His Californian Countess (2 page)

“Adventurer?” She took a deep breath, which made her breasts swell inside the pretty blouse she wore. “My, but I like the sound of that! I’m an
adventurer!
”

He dragged his gaze off the sight of her lovely bust line, but it fell on her mouth. Then what she’d said sank into his muddled mind. Jamie laughed as the ship fell out a bit from under them, and by some fortuitous hand of fate, she fell right into him. Glad he was anchored against the rail, he caught her in his arms and enjoyed the feel of her petite form from the instant their bodies came into contact. Then he steeled himself and regretfully helped her get on her own feet.

Flushed, she ducked her head and apologized for her clumsiness. “Not to worry,” he told her, while keeping his enjoyment to himself. “You’ll get your sea legs under you quick enough.”

She hugged herself and shivered. “Well, unless I want to take a chill, I must get to my cabin and unpack. I may come up again after finding my shawl. It’s been nice talking with you. I suppose I’ll run into you again. Large as the
Young America
is, it is small in the general
scheme of life. Thank you for helping occupy my mind. I was a bit nervous about leaving the docks.”

“I didn’t get your name,” he said as she turned to walk away.

She pivoted and shot him that enchanting frown for a split second before her lovely smile blossomed. “No, you didn’t,” she replied, then hurried away.

His bark of laugher turned several heads, but he didn’t care if they thought him odd or gauche. She was really quite refreshing and he was sorry to see her go. But she was correct. During more or less the next one-hundred-and-thirty days if the ship had fair winds, they would see each other constantly. He couldn’t help but be glad of it. He’d get her name when next they met.

Jamie turned back toward the river and leaned his forearms against the gleaming gunwales. After several minutes, his eyes began to burn and the reflected sunlight became annoying rather than appealing. Perhaps his pixie had taken the magic of the sailing with her and perhaps she’d had a good idea about settling in.

But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what cabin he’d secured for himself. He started off and realized his legs were less steady than they’d been all day. He made a grab for the rail. The movement of the ship made walking difficult so he stayed put for a few minutes longer. Finally, a boy dressed in what appeared to be a uniform, passed near him. “My name is Reynolds,” Jamie said, his voice sounded rough and strained. “I wonder if you could direct me to my cabin and help me locate another passenger, Miss Helena Conwell.”

The crewmember, a boy of perhaps fifteen or sixteen, stared in obvious surprise for a moment, then his confusion seemed to clear. “Ah. Lord Reynolds, is it? We’d
begun to despair, thinking you’d missed the ship.” The lad had it wrong—he was Lord Adair, not Lord Reynolds—but British titles were confusing and mostly unimportant to Americans. That was why he dropped its use whenever possible. But arranging for a specific cabin near a woman who was not in his party had needed a certain amount of diplomacy and prestige, as well as extra funds.

“Sir, are you quite all right?” the crewman asked.

Jamie straightened and shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the swirling thoughts muddling his brain. His mind bounced next to Mimm and all her fussing that he might be ill. It was ridiculous that he could have gotten what his daughter had. Meara’s doctor had all but promised it was only a disease of childhood. But even if Jamie was sick in some more minor way, he still couldn’t let on. They’d surely put him off the ship. Helena was on the
Young America
and he had to make sure she was safe and that she understood all that had happened.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he answered finally, then stiffened his back and notched his chin up.

The crewman nodded, but looked a bit dubious. “Your cabin is actually across the saloon from Miss Conwell’s. Close as possible, as you requested. This way, sir.”

Jamie’s exhaustion increased as he moved below, following the crewman through the saloon in the raised poop deck until he stopped before a cabin door.

“Stateroom six is yours, sir. The lady’s is just over there. Stateroom three,” the crewman explained and indicated Helena’s door or hatch or whatever the hell it was called aboard a sailing ship. The lad tried unsuccessfully to cover a smirk. “I’ll be steward for both staterooms during the graveyard shift. Just hang that
little sign on the door if you’re needing privacy with her.”

Jamie felt his temper instantly rise. “Miss Conwell is a
lady,
sir, and I’ll thank you to keep that in mind when you speak of her or to her. Her late father was a great friend of mine. I am merely here to pay a debt to him by seeing she reaches her chosen destination unmolested. She is alone in the world or she’d never be traveling unchaperoned.”

The young man had the grace to blush. “I’m sorry, my lord. I apologize for repeating what the doc said…” He cleared his throat, then continued, “I’ll do what I can to put an end to the gossip.”

“See that you do,” Jamie ordered. “The doctor is a drunk from what I saw when I was aboard to arrange passage. I cannot imagine why Captain Baker keeps him on.” Then for some reason he thought of the pixie-woman he’d been talking with. She also seemed to be alone and he couldn’t help be worried for her, too.

“Is there anything more I can do for you, my lord?” the lad asked, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

Jamie was so annoyed he waved him away when he could very well have used his help unpacking. He’d left Hadley, his valet, at the town house. The man was more liability on the sea than an asset and Jamie had no wish to make the poor fellow miserable for the four months it would take them to arrive in San Francisco.

He looked at Helena’s door, tempted to knock, but he didn’t want to give anyone the idea there was even a hint of scandal brewing about her. He had wanted to see her immediately, damn it. It had been weeks since they’d danced at her birthday ball. He’d been disappointed
when he’d realized her friendliness that evening had been a ruse. He’d wanted to establish at least a degree of peace between them and he’d failed. That night she’d run from her guardian and it would seem from him, as well.

He felt unsettled and unsure. It was as if a curtain had risen on his life, as if he were part of a comedy. Worst of all, he was as powerless as a marionette controlled by some sadistic specter. Nothing made sense and he could not reason it all out.

Except the vow he’d made at his wife’s graveside. That was written firmly on his heart. He would never again deviate from his chosen course as he almost had with his offer of marriage to Helena. He would only marry again for love. But as he didn’t understand what love meant or trust the nebulous emotion when declared, marriage was for him not a possibility.

It seemed to him that thus far those who declared love expected the object of that rather unstable emotion to declare it in return. Yet those who’d so far declared it to him had deserted or betrayed him. Consequently, the very idea of surrendering his heart to anyone caused a visceral fear to course through him. No, he’d had enough of that painful emotion to last him the rest of his life. His heart was locked up and he’d tossed away the key.

He stood in the doorway, staring at her door. He’d finally caught up to her.

After a while, his thoughts swirling, he wondered why he was still there in his doorway when he felt so very awful. So heavy. His throat so sore. He turned into the room behind him and was hit by a wave of dizziness. He looked around, his mind spinning like a child’s
top. Why was the room tipping? Swaying? Why was the room so dark? His town house was always bright.

He looked around again, confusion swamping his mind even more. Where was he? This was not home. He should find out where he was. The room spun out of control as he turned back to the door. He grabbed for it, but missed and it swung away from him. Then the floor rushed up at him as blackness descended. And two thoughts revolved in his head. He needed to confess to Helena his part in her father’s death. And he didn’t know the pixie’s name.

Amber turned and took a survey of her pretty cabin. Yes, it looked perfect. This was the cabin of an
adventurer. The handsome man
she’d flirted with on deck had called her an adventurer and that had given her the idea to make the cabin reflect her new path in life.

On the wall near her porthole she’d tacked the image of Memorial Hall in Philadelphia painted on rose-colored silk. It looked lovely against the cherry wainscoting. It had come from her unscheduled stay in the City of Brotherly Love. As she’d told
the handsome man—
that was how she thought of him—she hadn’t wanted to pass up seeing the Great Philadelphia Centennial Exposition and World’s Fair.

Above the bed she’d tacked the postcards from all her adventures. There was one of the Women’s Pavilion and Memorial Hall and some postcards from the Philadelphia Zoo where she’d seen too many exotic animals to count. And all the colorful tickets from everything she’d seen. It was a week she’d never forget.

Taking in the fair and zoo hadn’t been the first adventurous thing she’d done, though. The first had been
applying for a post of governess to two small girls of a wealthy California family curious about the state where she’d been born. Then, rather than travel the whole way by train as she’d originally planned, Amber had decided to play decoy to help a friend. She’d left town wearing the clothes of a young woman named Helena Conwell, who was in love with a mineworker Amber had known since childhood. But Helena’s guardian was bent on keeping the lovers apart even though he no longer had any legal control over her. The happy couple had escaped west while Amber, still playing decoy, would travel by clipper to San Francisco while using Helena’s name.

Amber sympathized with Helena’s wish to marry the man she loved. Amber herself would never marry, though. She’d never have the children she’d always wanted, either. Those dreams had vanished the day Joseph died.

He’d been gone a year now. But the memory of his final moments when they’d carried him from the mine, clinging to life, would always haunt her. He’d loved her so deeply, so perfectly, that he’d fought pain and death itself just to see her one last time. The memory brought with it a pain so sharp that each time it rose in her mind she still needed to press upon her broken heart to get past the moment. She would never risk that kind of pain again.

So now she would build other memories.

Alone.

She had no choice in that. She’d given her heart and Joseph had taken at least half of it with him. The rest would remain hers and hers alone.

Now she would help raise two precious little girls. The little darlings had even written her from their home
in San Francisco with the help of their mother so they could tell her how excited they were to meet her.

Excitement was what all this was about. Excitement kept the pain at bay. That was why she’d flirted with
the handsome man.

Amber used to spend holidays and summers with her friends from Vassar at their families’ summer homes on the banks of the Hudson River near the college. She’d always watched those carefree young women act the coquette and now she’d finally done it herself. But she was a bit embarrassed that she had. He must think she was terribly bold. Or a bluestocking, which she supposed wasn’t as bad. Of course he may have thought she was both. The absurdity of that made Amber giggle. No one at home would believe it of her.

But this voyage was about a change as well as excitement. A different life from the one she led as a teacher in the town where the mine had taken Joseph seemed the only way to forget her pain. With any luck someday she would remember the happiness she’d felt in the arms of her own sweet Joseph without the accompanying hurt.

Enough of this! She’d said goodbye to that old life. A life better left behind if she could not share it with Joseph. It was time to greet a new day. One on the high seas!

Suddenly tired from all the turmoil of getting to the pier and the sailing and, yes, of flirting, then remembering all that had brought her to this place, Amber decided not to go back up on deck. She tossed her shawl over the chair in her stateroom and lay on the charming bed. She stared up at the elaborate canopy and realized she dreaded seeing the man from deck again anyway. She’d run out
of flippant things to say and she’d been terribly affected in physical ways that she’d never been with Joseph.

After a while she fell asleep, only to have
the handsome man
invade her dreams, and she felt things she’d never felt before, either. Oh, goodness, she wished she hadn’t had that conversation about “marriage duties” with her soon-to-be mother-in-law. Joseph’s mother had laughed, saying she found nothing of a duty about the experience and if her husband had done his job with Joseph he would make sure Amber didn’t see it as a duty, either. She had told Amber much of what she should expect and feel. And in her sleep, she finally felt most of these emotions. She didn’t wake again until morning’s light beamed through her small porthole. Though her room was cool, her skin felt flushed and somehow needy.

Damn that
handsome man.

A
mber straightened the velvet bow around the collar of her pink blouse. It matched her navy-blue wool skirt perfectly. Then she took one last look at her hair in the little mirror over the dresser. Time to go for breakfast, she told herself, but her gaze remained locked with her eyes in the mirror as thoughts spun through her mind.

Would she see him? Amber bit her bottom lip, unsure if she wished for a “yes” or “no” answer. She supposed she would see him. It was inevitable after all. So when she did, what should she say after the reckless way she’d flirted?

The real question was how she could even face him. And if they did speak to each other, it stood to reason he’d ask her name again. She would be forced to give Helena Conwell’s name. That was the trouble about lies. They seemed to multiply. She sat down on the bed, tempted to skip the meal altogether.

But no. That would only put off the inevitable anyway and it would be cowardly. She’d flirted on purpose. This was her
adventure,
though she had not named it as
such until then. She had promised to travel as Helena. It had even been her own idea and she’d given her word. That thought helped her get a grip on herself. Honor demanded she continue as planned.

She stood, marched to the door and pulled it open. As she turned the key in the door to lock it, she heard a deep groan come from behind her. She whirled and another low moan drifted out of the cabin across from hers. Amber noticed the door stood ever so slightly ajar. Hesitant to offer aid to what sounded like a man, she looked around the deserted saloon. Perhaps she should go for help, but he sounded to be in dire need and Amber had never been one to stand by and do nothing.

She advanced on the door and carefully pushed it open a bit, but after little more than a foot she met with resistance. “Hello,” she called out. “Sir, do you need assistance?”

Another groan was the only answer. Concerned for her fellow traveler, she thanked God she’d worn her own plain blue twill that was unencumbered by a bustle. She took a deep breath, squeezed around the door and nearly stepped on the gentleman’s outstretched hand. He lay on the floor with his face turned away from her.

“Sir,” she called, her voice trembling as she stepped around him. Then she could only stare. It was
the handsome man.
He was clearly sick or injured.

She sank down and laid her hand on his forehead. He was burning up. She looked around and hurried across the stateroom to the washstand. After pouring water into the washbowl, she rushed back with a cool cloth to bathe his face.

His eyes opened and he stared up at her with glazed
violet eyes. She didn’t know what startled her more—their pure violet irises, or his words.

“Helena?” he asked, his voice weak with fever. “Is it you?” He reached up and traced her cheek with his burning fingers.

She told herself it was the fever that made that slight touch radiate heat through her. It had to be, for she didn’t want to feel anything for one of the men trying to stop Helena from living her life as she saw fit. “How
dare
you seek to interfere with—” she began.

He grabbed her wrist and seemed not to hear her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Franklin was inventing evidence against Kane. Please, believe I didn’t know.” There was such vehemence in his gaze that she found herself transfixed. “Harry was so worried for you as he died in my arms. I must keep my promise. I must protect you, Helena. You must be wary of Gowery. More wary even than you were. He is not what he seems.”

Amber decided not to argue names or intentions at that point. “Yes. Certainly,” she told him in her gentlest tone. “Put all that from your mind. Right now you must get to your bed. Let me help you.” She might well have saved her breath for he seemed to lapse into sleep. She tried to tug him upward, but he was dead weight. Kindness had failed…“Listen to me, you large galoot. Sit. Up.”

“Yes, Mimm,” he answered and rolled up onto his knees. “I’m hot, Mimm. I’m so hot.” He dragged himself to his feet with help from her. Once standing, he looked in her eyes. “Goodness, Mimm, you’ve shrunk. But you’re very pretty, suddenly.” He frowned. “You’re not lookin’ a bit like yourself.” Once again she heard the touch of an Irish accent in his speech and fought a smile.

“Come…You’re not far from the bed. One foot in front of the other,” she ordered as they wove across the floor. And then his weight got the better of her and he toppled, pushing her on to the bed. Stunned, she lost her breath as he landed half on top of her. Amber tried to shift out from under his body, but no matter how she squirmed and tugged, she couldn’t get her dress free. Desperate, she pushed on his shoulder so she could take a breath. He opened his eyes and stared into hers. “You aren’t Helena.”

“No, I’m Amber.”

“You’re my pixie. Did you just appear there?”

“No. You fell upon me,” Amber explained. She’d been so busy trying to help him, she’d forgotten all about the fact that
the handsome man
knew Helena. But her anger had cooled. He seemed to only want to help the woman she’d promised to impersonate. He’d talked as if he were an old friend of her family’s, but not a friend to Helena’s guardian.

A knock sounded in the cabin. “Is there a problem, ma’am? I heard a shout.”

“Oh, yes,” she called back. “I came to this man’s aid and he’s collapsed on top of me.”

“Has the gentleman perished?” he asked, sounding suspicious.

Her patient tried to push himself off her. “Are you my angel instead?” he asked. “Am I dead after all?” He stared at her with heartbreak in his violet eyes. “What will happen to Meara?”

His eyelids drooped closed then and his weight pressed more heavily on her. “He’s not dead, but he is very ill,” she called the man at the door. “I just need help to get up, then we can summon the ship’s surgeon.”

“You’ll have to extricate yourself,” the man at the door shouted. “I am a minister—Reverend Willis. I will pray for the man, but I fall ill very easily. I shall go find the doctor, though.”

“Then find him quickly, for God’s sake!” she shouted back, though she had to admit it came out like more of a croak, what with a man’s weight all but crushing her.

In the next moment, she managed to twist herself free, but her skirts were still trapped under him. So there she sat, showing more ankle than she had since she was in short skirts, but at least she was no longer trapped.

The doctor bustled in, wearing a rumpled light-colored suit of clothes and dingy waistcoat, his face bearded, a pair of glasses perched on his florid nose. And enough alcohol on his breath to knock out a room full of sailors. “What is this about a woman of ill repute trapped under a sick man? And why didn’t I know you were available?”

“How dare you!” Amber gasped and stared at him in speechless horror. Then she took a deep breath, trying to get hold of her anger. From the other girls at Vassar she’d learned that disdain got a woman further than anger. Amber notched her chin higher and tried to look down her nose at the man who stood half a head taller than her. “I am nothing of the sort!” She shook with rage inside, but explained in a cold haughty voice how events had transpired.

The doctor nodded and walked around behind her. His only response to all she’d said was a short phrase. “Do
not
leave this cabin.”

And with that ominous statement, she felt a tug as he yanked her skirts free. Sparing her no more than a
glance when she hopped down off the high canopied bed, he went about examining his patient, unbuttoning the man’s brocade waistcoat and fine cotton shirt. Then the doctor began muttering and swearing.

Averting her gaze, she backed toward the door. “Well, thank you very much for your help. I’ll just return to my own cabin.”

“You will remain here, my dear.”

She froze. “Why?”

He turned to face her. “You may wish you hadn’t meddled. You have been exposed to whatever disease this man has. You must be quarantined with him for the duration.”

“The duration?”

“Of his illness and yours should you fall ill.”

“I most certainly will not! I won’t get whatever he has. I’m extremely healthy. Besides which, I am an unmarried lady. I cannot stay in here. I have a stateroom just across the saloon that is paid for. If necessary, I shall go there until you’re convinced I will not take sick with whatever has stricken him. What, by the way, is wrong with him?”

“He is a victim of scarlet fever.”

Normally she wouldn’t question a physician, but this man had clearly been drinking. “Isn’t that a child’s illness?”

“I have seen it in the odd adult. And he is quite seriously ill with it.”

He sounded so positive. “Oh, the poor man.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes, pegging her with his penetrating gaze. “And you will stay and lend yourself to nursing him. If not, he’ll die.”

Her ears had surely failed her. “Lend myself toward
nursing him? I spoke with him only briefly on deck! And, as I told you, I am unmarried.”

The doctor locked his gaze on her. “Do not take me for a fool. Or simply a drunk. I am quite sober today. Lord Adair asked for a stateroom near yours. I was there when he booked passage. And I found you trapped on the bed with him.” He shook his finger at her. “You apparently know the man quite a bit better than I. If you refuse, you would be signing this man’s death warrant. He may not survive anyway. But I cannot help that.”

“Not help it? You are supposed to be the ship’s doctor.”

He backed toward the door. “There are many others aboard who may need my care on this voyage. For their sakes, I cannot help him at the risk of my own health. If you refuse, the captain might well order him cast overboard rather than wait until he perishes.”

Her heart wrenched. Could he do that? “You will not!” Her gaze shot to the man on the bed. To think of the kind, funny and, yes, handsome man, who’d teased her being thrown away like refuse broke her heart. If she declined, he would at best be left to his own devices and would most certainly die. Women back home often nursed injured miners. If they could do it, she could do it, too.

She looked back at the doctor and bit her lip. “I know less about nursing than I do about him,” she admitted. “You called him Lord Adair. What is his Christian name?”

“I believe I remember him saying he preferred to be called James…no…it was Jamie. Not at all what one would expect from Britain’s ruling class. Am I to assume you are willing to care for him?”

She took a deep breath. “You give me little choice if
he is to have any chance, Dr.…uh…what
is
your name? I think I should know the name of the man coercing me to do something so far beyond my experience and propriety.”

“I am Dr. Bertram Bennet, late of New York, and ports east, west, north and south.”

“Fine, Dr. Bennet, what do I do?”

“Bathe him with cool water to lessen the fever. I will see nourishing broth is delivered to keep up his strength and—” he whipped off his worn black neckcloth “—put this on the door if he perishes.” His eyes softened a bit. “We will have to consign him to the deep if he does. It is the way of the sea.”

“Have you no powders or remedies?” she demanded as the doctor made for the door.

He stopped and sighed. “I will send something for the fever, but it rarely works for a pernicious disease such as scarlet fever. Mostly I believe such illnesses must run their course.”

“Doctor…what…what about his…um…his clothing?” she managed to ask, her cheeks burning like fire. She was sure he would need to be undressed. How else would she bathe him? How had she gotten herself into this? Oh, yes. She’d forgotten adventures often lead to difficulty.

The doctor considered her, raising one of his eyebrows. Her cheeks heated further. “Perhaps you don’t know the gentleman as well as we all believed. Just cut his clothing off. He can afford the loss. The earl is as rich as Croesus. I will have your trunk pushed in here. I am sorry your life has been thrust on this new path. Do you know why he insisted upon a cabin near yours?”

“From his ramblings, I have deciphered that he was a friend of…my father.” She hesitated. Lying was difficult for her.

“That is what he told the steward, but no one believed it,” Dr. Bennet said.

“He was apparently with my…uh…father at his death. It has left him feeling some duty to see to my safety.”

The doctor nodded. “I hope for Adair’s sake he has the chance to fulfill his mission.” Then he turned away sharply and left, closing the door with such a resounding thud that Amber jumped. It felt as if the door had closed on every plan she’d made for the rest of her life. As if nothing would be the same again.

She turned back to the bed and took a deep breath. The earl didn’t look very lordly at the moment. He looked rumpled and sick. And he needed her help. She wanted him to get well, but if he did, she wouldn’t look forward to his learning of the ruse that had put both of them aboard this ship.

If he was to get well, she first had to deal with his clothing. After the dreams she’d had all night long, she didn’t know how she would care for him so personally and not think of them. But she had no choice.

He murmured and tossed on the bed as she rummaged in his trunk. She found only a straight razor and a rather nasty-looking double-edged knife. The latter didn’t look as if it should be part of the accoutrements of an English earl and that gave her pause. What kind of man was he really? She especially had to wonder after not finding any sort of nightshirt. That, too, was outrageously scandalizing—at least to her.

She walked back to the washstand and wet a cloth to place it on his burning forehead, then, using the razor, split his seams, unable to just destroy such fine clothing. She had just finished when a cabin boy quickly shoved her trunk into the room. She rolled her eyes. There was
a perfectly acceptable pair of scissors that would have made the job ever so much easier.

Next arrived the powders the doctor had promised. By the time she got the powder mixed with water and into him, her blouse was soaked. Since it had gone nearly transparent with the water, she decided to change. While she rummaged through her badly packed things, the earl called out for the woman named Mimm and someone named Meara.