Shipwrecked With The Captain. Diane GastonЧитать онлайн книгу.
answered, ‘My—my maid is resting. Perhaps you might leave her tray here, as well? We will tend to her.’
The seaman bowed. ‘Very good, miss.’ He placed both trays on the table.
When he left, Claire put her hand on her chest to still her rapidly beating heart.
‘I was afraid he would notice we look alike,’ Lady Rebecca said. ‘He must have glimpsed me when he left the trays.’
The crewman had taken no more notice of Lady Rebecca dressed as Claire than the handsome gentleman had done in the companionway.
Claire knew why. ‘A governess is not important enough to notice, my lady.’
She joined Lady Rebecca at the table and they continued to talk as they partook of the bread, cheese and ale the crewman had brought. Claire relaxed in this woman’s company. She forgot their difference in status and felt as comfortable as if they were sisters.
Rebecca was apparently feeling a similar kinship. ‘I believe we should call each other by our given names,’ she said. ‘It seems silly to be formal to one’s mirror image.’
Claire was flattered. ‘If you desire it...Rebecca. Then I am Claire to you.’
‘Claire!’ She grinned.
Claire felt emboldened. ‘Might you tell me now why you do not wish to be married?’ Marriage was what every woman wanted, was it not? ‘Now that we are no longer formal?’
Lady Rebecca—Rebecca, she meant—turned solemn. ‘A woman gives up everything by marrying. Any wealth or property she might have. Any right to decide for herself what she wishes to do.’ Her chin set. ‘If I am to give up everything, it should be to a man who loves me and respects me and will not confine me.’
Those were lofty sentiments. But life rarely fulfilled one’s deepest wishes. ‘And this man?’ Claire asked.
Rebecca grimaced. ‘I met him only once. He merely wished to assure himself I could produce an heir.’
‘But, of course he would want an heir,’ Claire responded. ‘Especially if he has a title and property.’ Gentlemen, especially peers, needed an heir.
‘He does.’ Rebecca tapped her pewter tankard with her fingernail.
‘Is the gentleman wealthy enough to provide for you?’ Claire asked.
‘He is said to be prosperous,’ Rebecca replied. ‘He must be, because he is willing to marry me with a mere pittance for a dowry.’
She certainly did not look as if she had a mere pittance for a dowry.
‘Will you tell me who he is?’ Claire asked.
Rebecca shrugged. ‘Lord Stonecroft.’
This was not a name Claire knew, but, then, why would she?
‘Baron Stonecroft of Gillford.’ Rebecca said the name as if biting into rancid meat.
‘Ah.’ Now Claire understood. ‘You were hoping for a higher title than baron. I mean, you said you are the daughter of an earl.’
Rebecca sniffed. ‘I care nothing for that.’
Then, what? ‘Did he seem like a cruel man, then? Is that your objection?’
Rebecca sighed. ‘I do not believe there is precisely anything to object to in him. I simply do not wish to marry him.’
‘Refuse, then.’ Surely this lady had choices.
Rebecca rolled her eyes. ‘My brother—my half-brother—says I am too much of a burden for him to wait for me to find a husband I would like. I’ve refused every offer he’s arranged for me. This time he made certain. I will be turned out without a penny if I do not marry Lord Stonecroft.’ Her face turned red. ‘I’ve no doubt he means what he says.’
Claire knew how it felt to have no choices. Her heart wrenched in sympathy. ‘How sad. One would hope a brother would understand. Family should understand, should they not?’
Rebecca gave her a curious look. ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters? Any family at all?’
Claire’s throat tightened with emotion. ‘I am alone in the world. Any relations are too distant to be concerned with me.’
‘My parents are gone,’ Rebecca responded in a like tone. ‘And my brother might as well be dead. He said he never wishes to see me again. Ever. Even if he visits England. He made that very clear.’
Another way they were alike. Both alone. Both without parents. Lady Rebecca went on to say her father died two years before, her mother, a decade ago.
At least she’d known her mother. Claire’s mother had died giving birth to her; her father, over five years ago.
But Rebecca had one choice Claire would probably never have. The chance to make a good marriage. ‘I think you are fortunate to marry, Lady Rebecca—Rebecca,’ she finally said. ‘You have little money or property, correct? You can only gain by marrying. You’ll gain a home of your own to manage. Children of your own. Comfort and security. Even status and a respectable position in society.’
It sounded like a wonderful choice to Claire. She yearned to have a man to love her—that is, the right man, one she was free to love in return. She suspected she would even enjoy the pleasures of the marital bed, because sometimes when seeing a handsome man—like the man who’d spoken to them in the hallway—she’d wonder how it would be for him to kiss her or hold her.
Could men sense such impulses in her? It often seemed the wrong men paid her attention.
How much easier it would be to simply be married. To have such security.
She opened her mouth to speak of this to Lady Rebecca, but the lady’s expression had turned desolate.
Claire wanted only to comfort her now. ‘Perhaps it will not be so onerous to be Lady Stonecroft.’
Rebecca gave a polite smile. ‘Perhaps not.’
Claire changed the subject, to save Rebecca more discomfort. They talked about their interests. What books they’d read. What plays they’d seen. Their favourite pieces of music. From time to time, Rebecca convinced Claire to impersonate her and check up on her maid, Nolan. The woman accepted her as Rebecca, each time.
* * *
They talked until night turned the angry sea dark. It felt lovely to Claire. She’d not had such a friend in a long time.
But Rebecca’s eyes, so like Claire’s, grew heavy and, as they talked, she tried to stifle yawns.
Claire, feeling guilty for claiming her company for so long, stood. ‘I should return to my cabin so you might get some sleep. I’ll help you out of your dress, if you help me out of this lovely gown.’
Rebecca rose and turned her back so Claire could untie the laces at the back of the plain dress she had owned for years. It had been such a pleasure to wear something a bit decadent, if one could call wool decadent. Ladies who frequently purchased new dresses did not realise how it felt to wear the same drab garments, day after day.
As Claire loosened the laces of the dress, Rebecca turned to her. ‘Let us see how far we can carry this masquerade. You be me tonight. Sleep in my nightclothes, in this bed. And I will continue being you.’
Claire blanched. ‘I cannot allow you to be closeted in that tiny berth they gave me!’
‘Why not?’ Rebecca looked defiant. ‘It will be an adventure for me. And you will have the comfort of this cabin as a treat. When Nolan enters in the morning, we shall discover if she still believes you are me.’
She pulled out her nightdress, made of the softest of muslin. ‘Here.’
Claire fingered the fine cloth of the nightdress. ‘Perhaps. If you desire this.’
‘I