Surrender To A Scoundrel (22 page)

She had other hopes, too, concerning him, but she would reveal those in due course.

As the night wore on, however, she did not have any such opportunities because he hadn’t even come. She worried that he didn’t wish to see her again. He had confided nothing to Sophia and James after all. He had been very circumspect about his trip abroad, his desires for the future, his feelings about her.

Sighing with a frustration she did not wish to
feel, she excused herself from the others and decided to go up on deck and look at the stars. Gathering her skirts in her hands, she slowly climbed to the upper deck and was thankful for the fresh, cool air once she got there. The orchestra below began to play one of her favorite pieces, and she strolled to the rail—the place she and Martin had stood once before. She leaned out and looked down at the dark water below. A fish jumped and caused a little splash, so she watched the shiny surface for another.

Then a presence loomed in the silence behind her.
“Evelyn.”

She recognized the voice immediately, and her body began to hum. Closing her eyes for a brief second to search for calm, she wet her lips and slowly turned.

There he was, her hero, looking as handsome as ever in his black-and-white formal attire, his dark, wavy hair curling around his collar in the most appealing way. He was a striking and beautiful man, that had not changed, and she still loved him with every breath of passion in her body. “Hello,” she said with a warm smile.

“Hello,” he replied, making his way closer, hands in pockets while his eyes took in her evening gown of white satin, embroidered in peach lovers’ knots, cut daringly low at the neckline. He even glanced down at her shoes of gilt leather with expensive jeweled toecaps.

“You look beautiful,” he said, and she smiled when she recognized the wonder in his eyes. She had definitely picked the right gown for to night.

He gazed at her appreciatively for another few seconds, then raised his eyebrows and let out a whistle, as if he couldn’t quite recover from the sight of her in this dress. It was just the response she had hoped for, and it sent shivers of delight down her spine.

“I heard you were here,” he said. “I was glad you decided to come.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Sauntering closer, he took another moment to gaze at her in the moonlight. “How are you?” he asked.

“I’m very well. And you?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Fine, I suppose. As you know, I have a race to win tomorrow.”

“Which I’m sure you
will
win,” she said, working hard to sound casual and blithe when in reality, her emotions were overwhelming her senses. “You’ll take the prize without any problem at all.”

He settled at the rail, only a few inches away, and her heart began to beat even faster still.

“You don’t think the
Endeavor II
will end my reign?” he asked.

Evelyn tried not to lose herself in the blue of his eyes, the sheer mightiness of his presence. He was a champion in every sense of the word, and nothing would ever change that.

“She doesn’t stand a chance. I know what kind of skill a race requires, and with Sheldon Hatfield at the wheel…” She puckered her lips. “Well, you know…”

“Yes, unfortunately I do.”

She turned and set her hands on the rail, and Martin did the same.

“But you must have heard,” he said, “that Hatfield’s first mate is an expert sailor, and he has everyone’s sympathies, having just lost his brother.”

She sighed. “I confess I did hear that, but my faith still lies with you.”

In more ways than one,
she thought.

They both turned to look down at the water below.

“It’s a long way down,” Martin said in a relaxed, but mischievous voice. She remembered he had spoken the same words on this very spot the last time.

“Yes,” she replied with a grin, “and I’ll have you know, we are standing on twenty-four-hundred tons of pure luxury.”

He chuckled with recollection, and she was glad he remembered everything, too.

“I’m relieved you are speaking to me, Evelyn,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He pondered it for a moment. “Because of the way we parted that last day. I was very selfish
the whole time, and I treated you appallingly.”

She was taken aback, for she had not expected him to bring up their trying past, at least not this early in the evening. “It wasn’t so bad,” she said.

“Yes, it was. I should never have entered into an affair with you when I knew I would only disappoint you in the end, which I did, quite brilliantly, I might add. I am sorry for that.”

She sucked in a breath. Was he telling her he regretted all of it? That if he could go back, he would never have made love to her in the first place?

“I’m not sorry,” she firmly said. “I had the best time of my life, and I learned that I am worth more than the amount of my fortune. I intend to find true happiness now, Martin, and I have you to thank for that. I would not change a thing.”

He looked at her in the moonlight. “Well, I suppose I must thank you for something, too. I assume you heard I was abroad?”

“Yes, I know you went to America, and that you only stepped off the ship four days ago.”

“That’s right, but do you know why I went?”

She had heard most of it from Sophia, but wanted very much to hear it from him. “Tell me.”

“I went because I had to revisit my old life.”

She placed her hand on top of his on the rail, then realized with the skip of a heartbeat that she was touching him, connecting with him. Not wanting to push for too much all at once, she withdrew her hand.

“I had to do it, Evelyn, because after we spent that week together, and I almost lost you to the sea, I just couldn’t
feel
anything anymore, and nothing had meaning for me or even the slightest pleasure, not even the things that used to amuse and distract me. So I left En gland and went back to visit their graves…Charlotte’s and Owen’s. I also went to see Charlotte’s family, and it was good for me. I learned that I can’t just ignore the past anymore. I am living with it now, and life feels more real. But it would not be this way if I hadn’t gone back there, and I certainly wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t spent that week with you and felt real joy for the first time in years.”

He faced the water again, but continued to explain. “I think the catalyst was something you said to me that final day, about learning to live with the loss but finding new joy. Those words stayed with me the whole time I was gone.”

Evelyn became aware of an easy contentment flooding through her. She had repaid him for his heroism and saved him, too, in her own way.

“I am glad you were able to do that,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

Just then, heels came clicking noisily up the stairs. “There you are!” her friend Penelope said, reaching the top and huffing with frustration. “I’ve been looking for you, Evelyn. And Lord Martin, you are next on my dance card.”

Evelyn and Martin shared a brief, amused glance.

Oh, Penelope,
she thought. Her old friend needed a few lessons in subtlety.

He bowed slightly at the waist and spoke with his renowned charm. “Mrs. Wheaton, if you will excuse me?”

“Of course,” she said with a smile, feeling wonderfully invigorated after their conversation and confidently hopeful for more special moments just like this. For her fight had really only just begun.

He strode to Penelope and offered his arm. “Shall we dance, Mrs. Richardson?”

“Oh, yes!” she replied, allowing him to escort her down the companionway.

Evelyn remained on the upper deck a few more minutes, then retrieved her dance card. She supposed it was time to go below and fulfill her own obligations—and interestingly enough, the final dance of the evening belonged to Martin’s rival, the sixth Earl Breckinridge. She wondered with great curiosity what kind of man he was and if he was anything like his late brother. It appeared she was about to find out. Perhaps it would give her some insight about what to expect once the race began at noon tomorrow.

M
artin and Spence entered the hotel dining room for breakfast the next morning to meet James. They perused the room and spotted him by a window, having already secured a table. He was sitting with a cup of steaming coffee in front of him, reading the newspaper. They approached the table and sat down, and a server arrived to pour their coffee.

James folded the paper and set it aside. “You both had a good night’s sleep I presume? I certainly don’t want to hear later today that you were both yawning during the race before you even reached the halfway mark.”

“No worries there,” Spence said, laughing softly.
“I dragged your brother back to the hotel last night before our opponents even began waltzing.”

“And yet you still look exhausted,” James said, eyeing Martin, who picked up the steaming cup of black coffee and touched it carefully to his lips.

“The truth is, I didn’t sleep well at all,” he said. “I tossed and turned all night.”

“Why?” James asked. “You weren’t thinking of the tempting little flower in the white satin gown, were you?”

Martin sighed. “You know me too well, James.”

“Then why don’t you do something about it?” Spence suggested.

“I can’t. At least not now. I have this race to worry about.”

“You know, we really don’t need that trophy,” Spence said in a quieter voice. “We could tell Hatfield to go shove his precious
Endeavor
right up his fat—”

James chuckled and held up a hand. “Now, now.”

“It has nothing to do with the trophy,” Martin said, leaning closer. “It is my honor I must defend. Whether I win or lose doesn’t matter so much, but I certainly can’t bow out. I must prove I was never afraid to face the
Endeavor
.”

Who should enter the dining room just then, but Lord Breckinridge and Mr. Hatfield, who paused at the door waiting to be seated. Breckin
ridge met Martin’s gaze and immediately crossed the room to their table. “Good luck to you today, Lord Martin.”

“Good luck to you as well,” Martin replied, then they shook hands, and the earl bowed to James. “Your Grace.”

“Breckinridge,” he coolly replied.

The earl headed for a table on the other side of the room, and Martin glanced over his shoulder to see Hatfield on his way to the same table. The man raised a bushy eyebrow and smiled arrogantly.

As soon as they were seated, Spence leaned forward and whispered, “What the blazes was that? Are they trying to intimidate us? Damned ungentlemanly behavior if you ask me.”

Martin shook his head. “Don’t let it get to you, Spence.”

“I suppose I should tell you,” James said, leaning forward slightly as well, “that the earl danced with your lovely widow last night at the ball after you were gone.”

Martin set down his cup with a
thunk
. “I beg your pardon?”

“He danced with her,” James repeated.

“I heard you the first time.” He turned around to glance over at their table. “He hasn’t set his cap for her, has he?”

“Who knows?” James replied. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he has. She’s a catch to be sure
with all that money—and a delightful smile and intelligence on top of it. She even knows how to sail, thanks to you.” James glanced at the earl and took in his overall appearance. “He’s a young, active man in his prime, in need of an heir or two or three. Why wouldn’t he be sniffing around her lovely skirts?”

“Dammit, James.”

Spence was chewing his lip, looking on with apprehension.

“What?”
James asked, as if he were being wrongly accused of something. “I will not apologize for pointing out the fact that all you’re doing is tossing and turning in your bed when your perfect match is in danger of getting snapped up by some other man who is more than willing to enter the race without hesitation.”

“I’ve only been back in the country four days,” Martin replied. “Give me a bloody chance to get my bearings.”

James picked up his coffee and took another sip. “Well, you better hurry up. The starting gun has already fired, and you appear to be trailing behind.”

By noon, a magnificent crowd had gathered on the Green, and there was an almost tangible excitement in the air. Evelyn sat on a blanket on the grass with Penelope and the Radleys, while out on the water, fifteen or more yachts were sailing
in circles in a mad state of chaos, waiting for the race committee to signal the countdown to start.

The goal for each boat—Sir Lyndon had explained to her that morning—was to cross the starting line at full speed just as the cannon fired. Consequently, they were all zigzagging around in an effort to secure the best position for precisely the right moment.

Then,
boom
! The cannon fired, and all the boats fell gracefully into line, heading westward toward the first mark, miles away.

Parasol in hand, Evelyn stood. Martin was out in front, skillfully moving ahead of all the rest, leading the fleet. She felt a wave of satisfaction and smiled, then said a silent prayer that he would remain in the lead position and that it would be an easy triumph.

An hour before the race began, Martin had studied the currents, he’d watched the shifts in the wind’s direction and velocity, and practiced a few maneuvers with his crew. But by the time the gun fired, all he could think about was what James had said in the hotel dining room—that he was trailing behind where Evelyn was concerned.

He decided at that moment that he was not going to lose today. He was going to win—both the Cowes trophy and Evelyn’s heart. And it wasn’t just his competitive nature rising up for a new conquest because of the way James had taunted
him at breakfast. After seeing her again last night, Martin knew what he wanted. He’d known it the minute he’d laid eyes on her. She was the only woman for him, there was no way around it, and he could not last another day without her. They’d been apart too long as it was, and he loved her. Yes. There it was. He loved her. And by God, he would have her.

Thankfully, everything was unfolding as it should today, at least in regard to
this
race. He was not trailing behind. His crew was relaxed and motivated, Spence was feeding him information about the wave conditions and the distances of the boats astern. On top of all that, the sun was shining brightly overhead, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

He closed his eyes, breathed in the fresh, salty sea air, felt the wind on his face and the tug of the wheel in his hands. Opening his eyes, he called out,
“Ready to tack!”

His crew had been kneeling in a row on the port side, and as soon as they heard his command, they moved into position.

“Coming about!” He turned the
Orpheus
into the wind, putting the rudder hard over to the leeward side.

Martin ducked as the boom swung across. The crew released and trimmed the jib and main, then switched to the windward side, kneeling in a row again, awaiting his next command.

“Well done!”

He turned around and saw the other boats spreading out across the miles at a distance behind him, including the
Endeavor II,
with Hatfield at the helm. Facing forward again, he smiled at Spence, who was standing at the bow, nodding confidently at him.

An hour later, the
Orpheus
was approaching the halfway mark to turn. Martin looked back at the
Endeavor II
not far behind.

Presently—because he was on the inside of the turn—he had the right of way, and hoped that with Hatfield in charge, they would not disregard the rules of the race.

He glanced at Spence and saw that he, too, was watching the
Endeavor II
with concern.

“Thirty seconds!” Martin called out.

He continued on, approaching the mark, waiting for the right moment to swing the boat around.

The
Endeavor II
was directly behind them now. Would they overtake them before they reached the mark and seize the inside position?

“Ready, gentlemen!” he shouted. He checked over his shoulder. The other boat was approaching on the inside…“Ready…” he said, as their bowsprit reached the mark.
“Coming about!”

He turned the wheel. His crew spread out across the boat.

At that precise instant, however, angry shouting erupted on the
Endeavor II
behind them. Martin and Spence looked back. Their opponent was turning short of the mark!

“Damn them!”
Spence shouted, watching the
Endeavor II
cheat the rules. But as quickly as she turned, she swung around again, a full 360 degrees. Hatfield and his first mate were fighting for control of the wheel.

The
Orpheus
rounded the mark perfectly, the crew trimmed the sails for the new direction and let out the spinnaker, and as soon as that was done, they all stood on the deck staring back at the
Endeavor II
.

She was still turning in a circle and appeared to be getting caught in irons, stuck stationary in the no-sail zone, while Hatfield and Breckinridge fought over control. They were shouting heatedly at each other while the crew was scrambling about, struggling with their flapping sails.

Martin had the
Orpheus
on a straight starboard tack now, and the spinnaker was full of wind, driving them forward at a swift pace on the homeward run.

The other yachts were still on their initial reach toward the mark, gaining on the
Endeavor II,
which was stuck dead in the water. Young Breckinridge began calling out commands to the crew, who followed his instructions while Hatfield shouted profanities. The earl pushed hard upon the boom,
doing everything he could to get them moving again before the other boats overtook them. Soon, they were turning and making their way slowly around the mark, and the last thing Martin saw was Breckinridge shoving Sheldon out of the way and taking hold of the wheel.

From that moment on, Martin kept his attention focused on the wind and the waves, his eyes fixed on the finish line.

When the
Orpheus
came into view again, Evelyn, Penelope, and the Radleys left their spot on the grass and ran down to the beach to watch the final minutes of the race.

Martin was in the lead, but the
Endeavor II
was not far behind. Their spinnakers were puffed out like balloons, and they were both sailing on a fast port tack.

“She’s gaining,” Lord Radley said, lifting his binoculars. “My word, they’re moving fast.”

Evelyn stepped forward all the way to the water’s edge until her toes touched the waves. She was barely aware of it, however, for she couldn’t take her eyes off the two yachts, both sailing at a swift clip toward the finish line. It was going to be close. They were almost side by side…