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That night, carousing with Rufus and Churley in a god-awful gin palace, Philip couldn’t keep his thoughts off of Beryl. She’d been breathtaking in her purple silk gown, and he’d wanted to stand up before his queen, her parents — and her goddamned fiancé — and declare his love for her. She was funny, brave, intelligent, and lovely.
With each glass of gin, his mood plummeted. He had to leave her to her planned, expected life, filled with luxury and all the social graces she deserved — along with marriage to a peer of the realm.
And he certainly wasn’t going to attend, even though he’d been invited, right there on the steps of Westminster Abbey.
“Of course, we’re so grateful for her safe return,” Lord Wharton had said, “you simply must share our happy day to see the future you’ve allowed to happen.”
Philip had tried to exchange a glance with Beryl to see her thoughts on her upcoming wedding, but she was staring at her husband-to-be.
In the end, he had muttered something noncommittal, rather than the “Hell fire but no!” that he was thinking.
Then Beryl had asked him what he was planning to do next, another mission for the queen, perhaps.
Again, he’d been vague because he really didn’t know.
“I may be going back to sea or even up to Dumfries.” Then he’d looked at his father for a sign of his destiny. “I have no desire at present for a long voyage,” he’d added, though if Beryl asked him to go for merely enough silk to make the gown she was wearing, Philip would drop everything and sail around the world for her.
What a lovestruck fool!
Beryl had made a sound of agreement. “I, for one, am determined never to return to the Orient.”
“No,” Arthur agreed. “A dreadful place, obviously.”
This time, Philip had caught her gaze and held it. Was she thinking about the not dreadful and very wonderful things that had happened, like their first kiss, their long talks, more kisses?
“Not that you asked me to,” she’d added, her eyes still on his.
“No,” he’d replied, speaking to her alone, thinking of her safety as the utmost important thing in his life. “I wouldn’t.”
Then, as everyone was staring at him, he’d added, “The sea is no place for a woman.”
Rufus had barked out a laugh. “Tell that to Ching Shih.” And then he’d told the others of the Chinese pirate lady who’d ruled the seas around the Orient and beyond for many years.
“Fascinating,” Beryl’s mother had said. “To think of a woman with such power.”
At that moment, Queen Victoria, surrounded by her guards left the abbey, and they all stared wide-eyed.
“Not so unusual after all,” Lord Angsley pointed out. “Congratulations, again, Sir Carruthers.”
He’d winced. “I think I’ll remain captain, thank you, or even mister.”
“Or Lord C—” Rufus had begun.
“Don’t say it,” Philip had cut him off.
The group had disbanded, and for a moment, Philip watched as Beryl strolled away on Lord Wharton’s arm, walking into her future as the man had said.
“Let’s go get ran-tan immediately. And nowhere fancy either.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Rufus and Churley had agreed.
Thus, they now found themselves drunk and happy, or at least drunk, and surrounded by gin-scented whores.
As his first mate and his quartermaster decided upon which women they would tup, Philip quietly staggered out into the night.
There was Leo!
“You’re going to get kidnapped or run over one day if you’re not careful.”
Instantly terrified at the idea of losing Robert’s cat, Philip did something he never did. He scooped him up into his arms.
“Now, now,” he soothed as Leo hissed and yowled. He squeezed him close in a manly hug.
Struggling, letting Leo give him a few good scratches, Philip held onto him for blocks until he found his carriage, and then he let him leap from his arms to the seat. It was not the fancy clarence of his father, suitable for transporting ladies. Nor was it a dangerous top-heavy phaeton, such as his brother had raced and died in
It was simply a lightweight tilbury. Perfect for a bachelor and his cat. Though he supposed, if he had a lady friend, a covered interior suitable for trysts would be desirable. Instead, uncovered, he faced the London elements of soot and fog and headed home — a newly invested knight of the realm.
***
“STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!” Beryl said aloud.
“Stop it,” Eleanor told her. “You are not stupid.”
“But I was content before and now I feel restless. I should never have gone with my father.”
Eleanor wrinkled her nose. “Really? You would have missed out on the adventure of a lifetime in order to feel content?”
It was not the lack of adventure in her life. It was the lack of Philip Carruthers. However, she couldn’t tell her friend that. If she spoke it, it would be a terrible betrayal to Arthur. Besides, Philip had disappeared after the investiture ceremony, and she’d never heard from him again. It felt like months though it had been merely a couple weeks. It might as well be years, for she had no reason to think she would ever see him again. Not ever!
If she had never journeyed to the Orient and never met him, she would, indeed, be content and looking forward to married life as the biggest adventure she could imagine. Instead, the closer she came to her wedding day, the more unsettled she became.
At that moment, seated in the drawing room with Eleanor, she simply wanted the ceremony over so she didn’t have to think of possible, yet unrealistic, alternatives any longer. As soon as she was Lady Wharton, she could begin to run her own household. Then her next adventure would be motherhood.
“I’m going to be a mother,” she said softly.
“What?” Eleanor jumped up. “Have you and Arthur—?”
“No!” Beryl interrupted her friend from even saying the words. Why, they’d barely kissed.
“I’m sorry, sit down. I’m only thinking of the future. My mind is racing. Let’s go back to discussing the wedding breakfast, shall we?”
“Did you decide where to go after the nuptials? You are taking a honeymoon, aren’t you?”
Beryl nodded. “I would like to go to Land’s End.”
“To Cornwall?” Eleanor frowned. “It is very far and deserted.”
“True, but people say it is lovely — the beaches, the coves, the pirate lodgings.”
“Pirates?” Eleanor exclaimed
“What?” Beryl jumped at the word.
Her friend sipped her lemonade and frowned. “You said pirate lodgings.”
“No, I said private lodgings. Or at least, I meant to. Anyway, I doubt we shall go. Arthur wishes to take a boat from the Old Swan Pier across the river to Gravesend and spend a day there.”
Eleanor wrinkled her nose. “That’s not much of a wedding trip.”
“Agreed. It’s all cockle-boats and ugly piers and not enough soft sand or pretty ocean. You remember last time you and I went. It was so crowded.”
“And the shrimp,” Eleanor reminded her.
They laughed at the memory. “True, everywhere, those awful signs: ‘Tea and shrimps, ninepence.’ I hardly think they go together. Plus, why would one ever spend the night there?”
“Certainly not your wedding night. Cornwall does sound better. Rather romantic, in fact.”
“Yes,” Beryl agreed. The idea of drifting off to sleep with the ocean lapping at the land, enclosed in Philip’s arms, as he told her stories of the pirates of Perranporth — absolutely heavenly.
Arthur’s arms. Dammit!
“If I push for a seaside honeymoon, we shall probably end up at Ramsgate or Dover. So much closer. And Arthur is not one for travelling far.”
They both sipped their drinks in silence. Arthur and she would have to suit one another. They simply must. After all, hadn’t she said she’d had enough adventure for a lifetime?
***
STRANGE HOW PHILIP couldn’t focus upon his father’s words whenever they discussed the wool business or going up to Dumfries to visit their sheep flocks.
Suddenly, he realized his father had paused and was perhaps awaiting a response.
“Yes,” Philip said into the silence.
“Yes?” Douglas Carruthers looked confused.
“Uh, no?” he tried again. “Emphatically, no.”
His father sighed. “Never you mind.” Pushing his chair back, he stood. “You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said. I could talk till I’m blue in the face and I would never get you interested in shearing and combing or, God forbid, moth grubs. Why, you don’t even know the difference between woolen and worsted fabrics.”
“True,” Philip said with a shrug. “I could learn.”
His father shook his head but without a trace of disappointment.
“You will never concentrate on sheep long enough to learn. No matter how lucrative. But then, I couldn’t figure out one sail from another or how to tie a sailor’s knot to save my life. That was always your mother’s people.”
Philip nodded in agreement. His father had let his family enjoy their summers in Cornwall by the sea, but he’d never entered the water as far as Philip could remember. Nor had Douglas Carruthers been able to assist his twin sons in building their small boats and sailing them just beyond the waves.
“I suppose I’ll join the ranks of the merchant seaman.”
“Not the navy?” his father asked, then offered a smile to match his son’s. Plainly, neither of them could picture it.
“Afraid not, Father. Too many orders from people who have no business giving them. I don’t wish to end up in one of Britain’s colonial sea battles, either, sent to Davy Jones’s locker over sugarcane or slaves.”
His father put a hand on his shoulder. “And I don’t want to lose another fine son.”
Philip caught his breath. It was the kindest words his father had said since losing Robert.
“Besides, you’re a knight now, there must be some way to turn that into a living.”
Philip chuckled. “I’ll see if someone at the palace will pay me to ride around the country rescuing damsels and being chivalrous.”
They both laughed.
“Actually, the queen’s foreign secretary sent a letter indicating there is some mission coming up.” Philip had been surprised to get the official letter, even more so when he was told Lord Angsley would be contacting him next.
“As long as you’re not away so long next time,” his father said. “Hard on your mother, that was.”
When his father left him alone, sitting in the back garden of their townhouse, he kept thinking of damsels in distress, at least one, anyway. And even though he ought to make a decision about his life, he had to wait and find out what Lord Angsley had to do with it.
***
“GLAD TO SEE YOU, CAPTAIN.”
“And you, sir.” Philip was finally back at Beryl’s home, summoned there by her father, and he could only hope for a glimpse of her.
“Sorry for the delay. It’s been rather busy around here what with my getting a new post and my daughter’s wedding preparations. More to do to get married these days than preparing for the Battle of Waterloo, I’d warrant.”
Philip’s heart sank. Why he’d let himself imagine Lord Angsley needing to speak with him had anything to do with Beryl’s wedding — particularly it being called off — Philip couldn’t fathom his own foolishness.
“I wouldn’t know, my lord.”
“Dresses, more than one, food and flowers, and music and guests. All far too much import placed upon the day rather than on what follows.”
“My lord?” Her father could not mean the wedding night, though that was all Philip could think of — Lord Arthur pasty-face Wharton taking his new bride to bed.
Realizing his hands had become fists, he relaxed and focused on the man seated opposite him.
“Yes,” Lord Angsley continued, “I mean, the many years of marriage are what matter, not the blasted ceremony or the wedding breakfast, which seems to be growing into a wedding feast of epic proportions.”
What could Philip say? Absolutely nothing. Years of waking up next to Beryl as his wife and going to sleep after making love to her seemed like a very good idea.
“You didn’t ask me, Captain.”
Philip frowned.
“About my new post I just mentioned. Your thoughts were all for the wedding, I suppose as everyone else’s around here. Do you wish to attend? Only fitting, I suppose, seeing as how there wouldn’t be a wedding without you.”
“No,” Philip said, then realized he’d practically shouted. “I mean, I’m sure it’s a family event. Please, my lord, tell me of your new post.” For one more word about Beryl getting married, and he was going to lose his sanity.
“I’ve been made the Royal Diplomatic Envoy to Spain, removed from the Far East route, thank God and thank the queen!”
Philip wasn’t sure how to respond. “That’s good news if you’re happy with the appointment.”
“Oh, definitely. Makes life easier all the way around. Only think how close it is. Nice climate, too. I consider it a reward for my time served in the Orient.”
“It sounds like an honor, my lord,” he offered, still wondering why the man felt he had to confide in him.
“I’m not sure about an honor, Captain. It’s not akin to your knighthood. In fact, you’ll notice a large number of barons and viscounts in the diplomatic ranks. There are so many of us, we are expendable,” he joked. “Not like your rare marquess or duke.”
“I see.” Philip had never thought about it before, and to agree seemed an insult.
“To get to the point, I’ll need a ship to take me to the sunny shores of the Iberian Peninsula. I told the queen yours would be quite suitable.”
The words filtered through his foggy brain, distracted by weddings and barons, like sunshine cutting through clouds.
“My ship? You wish to use the Robert as an ambassador’s transport.”
“Exactly! Unlike going to the Orient, I can’t show up in the Mediterranean Sea in a Royal Naval warship now, can I? Things are too shaky in that part of the world, and we’d be at war before you know it. With their leadership always changing and their civil wars and coups, I’ll need to go through the Straits of Gibraltar about once a month. Are you game for such a mission, Captain?”
Without hesitation, Philip answered, “Yes, my lord. I am.”
“First, you’ll need to build me a comfortable cabin. Unless you want me to confiscate yours.”
“No, my lord. I don’t,” he said frankly and, hopefully, without affront.
Lord Angsley laughed. “Naturally, the crown will pay for any renovations. Also, we may host a foreign dignitary on board from time to time, so we need a stateroom that looks ... well, stately.”
“Of course.” Philip’s brain was rushing ahead as to where they could fit in a stateroom worthy of the British monarch’s representative. Moreover, would his cook’s fare be suitable? What a wonderful dilemma!
“You look, if I may say, Captain, a good deal happier than you did when you entered my office. And I haven’t even told you about your compensation yet.”
Then the door opened behind him, and the hair on the back of Philip’s neck stood on end. Without turning, even before he heard her gasp in surprise, he knew it was Beryl.