. His guests were much earlier than he had expected, for he had been told by Ramsey that the Marquess and the O’Hearns had just begun to stir when he left for work. Gage begged their indulgence for a few moments more while he and Shemaine completed several chores which they were in the midst of. At present, he was helping his father bathe, and while the elder was occupied downstairs, Shemaine had set about cleaning his room and changing his bed linens so she wouldn’t have to disturb him later. Although the visitors seemed apprehensive about the kind of reception they were receiving, Gage politely assured them that it would only be a few moments before he and his wife could join them. Until then, if they didn’t mind, Ramsey would see to their needs.
In the absence of his employer, Ramsey took it upon himself to show them around the cabinet shop as Sly Tucker and the two apprentices worked at their separate tasks. With a great deal of pride and satisfaction, Ramsey skimmed over the painstaking process of making quality furniture, beginning his discourse by exhibiting his employer’s drawings and designs, which readily evinced Gage’s incredible talent with quill and ink. Ramsey went on to show them the difference in the grains of wood they used. Whether it was cypress, cherry, maple, oak, or some other, the unusual characteristics of each could make a piece of furniture unique. Upon concluding his talk, Ramsey led them back to where Sly Tucker was polishing a recently finished sideboard and eagerly urged the O’Hearns, their servants, and the Marquess to run their hands over the top of the piece to feel the smoothness of the hand-rubbed finish.
Camille seemed most enthralled by the merits of the buffet, for it was she who, during the length of her marriage, had selected the furnishings for their homes, a task which Shemus had willingly left to her discretion. He had realized long ago that his wife had a natural ability for turning the simplest dwelling into a comfortable, tastefully appointed haven, and he had never been one to intrude and possibly hinder perfection in the making. Over the years, Camille had acquired a keen eye for recognizing a worthy piece when she saw one, and though the lines of the sideboard were fairly simple, the tiger’s-eye grains and burled woods from which it had been constructed made it distinctive and beautiful. Stressing the fact that it was among the finest she had ever seen, Camille implored her husband to examine it more closely, wanting him to understand the skill and dedication required to produce such an outstanding piece.
Outwardly Ramsey seemed inattentive to the couple’s muted discussion, but his ears were closely attuned to their exchange. While helping Sly for a moment, he also had a chance to study Maurice, albeit surreptitiously. His lordship remained coolly indifferent to Camille’s enthusiasm as he glanced casually about the shop. His reserved dignity seemed imperturbable, and when the tour continued, Ramsey tested the precise depth of that unflappable mien by purposely rubbing a bit of salt in the Marquess’s wounds.
“Ain’t no doubt ’bout it. Mr. Thornton gots ta be the most skillful woodwright in this here area. Why, he not only draws up pieces like this here furniture from his imagination”—Ramsey emphasized his point by tapping a finger against his own temple—“he’s prosperous enough ta support several families, to boot. He’s a fair man with his wages, he is, an’ none o’ us would be as well off today workin’ for ‘nother carpenter.”
After motioning them to the window, he hurriedly wiped away some of the sawdust until they could view the unfinished brigantine that rested in bracing stocks near the river’s edge. “Ye see that?” He glanced around to assure himself that he had gained their undivided attention and briefly noted the stoic detachment that his lordship still conveyed. “Mr. Thornton dreamed ‘at there vessel up in his noggin, too. If’n ‘tweren’t for his love o’ designin’ ships an’ buildin’ ’em, he’d likely be the richest man in these here parts by now, just by what he earns makin’ furniture. But ye wait, give or take a year or two more, maybe even three, he’ll be provin’ his worth as a master shipbuilder an’ then people’ll be takin’ careful notice!”
Maurice allowed a pensive sigh to escape his lips as he turned away from the window. He had little tolerance for praise that was liberally heaped upon an unprincipled knave. If it were left up to him, he’d call Gage Thornton out right then and there and rid the world of a worthless scoundrel.
Ramsey flicked a glance toward the tall, well-garbed man. The brooding hostility now roiling perceptibly behind those noble features evidenced his success in baiting his lordship. He now deemed a tour of the brigantine to be in order to set the barb more firmly, just to let the Marquess know that it was no common man he had defamed the night before.
Bidding them to accompany him, Ramsey led the small entourage down the path to the riverside edifice and introduced them to Flannery Morgan. There he allowed the grizzled shipwright the honor of explaining the merits of Gage’s design, for none could do it with more enthusiasm.
“When she’s finished, this here’ll be what ye’d call a two-masted brig’ntine,” the old man informed them. “She’s low in the hull an’ sleek in lines. If’n ye be acquainted with ships at all, m’lords an’ ladies, ye’ll see that in this vessel, the beam is well nigh the bow. ‘Twill give her good stability in the water, all right, but I’ll warrant her best feature’ll be her speed. Why, she’ll skim through the sea like a mermaid lookin’ for a mate ta sport with.”
Camille pinkened lightly at his comparison, but the old salt failed to notice her unease as he encouraged them to follow him down the companionway. Gesturing here and there to draw their attention to several points of interest in the workmanship, he showed them around the lower levels, all the while extolling his employer’s extraordinary vision and talents. At last, he brought them up to the main deck again.
Leaving the others behind, Shemus O’Hearn went to the far end of the ship and looked back upon it, wanting to consider everything he had been shown. He had taken in the comments with an attentive ear, trying to glean some insight into the individual, Gage Thornton. What he had been most surprised about were the employees. Shemus had hired many men in his lifetime, but he was not at all sure any of them had ever been as dedicated or had taken as much pleasure in their work and accomplishments as Ramsey, Sly Tucker, Flannery and the others seemed to. In the face of their loyalty and enthusiasm, he had to wonder how a rogue could have inspired such qualities.
Shemus Patrick O’Hearn had made his own way in life, starting with little and working his way up to much. It was not at all surprising that he began to feel a grudging respect for the colonial as he became cognizant of the many achievements and diligent ambitions of the man who had married his daughter. When he recalled his own beginnings and the misgivings that Camille’s parents had once expressed about the Irish upstart who had thought himself good enough to court their daughter, he had to wonder if he was being too biased and harsh-minded when it came to the cabinetmaker. Over the years, he had won a place for himself in the hearts of Camille’s family, and they were now among the first to declare that he was a member of their family. Would the day ever come when he, too, could esteem his new son-in-law?
The question of Gage’s involvement in the death of his first wife, however, remained his primary concern. It was a matter that had to be reckoned with or it would remain a sharp wedge between them, dividing one from the other. Shemus knew in his heart that he’d have to be totally convinced of Gage’s innocence before he could ever feel comfortable about Shemaine’s marriage, no matter how industrious the colonial was. Yet when questions still persisted in the hamlet after the passage of more than a year, Shemus seriously doubted the probability of such an occurrence. And even if he had to drag Shemaine aboard a ship bound for England, Shemus knew he would never leave his daughter in the care of a suspected murderer.
Throughout the tour of the ship, Maurice du Mercer had maintained a phlegmatic silence. He still felt a fierce enmity against the man who had stolen his betrothed, and he’d have choked before disclosing the tiniest bit of interest or admiration for his rival’s achievements. It could not be said, however, that he wasn’t impressed, despite the ill will he bore the man. He had no doubt that Gage Thornton had a good eye for quality and beauty. Shemaine was certainly proof of that. Still, had he been able to dictate circumstances in his favor, Maurice could have easily wished the colonial had gone blind before laying eyes on the dazzling beauty to whom he had offered his own heart.
The clouds that had seemed to hang in a perpetual gloomy gray over Maurice’s life since their arrival that morning vanished as soon as Shemaine joined them on the ship. She was wearing a fetching pale blue gown, a white lace-trimmed cap, and a white apron tied about her slender waist. In all, she looked very much like a colonial wife. Utterly delicious, Maurice mused, feeding on her beauty as she hugged her parents. Indeed, he was so moved by her presence, he became convinced that he would have given his entire wealth just to be the man who now claimed her.
“I’m sorry Gage and I couldn’t come greet you properly as soon as you arrived,” Shemaine apologized graciously. “His lordship still hasn’t fully regained his strength, but he was greatly desirous of dispensing with basin baths and having a good soak in a tub. For that, he needed Gage’s assistance. It seemed a good chance for me to clean his room. I hope you don’t mind.”
“His lordship?” Maurice had caught the significance of the address and was most curious.
Any doubts about the Marquess being equal in height to her husband were put to final rest as Shemaine leaned her head back to meet his gaze. It was a similar necessity when looking up into the amber-brown eyes. “Gage’s father is Lord William Thornton, Earl of Thornhedge.”
A look of wonderment passed across Maurice’s face. Lord Thornton had been his advocate on many bills before Parliament which had been intended to define the rights of individuals under English law, including one that would have forbidden the shipping of prisoners to far-off ports, especially for the purpose of spilling out the refuse of English gaols onto their colonies.
“Do you know him, your lordship?” Shemaine queried.
Maurice cocked his head and looked at her curiously, deepening the color in her cheeks. His dark eyes glowed with luminous warmth as a poignant smile curved his handsome lips. “What is that which you called me, Shemaine? I thought we had progressed far beyond titles and formal addresses.”
Shemaine was sure the apparent ease with which Maurice now seemed able to disconcert her was primarily due to the prodding of her conscience. In her eagerness to accept her husband’s proposal, she had given little heed to how Maurice might be hurt by her decision. She had basically taken it for granted that with so many winsome admirers among the nobility, her former fiancé would have casually directed his attention elsewhere after her disappearance.
“We’re no longer betrothed, my lord,” she reminded him in muted tones, uncomfortable beneath the fervid intensity of those dark orbs. “And I do not think it proper to address you by your given name any longer.”
“I give you leave to do so, Shemaine,” Maurice murmured, moving closer. “You shall always have a place in my heart, even if I cannot win you back.”
Where once she had been at ease with Maurice, Shemaine now found herself on pins and needles. She was convinced that his nearness would bring about another confrontation after her husband joined them, and she was bemused by it. Was it some deliberate strategy on his part to rile Gage, or did he hope his proximity would play upon her emotions, perhaps making her regret her marriage to another? Whatever his reasons, Shemaine would have preferred him at a safer distance. Any moment now Gage would be coming up the building slip, and if there was one thing she had noticed since last night in Newportes Newes, it was the fact that her husband now seemed quite possessive of her, as if he feared losing her to her former betrothed.
In the awkward silence that followed, Camille stepped forward and placed a doting kiss upon her daughter’s brow. “My dear, you look lovely.” She had seized upon a portion of Shemaine’s earlier statement and greatly desired to know more. “But tell me, dear, do you not have servants to clean for you?”
Shemaine laughed blithely, thankful for the interruption. “No, Mama, I do all the cooking and cleaning myself.”
“The cookin’?” Bess repeated, staring agog at her former student. “Ye mean all of it?”
The cook’s rampant astonishment drew an amused chuckle from Shemaine. “You’d be amazed by what I’ve been able to remember from your instructions, Bess. In fact, Gage has said that I’m the best cook in the area.”
Bess was flabbergasted. “My goodness, darlin’, an’ here I was thinkin’ I had failed ta teach ye even the basics.”
Camille had been the one to insist that Shemaine learn such wifely duties, but she was certainly no different from other doting mothers who preferred to pamper her only offspring, at least for as long as they were near. Camille had wanted the servants to accompany them to ease their own adjustment to the untamed wilderness, and she now saw even more advantage in their presence. “Perhaps while we’re here, Shemaine, you might enjoy having Bess and Nola take over those duties so we can visit together. Would you mind terribly?”
Shemaine wrapped her arms around her mother and hugged her close. “No, of course not, Mama. I’ve been missing Bess’s cooking so much lately, my mouth waters just thinking about it.”
“And Gage? Would he think us presumptuous if we took over his household?” Camille asked hesitantly.
Espying her husband coming up the building slip, Shemaine hurried to meet him. Noticing the frigid scowl that he bestowed upon the Marquess, she slipped an arm through his and gave it a reassuring squeeze as she whispered, “I love you.”
A lean hand caressed hers as he breathed, “You make my heart sing even in the midst of anger, my sweet. You’re my love . . . my heart’s desire.”
Beneath his warm smile, Shemaine could feel her own heart swelling with the joy of her devotion. Drawing him back to her mother, she presented the matter which she and her parent had been discussing. “Gage, Mama would like to know if you would mind Bess and Nola doing the cooking and the chores while they’re here.”
Gazing at Camille Thornton, Gage realized his wife had been bequeathed her mother’s regal beauty. Shemaine might have inherited her coloring from her father, but she had definitely inherited the delicate features of her mother. “If Bess taught my wife, Mrs. O’Hearn, I have no doubt that she’s an exceptional cook. I’m sure Shemaine will enjoy some leisured moments to spend with you.”
Shemaine squeezed her mother’s hand. “You see, Mama. He’s not an ogre.”
Camille reddened and was immediately reluctant to meet the smiling amber-brown eyes that rested on her. “I fear my daughter exaggerates, sir. I never thought you an ogre.”
“ ‘Tis good to know that, madam,” Gage replied easily, though he was just as certain she still believed him a murderer.
Gage moved away slightly, facing his rival, and silently presented a challenge with a cold-eyed stare. As handsome as the Marquess was, it was understandable that he had suffered pangs of jealousy when he had noticed the man hovering near his wife. Though the nobleman had doffed his tricorn after leaving the carriage, he was nevertheless meticulously garbed, wearing a royal blue frock coat with narrow breeches, waistcoat, stockings and costly shoes, all of a rich creamy hue. In the bright sunlight the much lighter creaminess of his shirt and stock nearly bedazzled the eye. His black hair was neatly tied in a queue at his nape, and his skin had taken on a deep, rich hue from his recent sea passage. Gage could now understand why Shemaine had been so sure that Maurice would find another. He was good-looking enough to attract women in droves.
“You seem quite rested, my lord,” Gage commented with an absence of warmth. “Should I assume the accommodations were adequate?”
Maurice’s eyes glinted with icy shards above a cool smile. “The hospitality of the Tates could not have been warmer, but I’m sure you can imagine that I had much on my mind.”
“Shemaine, you mean,” Gage prodded.
“Aye, Shemaine,” Maurice murmured softly, as if the name soothed his very spirit. “She is like gentle springtime after a hard winter.”
“Aye!” Gage agreed. “But she is mine!”
Maurice gave him a lame shrug. “For a time, at least.”
Flannery drew Gage’s attention as he approached from the companionway. “Cap’n, may I have a word with ye?”
“Of course, Flannery.” Gage felt a bit frustrated with the intrusion, but he excused himself from his guests and followed the shipwright to the rail.
Flannery squinted up at him with an unbridled grin. “I know ye’ve got company, Cap’n, but I’m thinkin’ ye’ll be likin’ what I have ta tell ye . . . considerin’ it’s ’bout some people what are wantin’ ta have a look ’bout this here vessel today. Ta be sure, sir, they may have a mind ta buyin’ her.”
They spoke quietly together for a moment and then, battling the same contagious grin that had infected the old shipwright, Gage came back to Shemaine and, begging their guests’ apology once more, drew her aside. “Flannery has just told me some great news, my love, and I wanted to share it with you so you can give me counsel. It seems there’s a sea captain in the area whose family is in the shipping business. He made the trip downriver yesterday from Richmond, and last night he sought out Flannery in Newportes Newes. He’s bound for New York with other members of his family later today, but before he leaves, he would like to come out and look over the ship. Flannery has sailed under him before and has assured me that he has the money to buy the ship if it meets his requirements.”
“Oh, Gage, that would be wonderful!” Shemaine exclaimed, immediately mindful of the fact that her parents would be less likely to get into a verbal altercation with her husband while there were strangers present. It was a confrontation she desperately wished to avoid, and her heart was filled with hope that they might yet escape such an event.
Peering down at her rather dubiously, Gage queried, “Won’t your parents be offended if I devote the greater part of my attention to these other people while they’re here today? I cannot hope for acceptance while they continue to believe I’m a murderer, but if they become convinced that I’m deliberately avoiding the issue, they might try whisking you away without giving me a hearing.”
“I would be furious with them if they did,” Shemaine stated with firm conviction, but she soon smiled. “Oh, Gage, I’m sure my father understands the importance of conducting business when the moment is ripe. And I would not see you miss this opportunity for all the world. You’ve dreamed of selling the ship from the very beginning. Besides, ‘twill give my parents more time to get used to the idea of us being married. It was rather a shock for them to arrive here hoping to rescue their virginal daughter from bondage only to find that I had not only been wed during my separation from England but had also conceived.”
“Aye, they probably still consider you their little girl.”
Shemaine laughed softly and spoke for his ears alone. “If they only knew how lustful I’ve become, my love. Why, they’d never believe I haven’t been bewitched.”
A grin teased Gage’s lips. “What kind of bribe may I expect for keeping your secrets, my sweet?”
Shemaine pondered his inquiry with smiling sultry eyes, but she played the poor maid, constrained by circumstances. “Anything you wish, fine sir. ‘Twould seem you have me at a disadvantage, for if I do not comply with your desires, you will surely defame my good name.”
“Anything?” Gage’s own eyes glowed.
“I’m at your mercy, sir. Whatever your will may be,” she answered, lowering her gaze submissively as she tried to curb a threatening grin. “I only pray that you’ll not treat me too harshly.”
“Ah, nay, never harshly, my sweet,” Gage promised. “Otherwise, I would spoil the treasures I heartily seek.”
Shemaine yearned to know more. “What treasures are those, my lord?”
“Your love . . . and your eager response to my slightest touch.”
“Is it so noticeable?”
Gage plumbed the wide, translucent depths of smiling green. “Aye, but I would have it no other way, my sweet.”
“Nor would I,” she breathed, her whole being brimming with love. “As you have correctly surmised, I tremble with desire at the lightest stroke of your hand. You have truly made me your slave, sir.”
“Eh, no slave,” he assured her, “but a wife warm and willing. I cherish our moments alone together, when we are of one mind and body.”
Shemaine wanted to slip into his arms, but she realized that Maurice was watching them closely and felt a need to turn the subject to something far less stimulating. “Tell me, Gage, what time is this sea captain supposed to arrive?”
Gage glanced around, wondering what had caused her abrupt change in topics. When his searching gaze met the cold, penetrating glare of the Marquess, he understood completely. For a moment their eyes dueled in chilling combat. Then, pointedly turning his back upon the other man, Gage faced his young wife again. “Flannery thought they should be here before the noon hour, my pet.”
“Then I will instruct Bess to cook up a feast for our guests,” Shemaine declared, her enthusiasm beginning to soar.
“On such short notice?” Gage queried in amazement.
“Of course, my darling. Bess can work miracles in no more than an hour’s time.”
Gage was not at all sure it was fair to require a banquet from the cook when she was in a strange kitchen and there was so little time left to prepare it. “Perhaps you should talk it over with Bess first, Shemaine, and allow her to say whether or not she can manage such a feat.”
“Bess enjoys proving her abilities,” Shemaine averred. “So don’t worry that she’ll be provoked by my demands. But if you wish, I shall discuss it with her and let her decide.”
“I would prefer that you do, my sweet.”
Shemaine smiled up at him tenderly. “Whoever said you were an ornery beast really didn’t know you very well, Gage Thornton. When you concern yourself about putting a servant to more trouble than she might normally expect, then ‘tis plain to me you’re a very caring individual. ‘Tis but one of the reasons why I love you so much.”
The amber-brown eyes glowed into hers. “You always make my heart soar with those reassurances, my sweet.”
“Do you need any?” Shemaine asked, her lips curving. No matter who watched them, she found it incredibly easy to respond to her husband with all the tenderness and gratification of a wife who was loved and in love. It was strange, but she never felt so much a woman as she did in those moments when she was with Gage. “Haven’t I always given you the best I’ve had to offer? My heart, my body, the very essence of my gender are thoroughly pliable to you alone. Or does perchance the presence of my former betrothed strip away your confidence?”
“The Marquess is a handsome man, madam,” Gage admitted without answering her question directly.
“Aye, but so are you, my darling . . . and you are the one I love.”
Gage inclined his head briefly in acceptance of her affirmation as his eyes continued to gleam, this time above a roguish grin. “I need as many assurances as you’re willing to give, madam. Once we’ve gained the privacy of our bedroom this evening, I’ll require far more to assuage my heart. And, of course, I’d like to delve more thoroughly into the matter we were discussing earlier. Anything encompasses a lot of possibilities, madam.”
Her white teeth tugged at a bottom lip as Shemaine tried to subdue a grin. “I shall accept that as an invitation, sir.”
Gage’s eyes glittered with the luster of yellow diamonds. “Then you’ve been advised, madam.”
Shemaine acknowledged his warning with eager delight. “I shall look forward to the occasion.”
“No less than I.”
Shemaine glanced beyond Gage and noticed that Maurice was now scowling sharply, as if resentful of the fact that she had been flirting with her own husband. Shemaine sought to defuse his ire by assuming a more serious mien for the protection of the one whom she held most dear. She knew Maurice’s abilities, and she dared not test his ire. “If this captain likes your ship, Gage, would he actually consider buying it before it’s finished?”
“If what he sees and hears meets with his approval, then it’s completely possible. With my guarantee that it will be finished as planned, he can be assured that no one else will buy it in his absence.”
“But what if he wants to make changes? Is that permissible once you’ve agreed on a sum?”
“As long as such changes don’t hinder her design, then they’re completely acceptable. I’ll just have to figure the cost of any additional work before we agree on a price, and then hopefully we can strike a bargain. A portion of her cost will have to be left as security, but once the ship is finished and meets all the requirements of my guarantees, then the man can return, pay the remainder of what he owes me, and take immediate possession.”
Shemaine grew troubled. “There’s no way he can cheat you like Horace Turnbull tried to do, is there?”
Gage laughed, easing her concern. “Flannery says the captain’s word is like gold in a purse. If I deliver what he expects, then he will do the same. He’s looking for a ship that’s as swift as some of those the French are now sailing. I would not want to boast, but I believe this one will put the French crafts to shame.”
Shemaine sighed with contentment. “ ‘Twould be nice to sail on the vessel for a few moments before she’s gone forever from our sight.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged, my sweet. The man will want to try her out before taking full possession, and at that time I’ll ask him if he might allow other passengers to accompany us for a short jaunt along the coast.”
“I’d love that!”
Camille joined them and laid a hand upon Shemaine’s arm to draw her attention toward the path in front of the cabin, where Erich Wernher and Tom Whittaker were toting a pair of large trunks toward the cabin. “Dear, we’ve brought some of your clothes from England. Where would you like them taken?”
“My clothes!” Shemaine gasped in ecstatic delight. With cheeks rosy and green eyes sparkling with excitement, she faced her husband and gave him a dazzling smile. “Oh, Gage, I must go see!”
“Then run along, my sweet,” he urged with a chuckle. “And don’t forget to talk to Bess about our additional guests. There will be five coming, three women and two men. And if she’s agreeable to cooking for so many, Erich and Tom can set up some planks on carpenter’s benches to make a table on the front porch. We can all eat out there.”
Shemaine nodded and, half turning, lifted a hand to her sire, bidding him to accompany her mother to the cabin. Pausing briefly, she faced her husband with another question. “Will your father be up to joining us?”
Gage responded with a slow grin. “I’m sure he’ll make the effort with Mary Margaret here.”
“Then I’ll have a place set for him,” Shemaine said, walking backward several steps. “Be sure and let me know, as soon as our guests arrive. In the meantime, I’ll be trying on my gowns to see which of them still fits.”
Her husband gave her a doubtful stare. “You don’t imagine that you’ve grown more than a mite, do you, madam?”
Furtively Shemaine passed a hand down the front of her bodice, denoting the area she worried about most. “In some places perhaps.”
Gage’s laughter accompanied her descent, but when he turned and found Maurice glowering at him, his mirth ceased abruptly. “Are you still here, your lordship?” he challenged, vexed with the man for having eyed them like a hawk. “I thought you’d have taken the hint by now that Shemaine is content to be my wife and left of your own accord. Or do you still see some advantage in drooling over her like some lapdog?”
Maurice was hardly in the mood to apologize. For too long, he had observed the couple talking together, and their obvious affection for one another had provoked his jealousy. If not for cruel fate, it might have been hint for whom Shemaine had sparkled.
Folding his hands behind his narrow hips, Maurice approached Gage with a measured tread, thankful for this opportunity to be alone with the man. He was anxious to make certain truths known to the rascal and, for that, he needed privacy. His statement was as clear and to the point as he could make it. “I won’t be departing the colonies, Mr. Thornton, until I’m able to leave with the woman I hold dear.”
Gage’s eyes chilled. “To do that, my lord, you’ll have to kill me.”
An indolent shrug accompanied the Marquess’s reply. “I expected as much.”
“Perhaps you should consider that Shemaine might prefer me over you.”
Maurice’s black eyes lightly skimmed downward from the bronzed features of his adversary to the broad shoulders clothed in a white, full-sleeved shirt and the taut, narrow hips garbed in tan breeches. He casually took note of the square-toed black shoes before he met Gage’s mildly amused stare once more. “I’ll allow that Shemaine may have cause to be infatuated with a man of your stature and good looks, sir, but I’m sure in time she’ll forget you.”
Gage’s riposte nearly drew blood. “Like she did you?”
The black eyes smoldered with suppressed rage. “I’m sure ‘twas only the circumstances in which Shemaine found herself that compelled her to agree to your proposal of marriage, Mr. Thornton. Had she known we were sailing here to rescue her, I have no doubt she would have rejected your offer.”
“Perhaps,” Gage admitted, “but only because she would have felt obliged to honor your betrothal.” He looked contemplatively at the Marquess. “But tell me this, if you would. If you were to kill me, how could you ignore the child now growing within her?”
Maurice disliked the sharp prodding of his memory on that matter. “Because the babe will be a part of Shemaine, I will endeavor to give him every benefit that I would afford my own offspring.”
Gage scoffed. “Every benefit?”
“Not my title, of course, but I will see that he . . . or she . . . lacks for nothing.”
“Except his true father.”
“That can’t be helped, unfortunately,” Maurice retorted blandly. “You see, I cannot leave Shemaine here alone with you, knowing there could come a time when you might kill her as you did your first wife. I would never forgive myself if something happened to her which I could have taken measures to avert.”
“So you’ve judged me guilty to placate any qualms you might suffer when you attempt to kill me—”
“Attempt?” The Marquess laughed caustically at Gage’s choice of words. “My good man, if I make up my mind to kill you, then be assured I shall do just that. I will not merely make an attempt!”
Somewhat incredulously, Gage inquired, “Are you so sure you can kill me?”
“Unquestionably.”
Gage paused a thoughtful moment as he assessed the Marquess’s confidence. His statement had not been conveyed with despicable arrogance but with an unwavering conviction. “Shemaine warned me about your talents with dueling pistols and a sword, but she also said that thus far you’ve only wounded your opponents.”
“I shall take special pains to serve you a death sentence, sir.”
Gage cocked his head at a contemplative angle. “If you’re so skilled at dueling, my lord, would it not be the same as committing murder to fight with another who has never dueled in his life?”
Maurice’s mouth twitched with sardonic terseness. “Hopefully, I shall be serving justice her due and saving Shemaine from the fate of an early death.”
“And will nothing deter you from the path you’ve chosen?”
Maurice paused a moment to ponder Gage’s question and finally responded with a brief, affirmative nod. “If you were to be completely exonerated of killing your first wife, then I must allow that you might be a fit husband to Shemaine. At least, with that assurance, I would be confident about leaving her in your care.”
Gage returned the Marquess’s steadfast stare, understanding the man completely. He would do nothing less himself. “Then I shall endeavor to hope for my family’s sake, my lord, that your hand is stayed by such a miracle.”
Maurice grew reflective as he appraised the other man. “I perceive you are no coward, Mr. Thornton.”
Gage inclined his head imperceptibly as he returned the tribute. “Nay, nor are you, your lordship.”
William Thornton made a valiant attempt to rise to his feet as Camille and Shemus O’Hearn entered the parlor, but Shemaine laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder, urging him back into his chair.
“Do not stress yourself, my lord,” she begged softly. “My mother understands that you are recovering from a serious wound and cannot grace us with your sterling manners.”
“I told his lordship as much meself, but he wouldn’t listen ta me advice,” Mary Margaret volunteered from the settee, setting aside the playing cards she had been holding in her hand.
Andrew scooted off the settee and ran to Shemaine. When Bess and Nola had entered the kitchen, he had sought solace in the familiarity of Mrs. McGee as a close friend, but now that Shemaine had returned, he felt at ease again. Shemaine introduced the elders to each other and then presented the boy to her parents.
“And this is my son, Andrew,” she proudly declared, hugging him affectionately. “He’s two years old, can count to ten and can even spell his first name.”
“Oh, what a fine, handsome boy you are,” Camille praised admiringly. “And so smart!”
“Mommee Sheeaim taught me,” he said with a rather shy but captivating grin.
“Andrew, this is my mother and father. . . .”
He looked up at Shemaine wonderingly. “Your mommee and daddee?”
She answered with an effervescent smile. “Aye, they’ve come all the way from England to see us.”
“My daddee, too?”
She responded with an affirmative nod. “They’ve only known about your daddy since yesterday, but they came out today to see him.”
“That’s my gran’pa!” Andrew proudly announced, motioning with a curled finger toward William.
The Earl of Thornhedge grinned back at the O’Hearns. “I say, we do need a foursome to play whisk. Might the two of you be interested?”
“My father is a wicked cardplayer,” Shemaine warned with a twinkling smile.
Shemus snorted in amusement. “Yer mother may look like an angel, me girl, but she’s done me in, in more ways than I’d care to count.”
Camille patted her husband’s arm dotingly. “ ‘Tis only because you let me win, dear.”
“Ha!” Shemus scoffed at the absurdity of such a notion. Facing William, he swept a hand toward his wife. “The truth is, me lord, she lets me win.”
William chortled and then winced slightly as he was reminded of his healing wound. A bit more soberly he asked, “Does that mean we’ll have a foursome?”
“I would visit with my daughter in her bedroom first, then I’ll be delighted to join you and your lovely companion in a game,” Camille replied graciously.
Bess came from the kitchen into the parlor bearing a small platter of crumpets. She had cut the bread into small, bite-sized pieces and now offered them to her mistress. “Ye’ll be wantin’ ta try a wee taste of this first, mum.”
Sweeping her eyes over the contents of the plate, Camille grew puzzled. “Whatever for, Bess? I’ve tasted your crumpets before. Are these any different?”
“Aye, mum. They’re what your pretty darlin’ made.”
“Oh.” Camille wasn’t at all sure she wanted to subject herself to such a questionable task just yet. Through years of arduous disasters in the kitchen, she had been well educated to the faults of her daughter’s cooking. She did not necessarily want another sampling now, something that she would indubitably taste the whole day long and come to regret upon retiring to bed later that evening.
“It’s all right, mum. Taste ’em,” Bess encouraged.
Gingerly Camille picked up a tiny piece and sampled it. By slow degrees the expression on her face was transformed from careful reserve to glowing radiance. She conveyed her approval with an exuberant smile. “Why, they’re delicious!”
Bess nodded eagerly. “We did it, mum. We taught our li’l darlin’ ta cook!”
William sought to squelch his amusement before he was again tormented by the consequences, but the more he tried, the more he was inclined to chuckle. Clasping a pillow to his chest to subdue the pain, he peered at Shemaine. “ ‘Twould seem, my dear, they’ve been entertaining doubts about your cooking skills for some time.”
“Believe me, my lord, their distrust was well earned,” Shemaine rejoined with amusement.
“Not anymore, though, I’ll warrant,” Mary Margaret chimed in. “His lordship and I’ve been wonderin’ if’n yer Bess can now cook as well as yer pretty self, Shemaine Thornton.”
“Maybe not,” Bess pondered aloud, then she heaved her plump shoulders upward in a good-natured shrug. “An’ if not, then I’d be a-thinkin’ I’ve outdone meself teachin’ her.”
“The acclaim belongs entirely to you, Bess,” William responded jovially. “You’ve made all of our lives more enjoyable by your efforts.”
“Thank ye, yer lordship.” Bess bobbed a curtsy and bustled into the kitchen, tossing back a pleased grin.
Shemaine followed the cook into the kitchen, where she spoke to her privately for a few moments, informing her that there would be more guests arriving soon. Bess promptly reassured her there would be no difficulty in laying out a feast for everyone to enjoy. It would not be the most elaborate, the cook warned, but there would be plenty for all. It was what Shemaine had expected, and she gave the woman an affectionate hug. “I thought you could do it, Bess, but my husband didn’t want me to upset you with more work than you could handle.”
Bess grinned back at her. “Tell yer mister I’m appreciative o’ his kindly concern, darlin’.” Then she leaned forward to whisper. “He’s a right fine gent, if’n ye ask me.”
“He is, truly,” Shemaine agreed in an equally quiet tone.
Shemaine quickly directed Erich and Tom where they were to erect the table, and when she returned to the parlor, Camille swept her hand toward the master bedroom, drawing her daughter’s attention to the two O’Hearn trunks that stood near the end of the bed. “Shall we go in and have a look at what Nola packed inside the chests?”
“I can hardly wait!” Shemaine caught her mother’s hand and pulled her along behind her as she ran into the room.
Shortly after being closeted with her parent in the master bedroom, Shemaine shook out a pale aqua gown of silk floral brocade fashioned with a square neckline and three-quarter-length sleeves. After Nola gave the gown a careful pressing, Shemaine swept it over her head. The garment seemed to settle in place with the eagerness of an old friend yearning to revive a close acquaintance. Camille stepped behind her daughter to tighten the laces at the back of the bodice, tied a narrow ribbon with a jeweled pendant about Shemaine’s neck, and then called upon Nola’s talents to create a suitable coiffure. The maid was teary-eyed with joy at the opportunity to brush and comb Shemaine’s hair once again. Not so long ago, she had grieved for her young mistress, believing her dead, and was deeply thankful the O’Hearns’ search had not ended with a morbid discovery. She considered it a celebration of sorts to be able to sweep the tresses into a charming coiffure on top of her charge’s head and arrange a trio of ringlets that hung down coyly from behind a dainty ear.
A hand mirror was brought out from one of the trunks, and Nola held it while her young mistress admired the results. Camille looked on in approval and smiled as she counted their good fortune in finding their daughter again.
“Oh, Nola, I feel much like my old self again!” Shemaine exclaimed. “Thank you!”
“Ye’re prettier than ever, mum,” Nola replied, squeezing her mistress close to her in a fond embrace. Then, with a smile, the maid took her leave.
“You do look just as beautiful as ever, my dear,” Camille said, blinking back the wetness that threatened to blur her vision as she gazed at her daughter. “Just wait until Maurice sees you.”
Shemaine stiffened slightly, and when she turned to face her mother, she probed the teary blue eyes that seemed to plead with her. “Mother, I’m not married to Maurice. Gage is my husband. I would encourage you to remember that.”
Camille’s brows came together in a distressed frown. “Will he ever be able to give you what Maurice is capable of?”
Shemaine detected the slight quaver in the other’s voice and recognized the hurt and anguish in the delicate visage. As much as she loved her mother, she would never allow herself to be coaxed away from Gage with beautiful clothes or promises of unending wealth. “Mama, I love my husband, and I will have no other. . . .”
“But there are many who say he killed his first wife—”
“Aye, and I have met several of those people who’ve dared say such things. If you were to meet them yourself, Mama, you would see through their ploys and their eagerness to spread tales that they’ve enlivened for their own purposes. Roxanne Corbin is a spinster who has wanted Gage for her own since he first came here to Virginia more than nine years ago, but he married Victoria instead. Roxanne could not tolerate that fact. Who knows? Roxanne may have even been the one who killed Victoria. She was certainly the one who discovered Victoria’s body. After Gage and I were married, she came out here, intruded upon us while we were celebrating our love for each other, and vowed to tell everyone that he had killed Victoria. She’s a spiteful woman, Mama, bent on having her way, and if not, then at the very least seeing Gage destroyed. Is this someone to whom you would listen? Would you entertain doubts about Papa if some envious fellow were to come to you and say that he was a thief?”
“No, of course not, Shemaine, but—”
“No buts!” Shemaine threw up a hand to halt her mother’s arguments. “I will hear no more slander against my husband! And if you’ve brought these clothes to me today with the hope that you could somehow persuade me to leave Gage, then take them back. I can do without them. But know this, Mama, I will have no other husband but Gage until one of us is laid in a grave!”
Camille pressed a trembling hand to her brow, trying not to yield to the anguish that was tearing her apart inside. “How can I leave you here with him, knowing there’s a chance you might not be safe . . . that he might kill you, too?”
“Mama, please,” Shemaine murmured cajolingly. “Don’t worry about Gage. . . .”
“I can’t help it, Shemaine,” Camille moaned in abject misery. “You’re our only child . . . our darling little girl. We could not bear it if you were slain! And you are so very young! You’ve not had much experience with men! Gage is so much older. . . .”
“He’s no more than two years older than Maurice,” Shemaine argued desperately. “Do those two years make such a difference in your mind?”
Camille’s brows flicked upward briefly as she tried to find a suitable justification for her prejudice. “Gage seems much older.”
“Perhaps because he’s not had the world delivered to him on a silver tray, Mama. He’s had to work hard for what he has achieved. Just like Papa had to do once.”
“Your father was much younger when he and I married.”
“Let this discussion be at an end,” Shemaine urged. Her mother tried once more to speak, but her daughter shook her head passionately. “I’m going outside to show Gage my gown. When I return, I hope you will have settled it in your mind that I’m married to him and I will not let that fact be undone. You have a grandchild on the way, Mama, and I’d like to think that you are looking forward to that event as much as I am. Please, don’t waste your time telling me how you abhor and distrust my husband, because it will only drive me away from you.”
Camille shook her head sadly and sniffed as she wiped her nose on a dainty handkerchief. “I do not abhor Gage, Shemaine. Truly, if I could be assured the accusations against him are only lies, I’d be content and pleased that you love him so.”
“Then I shall pray that something may come to light to ease your fears,” Shemaine said softly. “Because I cannot bear to see you cry.”
Shemaine gently kissed her mother and then left, closing the bedroom door behind her. William was the first to notice her change of attire and artfully arranged coiffure, and offered praises equal to those of a courtly swain.
“I’d have sworn by the glow filling the room that the sun had risen for a second time today, but I can see for myself that it’s only your beautiful radiance.”
“You’re most gallant, my lord,” Shemaine responded with a gracious smile, dipping into a curtsy.
Stepping to the front door, she paused there to look back at Andrew, who had charmed his way onto his grandfather’s lap. “I’m going outside to see your father, Andy. Want to come along?”
“Goin’ ta see Daddee!” he informed William happily, and wriggled quickly to the floor.
Taking the child’s small hand in hers, Shemaine met her father’s worried stare and managed a fleeting smile before she took her leave.
Her return to the ship caused both Gage and Maurice to stop and stare in deep appreciation of her beauty, but as her husband slipped his arms about her and drew her close for a kiss, Maurice felt a torturous pang of envy wrench his vitals. The need to escape the couple’s presence became needful and paramount. He had endured their marital courtship too much for one day. With hands clenched, spine rigid, he stalked across the deck and never looked back as he descended the building slip.
In the absence of his daughter, Shemus hurried into the bedroom to find his wife weeping silently in her handkerchief.
“Did ye have a chance ta talk with her?” he asked anxiously.
“Yes, but no good came of it, Shemus. Shemaine is determined to stay with Gage. She says she loves him and will have no other.”
“Damn the Irish pigheadedness!”
“Shemus! For shame! She is our daughter.”
“Aye, but ‘tis me own stubborn self I see in her.”
“Perhaps she’s right, Shemus,” Camille offered dolefully. “What right do we have to condemn the man when we know so little of the truth? Shemaine swears ‘tis envy behind part of the gossip. A spinster who wanted Gage to marry her—”
“We’ll see what Maurice can do,” Shemus mumbled, hardly hearing his wife. “Perhaps he’ll be able to talk her into coming back with us. She said she loved him once, and I know he loves her.”
“I don’t think Shemaine will come home with us, Shemus, not without her husband. And if we force her, she’ll hate both of us forever.”
“Have we lost her?”
“Aye, Shemus, ‘tis what I now fear. We’ve lost our little darling. She’s grown up into a woman, and she has a mind of her own.”