Duke of a Gilded Age (34 page)

“There’s nothing like a foundering ship and attempted murder to take the fun out of traveling,” Stephen said as he buttered a warm, crusty roll at lunch. “Half so eventful a voyage would have suited me.”

Wesley laughed. “I would have preferred it to have been positively dull. Perhaps henceforth our journeys will be ordinary.”

“Mother, Louise, and I will be met in Liverpool tomorrow afternoon by our British cousins,” Stephen said. “I’ll have a great many stories to tell them on the train ride to London.”

“I believe we’ll spend the night in Liverpool so Mr. Oakhurst can rest. Then we’ll travel directly to my estate the following morning,” Wesley said.

“I was perfectly serious before, about meeting you in London. You’ll look into it, won’t you?” Stephen asked.

“Yes, of course…but I’d also like to have you stay at Caisteal Park.”

Louise slid into the chair next to her brother. “I’m glad I caught you both. The dance club is on for this afternoon! Annabelle has agreed to teach us the polka.”

Wesley was taken aback. “She has? How did you manage that?”

“With a liberal dose of kindness and a serving of chicken cutlets,” Louise said. “Eva, Stacy, and I ordered lunch sent to her cabin and Annabelle was much cheered by our company.”

Wesley frowned. “I can’t dance with my sprained ankle.”

“Not to worry, Wesley. I can partner Miss Oakhurst on your behalf,” Stephen said.

Wesley gave him a level look. “Thanks, Stephen. I knew I could count on you.”

Belle made her way to Mr. Vane’s office to check on her father, only to find him asleep, strapped into the bed for safety. Several inches below his right clavicle, a thick square gauze bandage was visible. Belle’s eyes widened in alarm at her father’s unhealthy pallor, and she bit back a gasp.

“Is my father supposed to be so pale, Mr. Vane?” she murmured.

“He lost a great deal of blood, and I’ve given him laudanum to help him sleep. Don’t worry overmuch, Miss Oakhurst. I’ve attended lectures by Joseph Lister himself on the best ways to prevent infection.”

The doctor’s smile was sincere and Belle managed to take a deep breath.

“May I speak with him later?” she asked.

“Perhaps. When he wakens, I’ll tell him you were here. You should probably bring a change of clothes for him, lass. He’ll need something to wear when he leaves the ship tomorrow—and he’s not to carry anything until his wound closes completely.”

“I’ll see to it, Mr. Vane.”

Heartened by the doctor’s prognosis, Belle hastened off to the dance club meeting.

Any reminders of the midday meal had been removed by the time the club assembled in the saloon. Although Wesley couldn’t participate physically, he watched and listened as Belle described the basic polka steps. Cavendish seated himself at the organ situated in the orchestra niche. When he began to play the
Tritsch-Tratsch Polka
by Johann Strauss, the lively tune set Wesley’s uninjured foot tapping. Since the dance club was one gentleman short, each lady sat out at least one polka. When it was Belle’s turn, she slid into the seat next to Wesley. Her eyes were bright and her skin was flushed from the exercise.

“It’s so very good to see you cheerful again,” Wesley said.

“I was completely undone this morning. Thank you being so lovely to me. When I awoke, I thought it must have been a dream.” She watched the dancers for a few moments, a misty smile on her lips. “I’m going to miss this.”

“So will I. I’ve been thinking…does Caisteal Park have bedrooms enough for all our friends?”

“With plenty to spare.”

“I’d like to invite everyone to Mansbury for a week or two.”

“Oh, Wesley, that would be so much fun!” Her smile slipped slightly. “It would give everyone a chance to meet Errol.”

Although Wesley had the overwhelming urge to take Belle’s hand and ask her to break the engagement, he didn’t.
Now isn’t the place or the time to discuss intimate matters.

“Indeed it would,” he replied, as gallantly as he knew how. “There’s a ballroom at Caisteal Park, I trust?”

“An enormous one, with a grand piano. I doubt, in all the years your uncle was in residence, that the ballroom was ever used.”

“That will soon change.”

After the last dance, Wesley gathered his friends together to tell them about the party. He was gratified when his announcement was met with excitement and glee.

“I’ll have my mother send formal invitations, of course, but save the date,” he said. “It will be three weeks from Saturday, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I understand the house is very grand, and I’d enjoy your company.”

“Caisteal Park almost a palace,” Belle said. “In fact, the word
caisteal
is Gaelic for castle.”

“I hope Grandmama hasn’t already made plans,” Eva said.

“If she has, she can change them,” Stacy retorted. “I’m going to Wesley’s party.”

“I agree,” Carl said. “How often do we get invited to a house party in the English countryside?”

“By a duke, no less,” Horatio added.

“I’ll inform Mama that Stephen and I have been invited,” Louise said. “I don’t care what she has to say about it.”

“Mrs. Van Eyck is welcome, too,” Wesley said.

“There are more than enough rooms for everyone,” Belle said.

Wesley glanced at Stephen. “What say you?”

“You couldn’t keep me away.”

After the meeting, Belle went to visit her father in the ship’s hospital. On the way, she stopped by his cabin to gather together a change of clothes and any toiletries he would need that evening. Her father was awake when she arrived, and she was pleased a little more color had returned to his face since she’d seen him last.

“Hello, Papa!”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek before setting his things on a nearby table.

“I’ve caused a bit of trouble, haven’t I?” he replied, glancing down at his bandages.

“You are brave, heroic, and no trouble whatsoever.” Belle turned serious. “I owe you an apology, Papa. I shouldn’t have made up a story about my grandfather. I embarrassed you at dinner last night and I’m very sorry.”

“You didn’t embarrass me, Belle, but telling a falsehood is never a good thing. Therefore, I owe you an apology as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“I let you believe your grandfather didn’t want to see you. That isn’t true. It was my choice to keep you from him.”

Belle was taken aback. “Why?”

“Hurt pride at the way he treated me, partly. The other reason was pure selfishness. Hamish Heathcliff is a very wealthy man, and he could have given you a great many things I couldn’t. I was afraid of losing you to his influence.”

“Oh, my dearest Papa, don’t apologize. I’ve wanted for nothing and you could never lose me.”

“Thank you, Annabelle, but I’m heartily ashamed of my behavior.”

“You nearly died to protect Wesley, Papa. As far as I’m concerned, you can do no wrong.”

Belle poured her father a glass of water from the pitcher nearby, fluffed his pillow, and straightened his blankets. “Now, I don’t want you to worry about a thing except for getting better.”

A sharp sense of remorse accompanied Belle as she left to dress for dinner. It was
she
who was in the wrong, not her father. Her lie had caused him pain in a way she hadn’t anticipated and uncovered old resentments best left buried in the past.
I’ve failed in my duties as a good daughter, and Mama would be so disappointed in me. I mustn’t fail him again—no matter what the cost.

After dinner, Belle retired to the ladies’ sitting room for a game of whist with Louise, Eva, and Stacy. Stephen challenged Carl and Horatio to a cards-in-the-hat contest, and Mr. Ley claimed Wesley for a last game of chess. The match went on far longer than any of their previous games. Three times Wesley managed to check Mr. Ley’s king, but the older man still won. He clapped Wesley on the shoulder.

“Well played, sir. You’re becoming a formidable opponent, I must say. In the few matches we’ve had, you’ve learned to protect your queen. The instinct for knowing when to attack will develop with practice.”

Wesley sat back with a crooked grin. “Does that apply to courtship as well?”

Mr. Ley roared with laughter. “In my opinion, it’s far easier to secure a victory in chess than in love.”

“But far less rewarding,” Wesley said.

“Truer words were never spoken.”

Mr. Ley produced his calling card, wrote something on the back, and gave it to Wesley. “I’d be happy to propose you for membership to my gentlemen’s club in London.”

Wesley glanced at the back of the card, upon which Mr. Ley had written
The Adventurer’s Club
.

“Let me know when you’ll be in town next, and you can have a look around,” Mr. Ley said. “It’s not as traditional or fancy as the Carlton Club or White’s, but it’s a nice place to put your feet up and have a drink.”

Genuine pleasure lit Wesley’s face. “That’s very kind, sir, and I’d be delighted to meet your friends. I do hope you’ll come for a visit at Caisteal Park. In fact, I’m hosting a ball in three weeks.”

“I’ll await your invitation.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sir Errol

S
ATURDAY
M
ORNING
F
OUND
the
City of New York
only a rainbow’s width away from the port city of Queenstown, Ireland. After a very brief stop, during which the
Apollo
passengers and crew were to disembark, the ship was to sail north through St. George’s Channel, around the Isle of Anglesey, and then due east toward the mouth of the River Mersey, England.