Marrying Christopher (31 page)

“Actually,” Miss Cosgrove cut in, “I was hoping you would walk with me, Mr. Thatcher. You’re much taller and will be good for me to lean upon, should the need arise.”

“I am afraid that will be quite impossible.” Christopher tried not to sound too smug. He had not considered the immediate benefits of his betrothal, but this one he intended to make use of at once. “I’m afraid that it would not be appropriate for me to walk with you when I am betrothed to another woman.”

“
Betrothed
.” Miss Cosgrove’s mouth opened nearly as wide as some of the pelicans he had viewed at the Liverpool docks.

“Miss Abbott and I are to marry before the end of our voyage.”

“It was a very sudden decision— arrived at just last night,” Marsali added in a tone likely meant to soften any hurt Miss Cosgrove might feel. “Mr. Thatcher is marrying me to keep me safe from Mr. Thomas, the man my sister warned me about and the one to whom I am indentured. You’ll remember her letter?”

Miss Cosgrove nodded and managed to close her mouth.

“I am marrying you because I wish to.” Christopher placed his hand over Marsali’s on the table. The urgency of her situation may have prodded him down this path, but he now embraced it wholeheartedly. To arrive on America’s shores, not alone as he had imagined but with someone at his side, with whom he might build a life, was now infinitely appealing— on many counts. That this someone would be Marsali filled him with a joy he had not anticipated. No longer did the actions of his brothers-in-law seem so absurd or shameful. If anything, Christopher felt his behavior had been shameful, silently ridiculing them as he had. Really, they had been confident and mature enough to show their affection for his sisters, the women they loved.

He sought that same confidence and maturity now as he leaned closer, brushing an imagined crumb from the corner of Marsali’s mouth. “Remember my policy never to do anything that I do not wish. I
wish
to marry you.”

“You make it impossible to forget.” Her gaze flickered to his lips as she wet her own. She turned her hand beneath his and entwined their fingers together.

A look of great consternation had crossed over Miss Cosgrove’s face as she witnessed this exchange. Christopher could see that she was wrestling with her feelings, and he recalled suddenly what Marsali had told him weeks ago— that Miss Cosgrove fancied him, though she herself was engaged to be married.

“You are to be married
here
, on the ship, before we reach America?” she asked, looking from one to the other.

“That is what the plan is, yes.” Captain Gower’s door opened, and he stepped into the saloon and took his place at the head of the table. Before this morning he had never been late to a meal, that Christopher could recall.

“If Miss Abbott is not married before meeting up with Mr. Thomas, it is not likely to happen,” Captain Gower said. He directed his attention to Christopher and Marsali. “However, I am afraid the situation is not as simple as I believed it to be. While it is clearly in my authority while on this ship to do as I see fit regarding matters of importance— including marriage— having that authority recognized elsewhere may prove a difficulty.” He dished porridge into his bowl and began spooning sugar over it.

“If it will not be recognized, then why go through with it?” Miss Cosgrove asked. “Why—”

“Because I believe we still have a good chance of pulling this off,” Captain Gower said, cutting her off before she could entirely launch into a monologue of questions. “I must ask you to please enjoy your breakfast, Miss Cosgrove, and allow me to speak. There is much that needs to be decided, and Miss Abbott and Mr. Thatcher have little time in which to make those decisions.”

Christopher and Marsali exchanged an uneasy glance. He wished he knew what she was thinking.

“I’ve been reading up on American law this morning,” Captain Gower said. “It is vastly important that you are recorded as a married couple before you leave for Virginia. New York recognizes common-law marriages, which is what yours shall be, as I am not authorized clergy, as there were no banns posted, and all of that. New York will recognize your marriage, but Virginia will not— unless, possibly, it is initially recorded in another state.”

“Does that mean that Mr. Thomas will not believe us to be married?” Marsali asked, coming to the same conclusion Christopher had.

“It is possible,” Captain Gower said. “But you must remember, Thomas is a businessman, first and foremost. In essence, I am offering him a gift in you, Mr. Thatcher. I have to believe that the offer of your free labor for a period of two years will be difficult for him to refuse. No doubt, Miss Abbott, you are a valuable commodity as a lady’s maid, but Mr. Thatcher’s ability to labor will be far beyond yours, and if Thomas is half as intelligent as I have known him to be, he will see what a bargain he will be getting.”

“This isn’t right,” Marsali said anxiously. Hair had escaped her bun— a frequent occurrence, Christopher had noted— and she began winding the strands around her finger as she worried her lip. He had not seen her doing either of these things since the day she’d first read her sister’s letter, and he attributed the habits to the seriousness of her concerns.

“I cannot allow you to go through with this.” She tipped her face up to his, and he read the agony in her eyes.

“You already told me yes,” he reminded her gently. “It would be most unkind of you to withdraw from our agreement now.”

“Do not lose hope as of yet,” Captain Gower advised. “I have one other idea in addition to having your marriage recorded when we arrive. It is likely that Mr. Thomas will not be there to greet us in port, as we are arriving a full two days earlier than expected. If that is our good fortune, I suggest you use that time to seek out an official clergyman and have a second ceremony. That way there could be no question as to the validity of your marriage.”

“Thank you for the suggestions, Captain.” Christopher planned to take both of them, though he worried whether the two pounds in his possession would be enough for the license and any other fees associated with a marriage ceremony.

“In the meantime, I am ready when you are to perform your shipboard wedding.”

“After breakfast will be fine,” Christopher said, giving Marsali’s hand a gentle squeeze. He could not allow her to change her mind. Last night had been the best sleep he’d had since learning of what awaited her in America.

“Having your wedding after breakfast will not be
fine
.” Miss Cosgrove jumped back into the conversation with a voice that rose to an unnaturally high pitch. She slapped her palms on the table and stood, fixing a glare upon him.

“We did not mean to pain you, Lydia.” Marsali attempted to wriggle her fingers from his, but Christopher held them fast.

He could not allow regret— of any kind— to change her mind. He had never encouraged Miss Cosgrove’s attention, and if she had somehow misconstrued the forced kindness he had shown her, the wrongdoing was certainly not Marsali’s.

“
I
am not the one who will be pained by this,” Miss Cosgrove said, astonishing him— and Marsali, too, given the look on her face.

“It will be you who is pained, Marsali, with this rushed, shipboard ceremony.” Miss Cosgrove’s eyes narrowed on Christopher once more. “You are speaking of a wedding, a most sacred event, one many girls dream of their entire lives. Marsali needs a special gown. She ought to have a church and someone to give her away. She should have a posy of flowers. And
after breakfast
will never do. Do you not know that there should
be
a breakfast following the wedding?”

“Miss Cosgrove, perhaps you are unaware that the circumstances are somewhat different than usual,” Captain Gower said patiently. “It came to Mr. Thatcher’s attention near the start of our voyage that Miss Abbott’s life could very well be in danger when she reaches America and joins her new employer. A rushed marriage is her best chance at protection.”

“There need be no special preparations,” Marsali concurred, rather sensibly, Christopher thought, though he heard the faintest hint of wistfulness in her voice and caught a glimpse of stoic bravery in her smile.

“Nonsense.” In a huff of skirts and petticoats, Miss Cosgrove removed herself from the bench and her untouched breakfast. “Mr. Thatcher, if you care for Marsali as much as you profess, will you not then see that she has a proper wedding?”

“I care for her a great deal,” Christopher said. “Your definition of proper merely differs from ours.”
Or mine.
Marsali was looking down at her lap, and her features had taken on a definite expression of melancholy.

“I beg of you to consider your bride in this.” Miss Cosgrove clasped her hands before her as if preparing to offer a most earnest prayer. “You simply cannot marry this morning. Marsali must at least have enough time to get a proper dress ready. She cannot wear that to her wedding.”

Marsali flinched. “I haven’t any gowns better than this. It is my best, and I wore it purposely this morning.”

“There. You see. All is well.” Christopher attempted to steer the conversation away from the subject causing his fiancée discomfort. Along with new hair ribbons, he would buy her a new gown as well. Soon. Somehow. “We have what is most important— each other and one with the authority to marry us.” He had the ring from Grandfather as well, but he did not wish Marsali to know it just yet. It would be nice to surprise her with something of meaning.

“I must disagree.” Lady Cosgrove’s voice echoed the length of the saloon. She walked resolutely toward them, head held high, spine rigid. “My daughter is correct. Marriage of convenience or not, it should be done properly. I ought to know, having had two of them myself. Captain Gower, we shall help with the arrangements. It will give Lydia and me something to do these last miserable days aboard your ship.”

Captain Gower’s lips pressed together in a flat line. No doubt he was offended at hearing the words
miserable
and
your ship
in the same sentence. “My lady, you do not realize what an easy, pleasant voyage we have enjoyed. I pray it will continue a few days more, and I beg of you— when you speak to others of your crossing on the
Amanda May
— that you do so in a complimentary matter. The crew, and even the passengers—“ the captain’s gaze flitted to Marsali— “have done all they can to ensure your comfort on this voyage. And of course, we shall happily indulge your wishes once more. Do what you will with regard to a wardrobe for Miss Abbott. I shall perform the wedding
tomorrow
morning, and we shall breakfast after. I shall request that Mr. Tenney and his staff prepare something special for the occasion. Is that satisfactory to all here?”

“Oh yes. It’s perfect.” Miss Cosgrove flung her hands wide and, in her excitement, knocked over her teacup, sending tea splashing all over the front of Lady Cosgrove’s gown.

“Lydia!” she screeched. “Look what you’ve done. Will you never learn to control yourself? Even Miss Abbott’s behavior is more civilized— little wonder it was she and not you who was able to attract Mr. Thatcher’s interest.”

At this Miss Cosgrove burst into tears and ran past her mother, down the length of the saloon, and into her cabin. Awkward silence descended upon the room.

“That was entirely unnecessary,” Christopher said, not much caring what Lady Cosgrove thought of him or his opinions. He held very little regard for hers.

Captain Gower cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“You oughtn’t have been so hard on Lydia,” Marsali added. “She meant well and was only showing her enthusiasm.” Sighing heavily, Marsali turned her gaze on Christopher. “And she
did
fancy you.”

“But I did not encourage her,” Christopher said defensively, wondering how it was that he had earned a reprimand. He had not spilled the tea or exhibited an inappropriate display of emotion, as he felt both mother and daughter had done. “Is Miss Cosgrove herself not betrothed, to this Mr. Vancer she is forever speaking of?”

“She is, but she will not be much longer if she does not learn to exhibit a bit of decorum,” Lady Cosgrove said. “Lydia is
always
showing her enthusiasm, and it is high time she learned to control herself and to curb her tongue. If she continues to act like she has on this ship, I fear Mr. Vancer will soon send us packing.”

“Lydia has fears too,” Marsali said. “She is afraid of marriage. Can you not find it in you to comfort her?”

Lady Cosgrove’s spine stiffened even more, were that possible. She stood rigidly, the only part of her not perfectly straight being the slope of her nose, from which she stared down at them.

“The only thing that would comfort her would be a change in our situation— an improbability at best. No one comforted me when I lost each of my husbands and had to fend for myself. Lydia must learn to do the same. All women must if they are to survive in this world.”

Fending for oneself need not be synonymous with unkindness
,
Christopher thought.
Marsali was proof of that. But he held his tongue, not wishing to cause any more problems between the women, especially not when Lady Cosgrove had offered to help Marsali with a gown to be married in.

“Now, are you going to accompany me or not?” Lady Cosgrove demanded. “We’ve but one day, and I am not a seamstress.”

“I am,” Marsali said, surprising Christopher.
How much I still do not know about her.
He was excited for each discovery that lay ahead.

“Go,” he said, leaning into her, nudging her with his shoulder. Their hands were still entwined, and he withdrew his now, reluctant to end their touch but wanting her to have as much happiness as possible at their wedding. He did care for her and wanted to make everything about their day as good as it could be. His sisters would be disappointed in him if they learned he had not.

“Are you certain you do not mind waiting until tomorrow?” she asked.

“I would wait much longer to be with you.”

She reached up, touching his cheek. “Thank you. But if you change your mind before then, I shall understand entirely.”