Her Scottish Groom (7 page)

“But, ma’am, imagine what all those papers would say if you wore the same dress two days running.” The servant handed her a pair of kid gloves.

Grumbling, Diantha descended to the drawing room on the first floor. It did not help her mood to see an echo of her dissatisfaction in Kieran’s eyes when they met, although he said nothing, doubtless out of good manners.

After the footmen loaded their luggage onto the carriage, they climbed inside for the drive south to the docks on the New Jersey side of the river.

She gazed out the window at small landmarks she and her brothers had picked out years ago: a tree leaning over the road like a giant, an ancient rock fall beside their route. Her throat tightened at the realization that she would not see them again for years, if ever.

“It’s difficult to leave home?” His lordship studied
her as he leaned back on the cushions, legs crossed. “I don’t blame you; it’s beautiful.”

Surprised at his perception, she considered how best to express her feelings. “Cliff Heights was never exactly a home. We only stayed there during the summer, or visited for Thanksgiving.”

Absently, she watched the dappled sunlight play over his features as they drove through the woods. “Mama would send us here with our governess and tutors when she visited her friends at Newport. We always knew we would experience a degree of freedom here that was never permitted us at other times.”

“I think as a peeress, you will find yourself free to do a great many things.”

She stared at him, thinking of hours spent memorizing rules of etiquette and precedence for the British nobility. “I fear I have never seen your title as anything but an encumbrance.”

He straightened up, brows snapping together. “My family’s title predates the union of Great Britain in 1707, and we can trace our line back to the days of Robert the Bruce. Those are hardly burdens.”

She arched a brow. “And I suppose your lineage is why you ended up seeking help from my father.” He glared at her as though searching for a rebuttal. “Sarcasm is unbecoming in a lady.”

She sniffed. “Snobbery is unattractive in a gentleman.” She subsided then, pleased at scoring her point.

They did not speak again until the
Columbia’s
iron hull rose beside them on the dock. Kieran cleared his throat.

“We’re going to be in close quarters for the next week. Don’t you Americans have a saying about
burying the hatchet?” He held out a hand. She took it, marveling at the warmth she felt even through her kidskin gloves.

“I’m not entirely displeased with my choice of bride, you know.” She gasped with shock at the blunt words before realizing he was teasing her. Even in jest, however, they hurt.

His eyes filled with remorse, and he moved to the seat beside her. “Forgive me, Diantha. At times I forget that not everyone shares my twisted sense of humor. Truly, my words weren’t meant to wound you.”

He squeezed her hands gently. “I only meant that despite our difficult situation, I think we can make happy lives for ourselves.”

Lives, plural, she thought with a wry smile. She had always secretly hoped to find someone who wanted to make a single life with her. But that dream had died yesterday. As Granny said, this was the only path open to her.

The aristocratic mask had dropped from Kieran’s face, and she believed he meant what he said. She nodded.

Leaning forward, he barely swept his lips over hers. “Thank you. I will be sure to guard my tongue in the future.”

“Diantha!”

They both jumped as her mother’s parasol rapped sharply against the window. Her family had arrived while they conversed. They now stood outside, waiting for a servant in Quinn livery to open the door.

Kieran’s whisper caressed her ear as he assisted
her out. “We are quite sure she’s not coming with us, correct?”

Aware that her mother would have invited reporters and photographers to observe their departure from a respectful distance, she answered through a fixed smile. “If she is, I’m throwing myself overboard.”

His shoulders shook at her hissed reply.

Fortunately, her father soon monopolized the conversation, describing the ship in glowing terms for his son-in-law’s benefit. “Five thousand tons, and four-hundred-and-sixty feet long, bow to stern. It might not compare to your
Great Eastern
for size, but my goal is to provide passengers with the most comfortable passage on the seas, not stick a mess of cabins on top of a cargo ship.

“My idiot sons told me I was cracked to take out three perfectly good cabins and make them into a suite. Ha!” He clapped Kieran on the back. “We’ve sold it for every crossing in the next year, and at a higher price than all four cabins together.”

He stopped and faced the younger man, waiting for congratulations. Judging from the revolted look on her husband’s face, Diantha gathered that felicitations were not forthcoming. She stepped forward.

“That was exceedingly clever of you, Papa.” Placing a hand on her father’s arm, she coaxed him into moving toward the foot of the gangway, where the ship’s captain and higher ranking crew members waited to be introduced.

After meeting the captain and his first and second mates, her family escorted them to their quarters.
Diantha, remembering the original cramped cabins, walked through the suite of two bedrooms, dressing room, and dining room with relief. Even Kieran could not repress exclamations of admiration at the arrangements.

Even the decoration, in her mother’s favored neo-Gothic style, did not lower her spirits. The only difficult moment came when a young steward, after a timid knock on the door, invited Lord and Lady Rossburn to dine with the captain that evening. Her father waved the young man aside. “I didn’t have that dining room put in for my daughter to eat with my employees. Bring their dinner here as planned.”

“Please inform the captain that my wife and I would be honored to join him this evening.” Kieran did not raise his voice, but the words cut across her father’s easily.

“How dare you countermand my orders on my own ship!” She flinched as her father bellowed and the steward fled.

Kieran remained absorbed in examining a writing table cleverly built into the wall. “Kindly restrain yourself from answering questions addressed to me.” He turned a glacial stare on the older man. Only the glitter of his eyes betrayed his anger.

“By God, you spoiled whelp, I’ll take back every penny I promised.” Her father’s face turned nearly purple with fury. Even her mother watched him nervously, while her brothers seated themselves on the berth to watch the battle.

“Not unless you want a lawsuit. The contract we signed went into effect yesterday.” Her husband
shrugged as though bored. “By all means, break it. It’s your reputation.”

Several squeaks and gasps emerged from her parent’s throat before he recovered his full volume and gestured to the doorway. “We are leaving! All of you, now!”

Diantha jumped. Her mother and brothers scrambled to follow his pointing finger, and she automatically started to follow. A large hand on her wrist stopped her.

“You’re supposed to stay with me.” Kieran let go of her and calmly shut the door behind her family.

“Of course. How stupid of me.” She laced her fingers together, but to her relief, his anger appeared to have evaporated.

“Old habits?” He gave her a wry grin. “He was rather alarming, wasn’t he?”

She regarded him with some awe. “He scared you, too?”

“Not exactly.” His lips thinned. “I meant it when I said I’d drag him into court.” His hand slid up her arm in a caress. “But he does use that roar of his to get his way, doesn’t he.”

“Among other methods.” She shivered.

His hand dropped from her arm, leaving her oddly bereft. “I think I’ll go explore the ship for a bit.”

Diantha bit her lip, wondering what she was supposed to do in her cabin by herself. “May I come with you?”

A smile lit up his handsome face. “I would appreciate the company.”

“Really?” In answer he held the door open and bowed her into the mahogany-paneled passageway.

* * *

They walked the decks and passages until late afternoon. Diantha told him what she had gleaned about the
Columbia
from listening to her father and brothers talk. Kieran freely confessed that he knew next to nothing about shipbuilding, and listened attentively to her.

When the ship slipped out of its berth, they took their place at the rail to witness its passage down the Hudson. She hoped a few photographers had stayed at the dock. Pictures of the two of them mixing with the rest of the passengers would infuriate her parents.

Although she enjoyed the anonymity of the crowd, she appreciated her tall husband’s bulk as he protected her from the inevitable shoving and pushing. They stayed at the rail as the buildings and bustle of Manhattan dwindled behind them, while the sun lowered in the west.

By the time they returned to the suite, a quarrel had erupted between the lady’s maid hired by Mrs. Quinn and his lordship’s valet as to who should use the single dressing room first.

“Ladies first, of course, Davison.” His lordship tossed a loose strand of hair off his forehead impatiently.

“I think it would be best if his lordship dressed first.” The dark windblown locks waving about her husband’s face riveted Diantha’s attention. They looked so soft and thick. Her fingers twitched involuntarily. “Ladies tend to require more time, and we are expected to be late.”

And so she washed her face and Florette brushed
out her hair to the accompaniment of her groom’s baritone rumbling through the closed door to the dressing room. After a quick knock, he announced that he would await her in the saloon.

As she brought out the gown she had pressed earlier in the day, the Frenchwoman apologized. “I tried to find a suitable gown for this evening, milady, but this is the best I could come up with.”

“I’m sure it will do very well, thank you.” Diantha sighed at the yards of coral pink taffeta.

It looked better than her traveling dress, she decided as she surveyed her final appearance in the full-length mirror bolted on the dressing room wall. Full evening dress would not suit the confines of a ship, so Florette had selected a dinner dress instead.

Although long-sleeved, it possessed the plunging neckline considered de rigueur for evenings, outlined in bisque-colored lace. A deep flounce of more lace trimmed the pointed bottom of the bodice where it flared over her hips, and formed three wide chevrons down the smooth front of the skirt.

Twisting to see the back, she noticed still more of the pale lace in the softly puffed bustle. “I’m still not sure about the color, but it’s so stylish! Thank you, Florette. You chose very well.”

“It’s difficult to make a poor choice from a wardrobe by Monsieur Worth. Although perhaps milady should avoid warm tones in the future.” The maid offered her opinion cautiously, as though expecting a reprimand.

“I suppose.” Diantha picked up a silk shawl that matched the trim of her gown. “I’ve always liked
blues myself. Or even red.” She sighed wistfully as she left her cabin. Decent women, according to Mama, did not wear any shade of red.

Feeling very self-conscious walking alone, she made her way down the hall to the first-class saloon, which doubled as the dining room. To her irritation, Kieran appeared to be flirting with a stunning brunette in amethyst satin. A number of covert glances from the other passengers indicated that they recognized her, and awaited her reaction.

Refusing to provide fodder for gossip, she focused on the captain, who presented himself almost immediately. “I see Lord Rossburn has met some guests already. Would you be so kind as to introduce me as well?”

She must sound like the stupidest creature in nature, she thought, as the captain presented several people to her. If Kieran had waited for an introduction to that woman, she would eat her fan. Illicit relationships abounded at her family’s level of society, and she knew the look of mutual interest when she saw it.

The captain confirmed her suspicions by resolutely steering her away from the dark-haired woman. However, the education in drawing-room warfare she had gained from her mother’s social climbing stood her well.

“Please forgive me, but I believe I see my husband.” Diantha smiled at the passengers clustered around her. “Newlyweds, you know.”

She strolled over to where he stood. Even in her chagrin his sculpted profile robbed her of breath,
but she had something to take care of. “Good evening, my dear.”

He frowned at her mocking words, but returned her greeting civilly. She placed a possessive hand on his arm and assessed the dark beauty. Up close, the woman’s looks did not strike one as out of the ordinary. She appeared to be in her early thirties, although she dressed to the best advantage. The stranger’s eyes sparkled with vivacity as she returned Diantha’s scrutiny.

Buoyed by a Worth gown, even in the wrong color, she begged her husband to introduce her.

“Indeed, my dear, I should like to do that very thing.” He turned to the woman. “May I present—?” He arched his brows with a quizzical expression, and Diantha realized with indignation that he had not even ascertained the creature’s name.

“Senhora Henriques, of Brazil, and her husband.” Turning, they saw the captain, accompanied by a dapper middle-aged man.

Kieran remained undisturbed by the interruption. “Madam, Senhora Henriques.” He inclined his head to Diantha. “Senhora, this is Lady Rossburn.”

“I am honored, your ladyship.” White teeth flashed in amusement as she curtsied.

“Delighted.” Diantha cocked her head. “I do hope you forgive my assumption that you knew my husband. He gave the impression of speaking with an old friend.” Anger flashed in the dark eyes as she emphasized the second-to-last word. A few titters sounded nearby. “Of course, I should have remembered that
my husband has no permanent acquaintances in the United States.”

At that point, the dinner bell sounded. Visibly relieved, the captain escorted the Rossburns to his table. Her warning delivered, she spent the meal discussing the ship’s itinerary.