His Californian Countess. Kate WelshЧитать онлайн книгу.
knock at the door drew him back to the present and his eyes flew open. Hope that Amber had decided to return surged through him. Refusing to greet her naked as the day he was born, he made his way to his trunk and hurriedly located his dressing gown. After shrugging into it and knotting the tie at his waist, he hurried to the door on wobbly limbs. “I’m relieved you’ve reconsid—” he said as he pulled the heavy door open.
And his heart fell.
The drunken doctor he’d met the day he booked passage was not the person he wished to see. The older man wore an imperious look on his face as he said, “I’m told your nurse has deserted you.”
“I no longer have need of nursing care, and where my wife is cannot be of great interest to you.”
“It is of great interest to me until I’ve become certain she’s not about to take ill. I must pronounce you healthy, as well.”
Jamie spread his arms in mock surrender. “By all means.”
The doctor took no time at all in making the pronouncement that Jamie had indeed come out at the other side of an illness that should by all rights have killed him. Jamie did not waste his time telling the doctor that he’d been doing that all his life, thanks to good women like Mimm and the pixie. Amber, he corrected silently.
Her name was Amber.
He rested a few minutes and began to dress so he could go talk to that young lady. His wife. His countess. He’d only managed to don his small clothes and trousers when another knock sounded hollowly in the room. He was less hopeful this time about who might be there. Yet he was still disappointed when a young boy in uniform stood there.
“I’m to fetch her trunk, sir,” he said without preamble.
“Trunk?”
The cabin boy looked behind him at the door across the saloon. “The lady, sir. She said I was to fetch her trunk.”
“Her cabin is that one? I was told that cabin was assigned to Miss Helena Conwell.”
“Oh, no, sir. That confusion was put to rest days ago along with all the rumors about her … uh … her character. She and the one you was expecting switched travel accommodation, ya’ see.”
“No, I don’t see. Is Miss Conwell elsewhere on the ship?”
“Oh, no, sir. She never boarded.”
“But when I came on board you said she had.”
“‘Cause she give her name as Miss Conwell.”
Jamie felt his head would split open at any moment. Perhaps too much information was flooding into his brain box. “So how was the confusion cleared up?” he demanded, frowning, not even sure he wanted to know. Had he been duped into this voyage? If that had been the intent, he’d fallen into the trap. He could be with Meara right then or looking for Helena. Perhaps that had been the plan.
Plan?
He was nearly sure neither Helena nor Amber would have targeted him as the butt of a prank or worse. Amber would have been trying to do what he, Jamie, had been trying to do. Protect Helena from Franklin Gowery. He was the man Helena had been fleeing. Not Jamie. And if Jamie had handled things with Helena better, she’d have run to him. Not away.
“We got her real name when she was to marry you,” the boy said, calling Jamie back to the problem at hand. His wife and who she was. “She gave it so the reverend could fill out marriage papers, and for the ceremony.” He sounded as if he were explaining the thing to a dolt. And that was how Jamie felt. “I was in the hall,” the boy went on. “The second witness, sir,” he went on. “I was round a lot, giving the lady water to wash yer sheets and … um … such. Always smiled even though she was all done in most of the time.”
Jamie heard everything the lad said, but one fact stood out, reminding him of the overarching truth of the situation. Not only had she been trying to protect Helena, but she had saved his life. His anger at her deception, while perhaps justified in some way, was immaterial when weighed against the truth of it. Amber had saved his life, and at the risk of her own. She was his wife now and though he knew things about her—that she was sweet and bold, caring and brave—he had no idea of her full name. “Amber what?” he demanded, not feeling the least in control of his own destiny at the moment.
“Her name?” the cabin boy asked. At Jamie’s nod he said, “Her name was Dodd, sir. Miss Amber Dodd.”
Jamie nodded. Was. Yes. Of course. Now he supposed it would be Amber Reynolds. Countess Adair. Lady Adair. Oh, God! He was married.
“May I get the trunk for her?”
Once again, remembering how he continued to appear, Jamie stepped back and waved the boy in. “How did it get in here, anyway?”
“I was permitted to bring it as far as the door. And … uh … just now she … um … she seems in great need of her clothing.”
Jamie cringed for the second time in less than an hour. She’d looked a bit like Venus Rising earlier, but now he realized she’d stormed off like that. It would be talked of endlessly aboard the ship, for lack of anything more interesting.
“I would appreciate it if you would keep that part of all this under wraps,” he told the boy. “I wouldn’t like to see the countess embarrassed because I became a difficult patient.”
“About how she wasn’t dressed after the fight you two had, you mean? Oh, no, sir. I didn’t even tell the doctor. His lips get to flappin’ when he’s in his cups. Just said she was wantin’ her privacy now that you were on the mend. That’s what brought the doctor. I had to tell him, as I was ordered to, if either of you left the cabin. But I wasn’t ordered to say what she was wearing—or wasn’t—when she left. She was quite upset, sir.”
Jamie couldn’t fight a wry smile when he remembered her wonderful Irish temper exploding all over him. That thought lightened his mood a bit. “Yes, I believe she was ready to attempt to do murder when she stormed off. I did not remember our marriage and was confused as to why she was in my cabin in her state of undress.”
The cabin boy’s eyes widened. “That would do it, sir.”
Jamie was tempted to loiter about in the saloon as the boy dragged the trunk across to the pixie’s door, but he didn’t want to risk another explosion in front of the lad. He did not even know why he’d stood there trading confidences with a stranger barely out of short pants. A cabin boy was certainly far below his station, but that was one of the things he liked about America. Birth was of no consequence.
When the door had closed behind the boy, Jamie knew why he’d stood there chatting. He was lonely.
He didn’t know how to win her back, but he knew he wanted to. Needed to. She could even now be carrying his child. He would think of something while gaining his strength. He’d leave her alone, then he would find a way to tempt her back to him. Like it or not, they were wed. This voyage would last at least another three months, and he had this time to woo his wife. They might as well make the best of the situation.
Amber, having donned a wrapper she’d left hanging on a hook behind the door, forced herself to smile at the young cabin boy, hoping he didn’t notice evidence of the tears she’d dashed away when he’d knocked. He set down her trunk and turned toward where she stood in the doorway.
“Is that all, my lady?”
Amber blinked. The title weighed on her. And now she was stuck with it. “I’ll have a coin for you once I unearth my funds from somewhere amongst my things. Thank you for all your help while the earl was ill. Have a lovely day.”
She nearly sobbed as she hastily closed the door behind him. She should not have mentioned his lordship. Anger toward him had quickly given way to heartbreak and she didn’t want to chance creating more gossip about their relationship. Though she knew it was probably impossible on this voyage, she didn’t want her