The Perfect Wife Read online

  He bestowed what could only be called a condescending smirk. “As your daughter is about to marry my son, I consider that you as well are becoming a member of my family. And as the head of the family, I’m afraid I simply cannot permit you to depart London with only your vague assertion that your purpose is private.”

  His words did not completely shatter her self-control. Sabrina was well used to restraint, to dealing with the inherent arrogance of the male of the species, and to doing just as she wished. She had hidden her emotions behind a composed facade for years, polishing that skill to a high-gloss finish. A finish Wyldewood’s comments had marred with only a small nick, the merest scratch, a tiny crack; nothing Sabrina could not handle. She drew a deep breath.

  “Lord Wyldewood, while I am truly grateful for your consideration, you must understand, I have been without my late husband for thirteen years. In that time I have lived an independent life without benefit of, what was the term you used? Oh yes.” She flashed him yet another practiced smile. “Male guidance. And even you must admit, I have succeeded in handling my affairs quite successfully. So, while your concern is appreciated, it is also misplaced.”

  She took his elbow and escorted him toward the door. “I fear my time is extremely limited today. I am set to sail within the hour so—”

  “No!” Wyldewood interrupted, halting their forward progress and glaring at her with annoyance. “I am afraid you do not understand. I have no intention of allowing you to sail with or without an appropriate explanation.”

  “Really?” Sabrina stared at him pleasantly. “I believe you have very little choice in the matter.”

  A myriad of expressions played across his face, and Sabrina’s irritation turned to smug satisfaction. He had no legitimate control over her actions, no legal rights, and his moral obligation was vague to say the least. Whether he liked it or not, there was nothing he could do to stop her.

  “In that case—” His dark eyes smoldered, and a trickle of delicious fear shivered through Sabrina. “I shall simply have to accompany you.”

  “What?” Sabrina blurted. “I hardly think—I can’t believe—” What on earth was he proposing? She couldn’t possibly take him along. It simply would not work. This trip would take months. Months of being together every day, on board ship and in the desert. Could she possibly be around him day after day without revealing her true self, her real feelings? More to the point, could she resist the unexpected temptation this man held?

  Her eyes widened with the impact of the questions hurtling through her head, and she stared. Wyldewood looked for all the world like a fox who’d successfully raided the henhouse; confident, satisfied, and, God help her, triumphant. Few people knew Sabrina well enough to know this was not a wise attitude for him to adopt and was guaranteed to inflame her anger, charge her spirit, and increase her determination. She composed herself, favored him with her sweetest look, and savored the indecision and doubt that flickered across his face in response.

  “Very well then. It’s time to leave.” She nodded and stepped briskly toward the door, leaving him to trail in her wake.

  “Wait!” he called in a voice well used to issuing commands, a voice used to being obeyed without question.

  Sabrina paused and tossed him a glance over her shoulder. “Is there a problem?”

  “A problem? Of course there’s a problem! I cannot be expected to go traipsing off on some ill-advised voyage without a moment’s notice!”

  Sabrina turned and cast him the same patient look she would give a cranky child. “Lord Wyldewood, I do not expect you to go anywhere at all. I do not expect you to accompany me on this trip or anywhere else. I expect you to climb back into your carriage and return to your comfortable home. I further expect you to tell my daughter, and your son for that matter, that I am a responsible adult, fully capable of handling my own affairs. And lastly, I expect you to understand that regardless of who marries whom, I shall be a member of your family by the tenuous bonds of marriage only.”

  She took a deep breath and stared him straight in his bottomless eyes. “And to me, that means you have absolutely no right to tell me what I may and may not do.” She nodded pleasantly and stepped into the foyer. Wills stood with her traveling case in hand.

  “Very well,” Wyldewood said calmly, one step behind her. She turned and gazed up at him. A fist knotted deep in her stomach at the gleam in his eye and the expression on his face. It was the look of a man who had just accepted a challenge. A look, God help her, of a man confident of victory. “I believe we should be off if we are to sail on time.”

  Sabrina refused to show her dismay, struggling to maintain a pleasant, aloof expression. Especially when she noted Wills still holding the portmanteau and realized the men’s clothes she’d waited so long to wear again would have to wait much, much longer.

  “Wills, please give my bag to Lord Wyldewood. He will be accompanying me.” Wills’s lips quirked at the corners, and amusement flashed through his eyes so swiftly, Sabrina alone noticed. Her back to Wyldewood, she shot the butler a quick scowl. “Take care of everything while I’m gone. I shall post a letter to Belinda as soon as possible.”

  It was not the goodbye she’d imagined, but with this intruder along, it was the best she could do.

  “Wills.” Sabrina nodded at her old friend and breezed out the door with an air of confidence, determined not to let Wyldewood’s presence affect her quest.

  “Wills,” Wyldewood echoed, and followed close behind. He assisted her into his town carriage and directed his driver to the docks.

  Wyldewood settled in next to Sabrina, and she glanced at his firm, strong profile. His face gave no indication of his thoughts. Was he irritated? Annoyed? At least inconvenienced? She certainly hoped so. It would serve him right. She was definitely irritated, annoyed, and inconvenienced enough for the both of them. This was not the adventure she’d envisioned, Sabrina thought with a mental huff, and leaned back in the cushioned seat.

  The carriage rolled forward, and Sabrina gazed at the upstairs window of Belinda’s room. Her daughter stood behind the glass, holding back the curtains. Sabrina lifted a hand in farewell. Without acknowledgment, the figure at the window let the curtains fall back into place. A lance of pain pierced Sabrina, and she blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes. She thrust the ache and accompanying guilt away and resolved not to dwell on thoughts of Belinda. She was, after all, doing this for her daughter, to ensure her future.

  Wasn’t she?

  What was this woman up to? Nicholas wondered, studying her lovely face. Her expression was serene now, but he hadn’t missed the anguish that touched her lovely features when she’d looked at her daughter’s window. What was so important it would take this woman away from the child who obviously meant so much to her? Envy stabbed through him, followed by momentary remorse. What would it be like to care for one’s child that much?

  Of course he was fond of Erick, even loved him in the reserved way a proper parent should. He simply hadn’t been around him much. Hadn’t watched him grow up, and if the truth were told, didn’t know his son at all. More and more these days, Nicholas was surprised to note he regretted that. Regretted that the only reason he and Erick got along better than he and his own father had was that they were practically strangers.

  Still, Erick was a good son, a good man. Nicholas could leave his affairs in his heir’s hands with confidence and made a mental note to send word to Erick as to his unexpected journey the moment they reached the docks. Why, in the two years since Nicholas’s return to En gland, the boy had given him no cause for concern. He’d selected a more than acceptable bride. He hadn’t inconvenienced him at all. Erick treated him with respect and never asked for anything in return.

  Except this. This request to talk to Lady Stanford. And look where it had brought him. Off on a voyage to who knew where with a glorious woman who obviously had far more spirit to her than he had first imagined. He wondered if his initial impression was correct af
ter all. If indeed there was more to her than she let on. Nicholas smiled to himself and settled deeper in the carriage seat. There would be time enough to find out. Time enough to ferret out the secrets of the future Countess of Wyldewood.

  He would have to remember to thank Erick for this intriguing opportunity. Even though he was really doing all this for his son, to make up for the past.

  Wasn’t he?

  Sabrina swept up the gangplank well in advance of Lord Wyldewood. During the ride to the docks, she’d decided she would be pleasant and polite to him, but no more. Neither would she tell him their eventual destination or the ultimate purpose of the trip. The decision brought her a small measure of satisfaction. If he wanted answers, let him figure them out.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Wyldewood was still engaged in conversation with his carriage driver, no doubt giving the poor man the benefit of all that male guidance. The phrase still grated in her mind. At least his extended discussion gave her the chance she needed to board the ship before he did.

  “Lady Bree!”

  Sabrina whirled about at the enthusiastic cry.

  “Simon!” She clasped the American’s hands in hers. The seaman appeared tall and robust, in spite of the gray mingling with the sun streaks in his light auburn hair. His eyes sparkled in greeting.

  “Welcome to the Lady B.”

  “Simon, how wonderful! I was very much afraid, after all these years, there would be no one I knew in the crew.” She cocked her head and surveyed him critically. “And still as handsome as ever, I see.”

  Simon MacGregor threw his head back and laughed. “It’s good to see you’ve not changed. Not your saucy tongue nor your pretty face. It’s good to see you, lass.”

  “Scarcely a lass anymore.”

  He grinned. “Always a lass in my eyes.”

  Sabrina narrowed her eyes in teasing speculation. “The last time I saw you, you were going to give up the sea and go home to your wife and all those children, in Maine, I believe. You were going to become a fisherman.”

  The big man shrugged and his eyes twinkled. “By the time I got around to it, the young’uns were nearly grown. And the wife decided she liked being married to me a whole lot more when I weren’t around than when I was. Seeing her a couple of times a year seems to make both of us a sight happier than being together all the time.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “You really haven’t changed.” Her gaze skimmed the rest of the ship and the crew. She craned her neck to see around him. “Is Matt here?”

  “The cap’n had business to see to in Paris. We’re to pick him up in a few weeks in Marseilles.”

  “Oh dear.” She drew her brows together in disappointment.

  “But don’t you worry none. He’d be more than happy to know you were on board. He always said, if you ever had need of it, you could consider this ship your own.”

  “Mine?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Simon grinned. “The cap’n’s talked of you a lot through the years. Always said he’d see you again someday.” Simon leaned low, his words soft against her ear. “He named this ship the Lady B, you know.”

  “I noticed,” she said wryly.

  “It’s an honor.” His gruff tone chastised her.

  “I know that and I am truly honored but…” She glanced behind her. Wyldewood was still on the dock, now talking to a member of the ship’s crew. She didn’t have much time. Sabrina nodded toward the wharf. “I have someone traveling with me.”

  Simon’s eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t hear you’d gotten yourself a new husband.” A distressed frown drew his sandy brows together. “Wills should have mentioned that to me when he arranged your passage. I daresay the cap’n won’t be none too pleased about this. Ah, well, nothing to be done about it, I suppose.”

  “I am most definitely not married,” she said sharply. Shock colored his face, and she could clearly read his thoughts. “Don’t you even think that, Simon. Lord Wyldewood is accompanying me through no fault of my own. Believe me, I didn’t want the man along, but I appear to be trapped for the time being. Is there a cabin you can put him in?”

  Simon directed his words to her, but his thoughtful gaze lingered on Wyldewood standing on the dock. “We’ve got several passenger cabins. The cap’n was thinking of making this ship strictly for the transport of people. There’s room for him.” He studied Wyldewood for a long, silent second. “Do you want me to throw him overboard once we get to sea?”

  “Good Lord, no.” She glanced at Wyldewood and shook her head. “At least not right away.”

  Simon offered her a broad smile in return. “But I gather it would be acceptable if we made his voyage a wee bit uncomfortable. He’s a tall, broad man, and I’ve a cabin that will suit him. If he’s not too particular about standing upright.”

  Sabrina laughed. “It sounds perfect. Simon, the way I feel about that gentleman right now, making his life uncomfortable is more than acceptable, it’s positively delightful.”

  Wyldewood strode up the gangplank. Sabrina realized she still hadn’t warned Simon. “He knows nothing about my past and he mustn’t find out. And if I am somewhat more reserved than I used to be, especially around him, please don’t comment on it.”

  Simon eyed her quizzically but said nothing. She would have some explaining to do to Simon and later to his captain. She wondered how long it would be before Wyldewood too insisted on explanations. He drew nearer, and Sabrina sighed in resignation.

  Perhaps it would be easier to have him thrown overboard after all.

  Nicholas’s gaze scanned the ship and settled on Lady Stanford, earnestly talking to a hardy sailor. The woman was an enigma. He’d learned the eventual destination of the ship was Alexandria. What kind of business could she possibly have in Egypt?

  “Welcome aboard, my lord,” the big man greeted him, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Nicholas narrowed his eyes slightly. Good Lord, the man was American. He glanced upward at the mainmast and tightened the muscles of his jaw at the sight of the flag fluttering in the breeze. The whole damn ship was American. That woman had condemned him to weeks aboard an American ship, surrounded day and night by bloody Americans. Nicholas liked Americans only slightly more than he liked the French. And he was not fond of the French.

  Nicholas gritted his teeth and forced his diplomatic skills to the surface. It would not do to alienate this crew. He already suspected he would have a difficult enough time with Lady Stanford. Nicholas bestowed what he thought was a pleasant enough smile on the ruddy sailor. “Good day. Magnificent ship.” He nodded his approval.

  “Aye, the Lady B’s as fine a craft as you’ll ever see.” The seaman’s pride in his vessel was obvious.

  “Interesting name,” Nicholas said thoughtfully, a vague familiarity nagging at the back of his mind. “Is she named for anyone in particular?”

  The mate’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and he smirked in an oddly satisfied way. Nicholas glanced at Lady Stanford. Was that a glimmer of alarm that flashed through her eyes? No, surely not. Her unruffled gaze caught his, and she smiled vacantly. He must have been mistaken. He seemed to be mistaken about her more often than not.

  The American crossed his arms, and his gaze flickered over Nicholas in an assessing and damn impertinent manner. Nicholas struggled to keep his expression friendly and interested.

  “The ship’s named for someone near and dear to the captain’s heart,” the sailor said. “In truth, she was a sister to him. A wonderful lady she was too. Brave and loyal and true, with a spirit and fire you don’t see often in the fairer sex.” He sighed dramatically. “But she’s gone now. Cut down in the prime of life. It was a waste and a shame.”

  The story caught Nicholas’s curiosity in spite of himself. “How did she die?”

  “Oh no, sir.” The big man shook his head regretfully. “She didn’t die. Might have been better all around if she had. No, she was scarce more than a girl when the weight of the world settled on her shoulders.
Poor lass couldn’t take it.” He paused to let the full impact of his words sink in and rolled his eyes heavenward. “She joined a convent, she did. Became a nun. Sister B’s what they call her now.” He shrugged in an exaggerated gesture of disbelief. “And the woman weren’t even Catholic.”

  A strangled gasp came from the direction of Lady Stanford, and Nicholas turned toward her. Her face flushed crimson, and she struggled to catch her breath between fits of coughing. Nicholas lunged toward her and clasped her arms.

  “Lady Stanford, are you quite all right?” His anxious gaze searched her face. A few errant tears coursed down her cheeks.

  “I’m fine,” she choked. “Just very moved.”

  Nicholas stared sharply at her expression of complete innocence. If he didn’t know better, he would think the woman was on the verge of losing a battle with unbridled laughter. Was there something humorous about that story he hadn’t understood? It was a little odd, but he saw nothing of humor in it.

  Lady Stanford glanced pointedly at his hands still gripping her arms. “Thank you for your concern, but I really am quite recovered.” Nicholas’s gaze followed hers, and reluctantly he released her. “I should like to go to my cabin now, Mr. MacGregor, if I may?”

  “Of course, ma’am.” The sailor’s eyes twinkled at Lady Stanford, and Nicholas could have sworn a silent message passed between them.

  Lady Stanford nodded in Nicholas’s direction. “Lord Wyldewood, I have never taken well to sea travel, so I do not expect to see much of you on this voyage, at least for a while.”

  “Oh?” Nicholas raised a brow. “I find that surprising. I had the distinct impression from the manner in which you came on board that you are very much at home on a ship.”

  She laughed lightly. “Well, my lord, impressions can be deceiving. You should not place much stock in them.” She turned, took Simon’s arm, and the couple stepped quickly down the deck.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” he said to himself. “Impressions can be deceiving. But make no mistake, my lovely lady, I shall find out what you’re up to.” He stared after her thoughtfully. “And what you’re hiding.”