The word slipped out before William could even think of the consequences that such a declaration would cause.
Miss Atwell stiffened beside him and let out a strangled squawk under her breath, which was most unladylike.
He cleared his throat, realizing too late what he had done. He glanced at Edmund, who joined them at the bulwark with Miss Lottie trailing after him. Edmund looked equal parts shocked and furious, but Miss Lottie blushed bright pink and her eyes rounded with surprise.
Miss Atwell turned as red as her hair, and after the initial shock faded from her eyes, her nose scrunched up.
William sensed she was about to give him quite the rebuke.
Edmund, despite his shock and apparent anger, reacted quickly and came to their rescue. "Lady Greyville, would you care to join me in a turn about the deck?" He grabbed Miss Atwell's arm and pulled her away as she began to protest.
Miss Palmer had grown pale and her lips pursed. "I must offer you my congratulations, Lord Greyville. How very . . . sudden." Her father nodded and raised an eyebrow disapprovingly.
William's mind was racing, desperately trying to invent a story to support his lie, his one chance at preserving his reputation and cover.
"Er, well . . . yes. We knew each other as children, you see, and we were quite fond of each other. We've written for years and fell in love. Her father, God rest his soul, grew ill suddenly, and it was his dying wish to see us married before his passing. It meant breaking with tradition, of course, but I have never been one for big weddings, after all." The lie came quickly and easily to his lips, but he glanced beyond Miss Palmer's head.
Miss Atwell glared at him over her shoulder at him with fury etched across her pretty face.
Oh, he was going to pay for this; he was sure of it. He just hoped he survived her tongue-lashing.
***
Fidelia's hands shook with anger. As if it weren't bad enough that she had been forced to flee her home and watch it burn, now that arrogant man was claiming her as his wife? She would not stand for such injustice.
She fled from the deck, his ridiculous lie ringing in her ears and paced in the mess hall, which was empty of people but full of ladies' things. Since the captain had let several straggling British citizens aboard before he set sail, the mess hall had been converted into a temporary sleeping shelter for the extra women.
She kicked a hat box across the room.
Lottie came through the door, smiling mischievously.
"What a handsome husband you have snagged yourself, Fidelia," Lottie said, tilting her head sweetly.
Fidelia gawked at her sister. "If I weren't so furious right now, I would scold you, you little scamp."
Lottie's grin widened. Fidelia turned away from her and rubbed her hand against her forehead. What was she going to do? Surely, no one would blame her if she threw that annoying Lord Greyville off the side of the ship, because at that moment, it was the only thing she could think of doing.
The door swung open again and Fidelia spun around, drawing her pistol to point it at the intruder. Lord Greyville held his hands up in a pacifying gesture as he entered the room. Mr. de Lacy was just behind him.
"Miss Atwell, allow me to explain—" William lunged forward mid-sentence and wrested the pistol from her hand before she could fire. Fidelia shouted in surprise, and tears of fury and exhaustion burned her eyes. Lord Greyville raised an eyebrow at her as he unloaded the gun while Mr. de Lacy closed the door behind them. "I apologize, but in your current state I feared you might shoot."
"Do not tempt me," Fidelia replied, holding his gaze before adding sarcastically, "husband."
Lord Greyville opened his mouth as if the word unnerved him before laughing uncomfortably. "Yes, I wish to speak to you about that—"
"So that was your plan all along? Come riding to our rescue and trick us into coming with you so you could claim an easy wife?" Fidelia planted her hands on her hips.
He snorted. "I certainly didn't plan this, Miss Atwell. I am a lord. I could have any debutante in England—"
"Then go find one of them to be your wife, because I certainly will not—"
"She's right, William," Mr. de Lacy joined in. "You are a lord with responsibilities. You should have said she was my wife."
"I beg your pardon? I am not any man's wife!" Fidelia turned her glare on Mr. de Lacy.
She did not have the patience for this, and she needed time to plan a way out of this mess. "Come, Lottie." She put an arm around her sister and led her to a spread of blankets. "If you will excuse us, gentlemen, we must retire for the night."
It was still early, but Fidelia looked at the two men, daring them to disagree.
Lord Greyville clenched his fist but nodded politely. Mr. de Lacy stared at Fidelia for several moments and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but the two men finally turned and left.
As the door closed, Fidelia let out the breath she'd been holding. "Lottie, get your things."
"What?" Lottie yawned.
"We are leaving," Fidelia said, gathering up blankets. "Tonight."
***
The other women finally returned, eyeing Fidelia and Lottie suspiciously. The sisters sat quietly on the bed they shared, their few possessions still packed. Miss Palmer gave them a friendly wave and Lottie brightened and rose as if to join her, but Fidelia pulled her sister down. She didn't want to stir up any excitement that would keep the other women awake any longer.
They waited another half hour. Lottie fell asleep with her head in Fidelia's lap. Finally, the last of the women stopped tossing and their soft snores filled the mess hall.
Quietly, Fidelia retrieved the few things she had packed and shook the sleepy Lottie awake. The cat, Puppy, yowled when Fidelia picked him up. He was still upset at her for the traumatic saddlebag ride he'd had earlier that day. Fidelia wrapped him in a blanket until only his head was exposed. She winced and held her breath as Puppy continued mewling, but the other women remained fast asleep.
If they were quiet, she, Lottie, and Puppy could escape on one of the dinghies and row back to the coast without anyone stopping them. Let Lord Greyville deal with the aftermath that his lies had caused. She was not going to be his wife, or anyone's, for that matter.
"Come on." She hauled Lottie to her feet and led her across the hall, pausing to open the door just a crack.
As she had suspected, the space beyond the door was empty, and the ship was almost silent except for the creaking wood. Lord Greyville and Mr. de Lacy must have retired to the crew's quarters where the men would be sleeping. Fidelia hoped so.
They crept along the hall and up the stairs to the deck unseen. Hushing Lottie's protests, Fidelia pulled her sister into the shadows near the railing and looked around the empty ship. Most of the crew had retired as well, and the few people that remained were on the higher deck. She could faintly hear them laughing and talking about their game of wagers.
"Fidelia, I can't swim. Why can't we stay with Lord Greyville and Mr. de Lacy?"
"Hush, Lottie." Fidelia cut off her sister's whisper with one of her own, pulling Lottie toward one of the dinghies. "We can't trust them."
"But—"
Fidelia ignored Lottie's protests as they reached the dinghy. They were so close. All she had to do was figure out how to get the boat over the bulwark and into the water without making a sound, and then they would be free. She yanked the cover off the dinghy and—
Her scream shattered the calm night air.
***
William jumped at Miss Atwell's scream. The woman had quite the set of lungs. He had been lying in wait for her in the dinghy with the blanket over his head, ready to catch them in their attempt to escape. He had to admit that he had thought it would be amusing to startle Miss Atwell and that they would be able to share a laugh over it. Her reaction surprised him.
Not quite as much as the cat, though.
Miss Atwell threw poor Puppy at him, and the creature came flying out of the blanket with claws extended, right onto William's face.
"Agh!" William shouted as the cat gripped his head with all four paws, clawing and scratching. He yanked the sorry creature from his head and it jumped out of his arms and into Miss Lottie's.
The crew from the upper deck came scrambling down the ladders, their pistols and swords drawn.
William got to his feet quickly to wave them off. "No need," he said, "It was a simple prank gone wrong, I assure you. My wife startles quite easily, I'm afraid."
Miss Atwell's face was purple with anger in the faint evening's light, an unfortunate color considering the hue of her hair.
William suddenly regretted his attempt at humor as he faced the woman. More of her hair had fallen loose from the old scarf she had tied it up in, and the way her eyes flashed in the moonlight made him once again recall tales of banshees. And to think this woman was now to be his wife. He shuddered at the thought. Still, there was a certain beauty to her frightening appearance.
"I thought you might try to run away."
"How did you know?" Miss Atwell asked, crossing her arms in annoyance.
"I seem to recall you were quite fond of boats as a child," William said, grinning at her.
When her father had replaced several old boards in the stable, she took them to make a raft for the large pond behind William's manor. It was the only time that the boys had begged to join her instead of the other way around. In her stubbornness, she had refused, of course.
Miss Atwell scowled and looked away.
Miss Lottie only smiled. "I think you two have much to discuss. I shall return to my bed," she said and left, taking poor Puppy with her.
They watched her descend the stairs before William turned back to Miss Atwell. "Honestly, Miss Atwell, where did you intend to go?"
"I was going to row us back to shore," she said, still not looking at him. She turned to gaze back toward the now-vanished coast.
"In a dinghy? All by yourself? At night? I knew you liked building boats, but I hadn't realized you were so adept at rowing, Miss Atwell. You have my utmost respect." William chuckled and gave her a mock bow.
"I would have made it. If only by the sheer strength of my will, I would have made it," she said. The note of sorrow in her voice softened William's heart, but only slightly.
"Surely you must know that you cannot return to America? Not with Le Coquin on the loose. Besides, we are miles from shore, and you would have gotten lost." William sighed and ran a hand over his short beard. "I do not care for our situation any more than you do, but I made your brother a promise that I intend to keep."
"By marrying me?" Miss Atwell challenged, still not looking up at him. William ducked his head to see her face better. Tears streaked her cheeks and exhaustion lined her face, but her jaw was set with stubbornness. Had it not been for that stubbornness, her distress combined with her striking beauty in the moonlight would have melted his heart—and the prospect of a life with her wouldn't have seemed so dreadful.
"Unfortunately, our options are limited. Le Coquin is a close friend of Napoleon, and you could be found anywhere you try to run. I have the resources to protect you and Miss Lottie, but I have certain . . . conditions that must be considered. The only way to protect all of our reputations is by marriage."
"To an American? We are at war, Lord Greyville. We are sworn enemies."
William sighed. She had an excellent point. "We have twelve weeks until we reach England to create a believable story. For now, several prominent members of society are aboard this ship and they already believe you are my wife." William ran a hand through his long hair. His mother was always badgering him to cut it to the short style that was popular in the ton, but he could never bring himself to look like one of the dandies.
Miss Atwell remained silent, but her shoulders shook. Was it from frustration? Exhaustion? Or was she trying to rein in her emotions? If he were to be married to Miss Atwell, he consoled himself with the knowledge that she was not a simpering debutante that was prone to fainting spells.
"Miss Atwell, although this is highly unusual, marriages of convenience are made every day in your country as well as mine. While I cannot promise you a love match, I can promise that I will be a good husband. You and your sister shall want for nothing and she shall be safe from Le Coquin."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but the set of her jaw remained.
William drew a deep breath, frustrated at her silence. But he was duty bound to Charles. "Miss Atwell, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
"In name only?" she asked, finally looking up at him.
Her wide green eyes glinted in the starlight, and William realized that she was afraid. Of him? Of the prospect of marriage?
"In name only," he promised, holding out his hand.
Miss Atwell hesitated. Finally, she sighed and slid her small, thin fingers into his.
***
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