Reforming Lord Ragsdale (Carla Kelly’s Regency Romances)

Chapter 21

I am a coward, she thought that evening as she stayed belowstairs with Timothy and listened to him tell her of his life with the Holladays. She held him close, her arm tight around him, and gradually allowed good sense to reclaim her. After she was sure that Lord Ragsdale had left the house for the evening, she prepared a pallet on the floor of her attic room and took Tim there. They spoke of the coming voyage until she could almost forget what had happened in the book room.

This is the reality of my life , she told herself firmly. We are sailing to an unknown place, and we do not know what we will find. We will be among soldiers and convicts. She sighed and looked down at Tim, whose eyes were closing slowly, even as she watched. She touched his shoulder, then pulled his blanket higher, marveling all over again in the pleasure of seeing him. Am I wrong to take him along to this dreadful place? Lord Ragsdale said he would take him to Norfolk.

“Emma, I wish you would answer me,” he was saying.

“What? What?” she asked, guilty at the thousand directions her mind was taking.

“I want to know if you are afraid,” he asked.

“I used to be,” she said honestly, knowing that she could not lie to her brother. “But now that you are to come with me, I don’t think there is anything that can frighten the two of us. ”

“But suppose Da and Sam are dead?” he persisted, taking her hand.

“We will decide what to do if it comes to that, Tim. Go to sleep now.”

He slept peacefully, quietly, but he would not relinquish her hand. She sat on the floor beside him, knowing that sleep was far from her. I wish my conscience were as clear as yours, Tim , she thought as she gazed at his relaxed face. I have labored so hard to mend a faulty character, not realizing all the while that it was mine.

She undressed finally and crawled into bed, only to stare at the ceiling and listen to house noises until everyone was asleep. Oh, well , she decided as her eyes began to close, it is better to love foolishly than to hate bitterly. I hope I am wiser than I was and more kind.

~

Her resolution was firm, and in the morning she dressed quietly and tiptoed out of her room, careful not to waken Tim. She went to the front hall for the mail, dreading that Lord Ragsdale would rise early and demand more conversation.

The mail was gone. She looked around at Lasker.

“Lord Ragsdale has already perused the correspondence and placed it in the book room,” he said. “He has gone to Norfolk, taking Miss Partridge and her mother with him.”

She sighed with relief and went to the book room. His usual list of instructions was on the desk as well as a folded note. She sat down and opened the note. “Dear Emma,” she read, “Clarissa is eager to see the manor and figure out more ways to spend my money constructively. We will return after your ship sails, so let me wish you happy journey and good news at the end of it. Excuse my bad manners. John Staples.”

There was no need to read it again and search for hidden meanings, for there were none. She managed a smile and chided herself for being an idiot. We are talking of Lord Ragsdale , she told herself, he who loves to kiss women. It was that and nothing more. I am only chagrined that I caused such a kind man any embarrassment. I trust he will soon forget it, if he has not already.

His kindness to her continued through the days of his absence. Her next visit to the bank was more in the way of a command performance, as the custodians of a major portion of Lord Ragsdale’s wealth assured her that she was to take the enormous sum of two hundred pounds with her. She could not imagine such largess and told them so, but the senior partners only looked at each other and chuckled.

“He told us you would say that,” they assured her. “Lately, he is so well-organized and sensible that we do not argue with him over paltry sums.”

I have created a monster , she thought with amusement. “Very well, then, sirs, so it will be. Never let anyone say that I don’t know when to save my breath to cool my porridge.”

She also knew better than to argue when Lady Ragsdale insisted that they visit the cloth merchants and purchase yards and yards of muslin goods, and silk stockings, and bonnets of a practical nature. “I cannot imagine where you will get these things if we do not buy them now,” she said, explaining away her own generosity. She paused in front of a boll of handsome burgundy wool. “Do you suppose. . .”

“No, my lady,” Emma said hurriedly. “I fear it is rather hot in the antipodes. Let us confine our enthusiasms to muslin.”

“It seems so ordinary,” said Lady Ragsdale with a sigh. “Do you not suppose there will be balls there occasionally or even musicales?”

I could never tell this dear lady what I fear I will find , she thought as Lady Ragsdale cast a longing eye on a nearby bolt of pale yellow silk. We are going to a convict colony, a place of harsh rule and desperate men. She, who had been coddled so gently, would be horrified if she knew how hard it might be. I shall never tell her .

“Do you know, you may be right, my lady,” she said, choosing her words carefully as her own fears returned. “I think that silk would be entirely in order.”

“I knew it!” Lady Ragsdale declared in triumph. “With that and a pair of Morocco leather slippers to match, I will pronounce you fit. You may keep my paisley shawl,” she added generously.

~

“Where can we squeeze it all?” she grumbled to Tim several times in as many days when Lady Ragsdale continued to add to the contents of the sea chest. Her largess spilled over into another trunk and then another, each requiring the strenuous efforts of the footman to close them, with Lasker sitting on top, dignified to the end. “This has to be enough,” she said firmly on her last night on Curzon Street as Lady Ragsdale met her on the first-floor landing with another nightgown.

“Certainly, Emma,” Lady Ragsdale agreed. “And if I think of anything else, I can send it ’round later.”

Emma turned away to hide her smile. Lady Ragsdale, you have no concept of geography , she thought. She took the nightgown from Lady Ragsdale, said good night, and went into the book room for one last look around. She could hear Tim and the footman bringing the trunks down two flights of stairs. Lasker had made arrangements with a carter to pick them up at first light.

And we will follow , she reflected. A penny post from the dockyard had informed them of their departure with the tide in the early afternoon. She went to the window to stare down at the street below, rain-slicked from a sudden squall and washed clean of the day’s commerce. Soon there would be only months and months of waves and wind and small ships. “And wormy food and sea biscuit,” she said out loud as she opened the window for a deep breath of flowers in the window box. “And serious uncertainty, as you would say, Da. I wonder what I will find at the end of my journey.”

She tidied the room, hopeful that Lord Ragsdale would be able to discover everything in order when he returned. She was about to turn out the lamp, but suddenly she knew it wasn’t right to leave without even a farewell note. There can be no harm in expressing myself this last time , she thought, no harm at all. She sat down at the desk.

It was easy to tell Lord Ragsdale thank you on paper, to thank him for putting the heart back in her, for making her angry enough at times to keep her from melancholy, for finding her family, for tying up the ragged strings of her life. She labored over the page, wanting to express her whole heart and mind. “I do not know whatever good I may have done you, my lord, but you have given me back my brother,” she wrote, then hesitated. I could tell you I love you , she considered, the quill poised over the inkwell. It would be true, probably the most true thing I ever wrote. She put down the quill and rested her chin on her hands. There will always be some part of me that longs for you, but should I say that to a man so soon to be tangled in the toils of matrimony?

“How fortunate I will be so far away,” she said, and picked up the quill again. “I can be no possible threat, Clarissa Partridge, bless your pouty hide.” She wrote swiftly then, telling him of her love, leaving nothing out, not mincing a single word. Nothing could be safer; she would be in the middle of the Atlantic before he returned from Norfolk. She picked up the letter, still frowning over it, wondering why even that declaration was not enough.

And then she understood and laughed out loud, sticking the quill back in the ink. Not only do I love you, Lord Ragsdale , she told herself as she wrote the words, I also like you.

It looked silly on the page, like something you would say to a friend from childhood, or a schoolmate. She almost tore up the letter. He will think I have lost all reason to say something so childish , she thought. She stared at the note for a long while, then sighed and tucked it in under the paperweight. She blew out the lamp, took another look around the room, and closed the door on her career as a secretary.

~

Leaving the house on Curzon Street was harder than she could have imagined. Lady Ragsdale cried, the footman looked decidedly forlorn, and even Lasker showed a glimmer of some expression besides patient condescension when he helped her into the hackney, nodded to Tim, and told the driver to take them to the docks. When she looked back, she even thought she saw him dab at his eyes. She may have been mistaken; it was a blustery day, and there were cinders in the air.

“We have so much to look forward to,” she told Tim, who grinned at her.

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself,” he teased. I suppose I am , she thought, struck by the truth of his observation. Leave it to a little brother to define my own melancholy. If I did not know better, I would accuse him of taking lessons from Lord Ragsdale.

They arrived at Deptford Hard in plenty of time to catch the tide that even affected the oily swells of the Thames, far upstream from the ocean. The Atlas rode low in the water, full of supplies for the seven-month journey, and more victuals for the convict colony that still needed food from home to take the ragged edge off hunger. She looked closer, frowning. There was no bustle of activity on deck to signify a ship about to sail, no one but the captain, who stared at a long list as he paced the deck.

Tim noticed the strange silence too. “Emma, was it today or tomorrow?”

Before she could add her questions to his, the captain of the Atlas spotted them and came to the railing. “Miss Costello!” he shouted to them on the dock. “Go home. Something has happened, and we cannot sail today.”

“What?” she shouted back, dreading a return to Curzon Street and another round of farewells tomorrow, or the day after.

“The lord inspector died last night. We won’t sail until the end of the week.”

Trust the lord inspector to be so thoughtless , she told herself as they returned to Curzon Street in silence. Now we must go through all this again. She leaned back and drummed her fingers impatiently on the seat, too irritated for rational conversation with Tim.

By the time they were approaching the turn to Curzon Street, she acknowledged the hand of providence in this event. At least she would have time to reclaim the letter from the book room and replace it with something more dignified. That hope crawled up her throat and then flopped back into her stomach as they turned the corner to see the Ragsdale carriage at the front door.

“Heaven and all the saints help me!” she gasped.

Tim looked at her in surprise. “Don’t you want to have a chance to say good-bye to Lord Ragsdale?” he asked. “I know I do.”

“I’m not so sure,” she wailed, wanting to leap from the hackney, run back to the dock, and hide there.

Tim peered at her. “Don’t you like him? After all he’s done for us?”

She nodded, kicking herself for her own folly, and hoping that Lord Ragsdale’s indolence would lead him to avoid the book room altogether, now that she was no longer there. “Of course I do,” she muttered.

“Good,” Tim said. “He told me he likes you.”

Emma groaned and closed her eyes. That word has come back to haunt me , she thought, then stared at her little brother. “He said what? ”

“That he liked you,” Tim repeated patiently, with that sly look that brothers reserve for especially dense sisters. “I told him of course he did, and he just laughed.”

Well, you won’t be laughing now, Lord Ragsdale , she thought as she grossly overtipped the jarvey in her confusion. You will think I am such an idiot.

She contemplated sneaking around to the servants’ entrance, but Lasker flung open the door, an actual smile on his face as she started to tiptoe away.

“Miss Costello! You have changed your mind! Lord Ragsdale, can you imagine who has returned?”

To her everlasting chagrin, Lord Ragsdale stood in the doorway too, his mouth open in amazement. “I thought you would be gone by now. . .,” he began.

“I did not know you would return so soon,” she started to tell him at the same time.

Tim laughed and hurried inside. Emma came up the steps slowly. She tried to observe him without being obvious and could see no sign of disgust on his face, or exasperation. There was nothing beyond a deepening of the crease between his eyes, and a certain dullness in his expression she had not noticed when he left. As she watched, he made a visible effort to appear cheerful.

“Change your mind, Emma?” he asked as he held open the door for her. “If it’s any consolation, I think I would have.” He shuddered. “All that water moving up and down! I would probably get calluses from kneeling over a bucket for seven months. Wise of you to reconsider.”

She shook her head. He walked with her down the hall. She glanced at the book-room door, which was closed. His trunk was still at the foot of the stairs.

“Did you just return, my lord?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

“Only just,” he agreed. “But you have not answered my question.”

Good. He cannot possibly have seen the note yet , she thought with relief. “The lord inspector has died suddenly, apparently. We will sail in a few days, my lord,” she explained.

Lord Ragsdale managed a rather mirthless chuckle. “I never thought he was a man for the rigors of Australia, myself. He probably is only pretending until the ship leaves without him.”

She laughed because she knew he expected it. Go upstairs like a good man , she thought, willing him to move away from the book room, where he stood now with his hand on the doorknob.

“If you do not mind, then, my lord, we will remain here a few more days until we sail,” she said, when he continued to just observe her. And for heaven’s sake, don’t go in there , she thought.

“You know I do not mind, Emma,” he replied, then opened the door and went in, closing it firmly behind him.

I think I will die of embarrassment , she thought as she stood at the door. She held her breath, expecting any moment for Lord Ragsdale to come bounding out, note in hand, to scold her for being an idiot. Nothing happened. She let out her breath and quietly climbed the stairs.

She spent the rest of the afternoon lying on her bed and staring at the wall, Tim curled up beside her, asleep. She dreaded every sound on the stairs and panicked when darkness came and someone knocked.

“It’s only me,” said the footman.

“Come in then, Hanley,” she said, hoping the relief in her voice was not too obvious. Tim sat up and rubbed his eyes as she opened the door.

“Lady Ragsdale would like you and Tim to have dinner with her,” he said, then added, when he noticed the hesitancy on her face. “She does not like to dine alone, Emma.”

“But isn’t Lord Ragsdale available?” Emma asked.

The footman shook his head. “Oh, my, and didn’t he tear out of here like a man with a mission!”

I wonder what that means , she considered as she ushered Tim out the door. I only hope he has not returned to his club and his former bad habits.

She and Tim followed the footman downstairs, and she sent them on ahead as she went to the book room door, listened a moment, opened it quietly, and tiptoed to the desk. Relief washed over her. The note remained exactly where she had left it, tucked under the paperweight. She snatched it up, crumpled it into a tiny ball, and threw the note into the fireplace, where she watched until it flamed and crumbled into ashes.

Her heart ten times lighter, she managed to make herself good company to Lady Ragsdale for the evening, never a difficult task. As much as she disliked cards, she knew she could while away an evening with them, nodding occasionally, making comments here and there as Lady Ragsdale chattered, cheated, and triumphed.

She kept her ears open for Lord Ragsdale’s return, but when she finally surrendered her cards at midnight, his candle was still waiting for him on the entrance hall table.

She decided the next day that he must have seen the note, after all, and had chosen to avoid her. It was the only conclusion she could make because he left the house before she woke and had not returned late that evening.

“I do not understand it,” Lady Ragsdale commented as she signaled to Lasker to pour the sherry after another interminable night of cards. “Perhaps he is still with Clarissa. The wedding is planned for early June, after all, and these things take careful planning.”

“I am certain you are right,” Emma agreed, happy to end the discussion by yawning, stretching, then saying good night. What a sham , she thought as she climbed the stairs again. Now I will toss and turn and pretend to sleep, when I am in a perfect agony over Lord Ragsdale. Suppose he has returned to his former bad habits? she thought again. It seemed unlikely; the footman made no mention of anything out of the ordinary. I am stewing over nothing , she decided, but that thought did nothing to hasten sleep .

I cannot manage another day of sleeplessness , she told herself as she dragged out of bed and sat there until she had the energy to rise. Tim was already gone; in fact, his pallet was neatly folded. She rose, looked at the tangle of her own bed, and shook her head at her folly.

She was straightening the sheets when Tim burst into the room. “Emma, there is a message from the Atlas ! We are sailing at noon!”

“Thank goodness,” she said and meant each word. The sooner I am gone, the better.

They arrived at the Atlas within the hour, after suffering through another round of farewells. She knew that Lord Ragsdale was in his chambers, because she heard him walking about as she tiptoed down the hall. There were more tears from Lady Ragsdale, and then they were safely inside the hackney. She made the mistake of looking back at the house, where, to her horror, she saw Lord Ragsdale standing at his bedroom window. To her further amazement, he opened it, leaned out, waved, and blew her a kiss.

This is so odd , she thought as she waved back but omitted the kiss. There have been too many of those to unsettle a rational mind , she assured herself as she set her heart and mind on the journey ahead.

The Atlas was a swarm of activity this time as she and Tim went on board and found their cabin, a tiny cubbyhole crammed ’tweendecks. They drew straws, and Tim won the top berth. She sat on her berth and looked around her. For six or seven months this will be our home , she thought, and then we will be in a most hostile place, from which so few return. She considered the matter and then realized that it did not make a difference where she was. There was no home anymore in Ireland; Virginia had been a pleasant interlude, but only a place to mark time; England was the enemy still.

She lay back and propped her hands behind her head. No, that was not true , she reasoned, thinking of Norfolk and the good people there. And Lord Ragsdale is in England. Silent tears rolled down to wet her hair. “Oh, Clarissa, please realize what a gem you have,” she whispered. “Do you know that you are the luckiest lady in England?”

She dried her eyes before Tim noticed and assured him that she would join him on deck later. There would be no pleasure taken in watching London recede as they worked their way to the Channel. The familiar numbness that had captured her heart the day after Robert Emmet walked up the lane to her house was returning again. She closed her eyes against it, knowing that she had not the strength to resist anymore.

But I must exert myself for Tim , she thought, sitting up. Even if we arrive in Sydney and find no trace of Da or Sam, I have Tim to think of. She straightened her dress and went into the companionway.

It was full of trunks and boxes. She stepped around them and met the apologetic glance of the ship’s steward.

“Sorry, mum,” he said. “It’s the new lord inspector’s stuff, and where am I to put it, I ask?”

She shook her head over his dilemma and hurried on deck, minding her steps around more luggage and rope, and casks. Tim had already attached himself to the seamen doing their slow shuffle around the capstan as the great anchor rose. He grinned at her in self-conscious delight, and she smiled back. This trip will be a boy’s paradise , she thought. I wonder what I will make of it?

The captain and first mate were everywhere, bellowing orders to the men balanced on the yardarms. She glanced at the small knot of men standing forward, chatting by the railing, obviously the other passengers. There was a lady with them, well-dressed and standing close to the man who must be the colony’s new governor. Perhaps she will need a servant , Emma thought. I should make myself known to her.

She stayed where she was, shy again. I have seven months to make her acquaintance , she excused herself. It can wait. She turned to go belowdeck once more but stopped and looked around again. Someone had called her name .

She looked at Tim, who was still pulling up the anchor, his attention concentrated on the sail above him that was slowly filling with air now. I must be hearing things , she decided and moved toward the companionway again.

“Emma, I wish you would pay attention,” Lord Ragsdale called to her.

She whirled around and stood in dumbfounded amazement as one of the men separated himself from the group by the railing and strolled her way. She stared at him, then sank down on a hatch as he came closer, taking his time, ambling along as though he owned the ship.

“What a lot of clutter,” he said with some distaste as he seated himself beside her. “The captain tells me that we will stop in Rio to take on livestock, and then it really becomes interesting.”

Her mind was even more cluttered than the deck. If I look at him, I know he will vanish , she told herself but could not bring herself to glance his way. She knew quite forcefully that the last thing she wanted was for him to disappear. I will just sit here and pretend another moment , she thought.

It would have worked, except that he took her hand then, and she knew he was real. She looked down at his fingers twined through hers and closed her eyes as she sighed and leaned against his shoulder, feeling safe again.

“Emma,” he said after a moment, and there was nothing of assurance in his voice now. “I hate to admit it, but I’ve made a real muddle of your excellent work of redemption.”

She smiled but did not open her eyes. “I suppose you will tell me now that there is a ferociously angry lady in London who would probably break you on a rack if she ever catches you.”

“Well, yes,” he said. “You Irish have such a way with a phrase, did you know?”

She giggled. “What have you done, Lord Ragsdale?”

He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “I think I have made it impossible to return to London anytime soon.” He paused a moment. “How fortunate then that I have taken on the job of lord inspector for Australia and Van Dieman’s Land.”

She gasped and looked at him then. “You can’t be telling the truth!”

“Why would anyone lie about that? Really, Emma, you disappoint me.”

He kissed her then, and as she let him fold her in his arms, she knew his disappointment did not extend to his lips. Or his heart, obviously; it was pounding as hard as hers was. She would have been happy to continue kissing him until they arrived in Sydney, but he stopped suddenly and looked up at the cheering sailors in the mast overhead.

“We should obviously continue this belowdeck,” he commented as he tucked her close under his arm. “I am somewhat squeamish about spectators to my lovemaking. Call me prudish, but there you are.”

“I could never call you prudish, Lord Ragsdale,” she assured him.

“Yes, well,” he said. “Neither are you, my dear. That was quite a note you left on my desk.”

She blushed. “I had hoped I was able to retrieve it in time.”

“So glad you didn’t,” he murmured. “It sent me out the door and on my most spontaneous errand ever. Clarissa Partridge—should you ever require this information—does not enjoy tumult, challenge, or change of plans.” He kissed her head. “She’d have been a dead bore in a place like Australia, which will probably contain generous parts of all three.”

“It was the note?” she asked.

“Well, yes and no,” he said. “I had decided several weeks ago that I loved you, but figured that was a lost cause. So I thought it would be less painful all around if I stuck with the original plans and married Clarissa. I did not want to return from Norfolk until I was sure you were gone.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I owe such a debt to the defunct lord inspector. ”

“But I do love you,” she assured him. “I didn’t think you could ever be serious about me, so I left that note only because I knew you would never see it when I was around.”

“Of course; makes perfect sense,” he said calmly, with only a hint of a smile, then glanced at Tim, who stood beside Emma. “And you, lad, what does your expression tell me?”

“Only that I do not understand adults,” he said honestly.

“Nor I,” Lord Ragsdale confessed. He kissed Emma again. “I had to make some arrangements, obviously, to show you what a good fellow I am—hardworking, honest, and all that, and fit to be father to your children. I don’t think your da would much approve if I were to arrive unemployed with you in Australia and tell him what a bargain he was getting for a son-in-law.”

“And all this because I wrote I love you,” she marveled. “I am sure you have heard it before.”

“Heavens, yes,” he agreed, the picture of serenity. “Fae Moullé used to tell me that on a regular basis, so she couldn’t have meant it.” His voice turned serious then, and her heart pounded louder. “Actually, Emma, what no one has ever said before was that they liked me.”

“I do,” she said simply and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice equally quiet.

“And you are truly lord inspector?” she asked. “How did you manage that?”

“Simple, really. And let me state here how nice it was of the former lord inspector to oblige by dropping down dead during the first course of his farewell dinner.”

“You are a rascal,” she said with some feeling.

“We know that already,” he reminded her. “After leaving Clarissa in strong hysterics and starting to foam, I dashed to the Office of Criminal Business. Emma, I do not understand why our favorite porter gets so excited when I come around. Think how relieved he will be not to see me for a few years. ”

“Go on, and leave out the dramatics,” she warned him.

“He took me right in to see Mr. Capper—imagine that, if you can—who walked, nay, ran me over to the Colonial Office, where they took me to Home Office. Oh, I love bureaucracy, Emma. Think what a politician I will make.”

“I warned you. . .,” she began but stopped when he kissed her again.

“A kiss or two, and you are so easy to deal with,” he murmured. “Imagine what can happen when we attempt something more strenuous! Well, to my narrative, if you insist.”

“I do.”

“Someone thought to check my military record at Horse Guard. It must have been sufficiently distinguished—my dearest, lose an eye and gain your country’s love—because I waited in a few more anterooms, then was sent back to Home with a recommendation.”

“Such exertion,” she murmured and held out her arm for Tim, who sat down on her other side. The ship was moving now, the sails filled.

“Actually, it was worth it. Emma, I cannot confirm this, but one of the senior clerks in Home told me that Spencer Perceval—the prime minister, my dear; don’t look so blank—even said, ‘What a novelty. Did they finally get someone who might actually do the job?’” he concluded modestly.

“They did,” she said. “Mrs. Larch always swore that you know how to handle people.”

“Let us see if I can deal with felons, murderers, blackguards, assorted lowlife, and touchy Irish. Let me promise you that for every old idea I use, I will think up two new ones,” he said and reached into his pocket. “Which brings me to my next bit of effort. Emma, you see before you a special license. It cost me a bundle, and I would hate to waste it.”

She took the writ from him and looked it over, then handed it back. “You’ve become so frugal, my lord.”

“Yes. Economy is the key here, my love. Do call me John, by the way. I think our association is shortly to become somewhat intimate, and I think too much ‘my lording’ will quite put me off my best conjugal efforts.”

“Really, John,” she said and blushed.

“Economy, dear. You see, I need a secretary for my new duties—if David Breedlow cannot be found—and I need a wife and mother for my children. As I am only allowed so much poundage for this voyage, I must economize and combine all that in one.”

She smiled at Lord Ragsdale and nudged Tim. “Doesn’t he carry on?”

Tim nodded. “I think he is asking you to marry him.”

“Smart lad,” Lord Ragsdale said with approval. “How about it, Emma? Will you marry me? It’s an exertion, but I think I can manage.”

“Of course I will marry you, John,” she said promptly, “but I might remind you that we have left the dock.”

“True,” he agreed. “Isn’t it our good fortune that the Colonial Office decided to send out a vicar to Australia? He’s the one over there looking decidedly seasick already. Granted he is not Catholic for you, my dear, but he’ll make us legal.” He looked at Tim. “Will you mind having your cabin to yourself? I plan to be seasick and a devoted husband, in equal parts, and it won’t be a pleasant sight for you. Perhaps Emma will be a loving enough wife to raise my head from the bucket every now and then.”

Tim shook his head and grinned. “I won’t mind, as long as you treat her well.”

Lord Ragsdale stopped smiling then, and his face became so serious that Emma felt tears in her eyes. She brushed at them, then squeezed his hand tighter.

“I promise, laddie,” he said softly. “She’ll have no cause to regret her decision.” He released Emma’s hand and reached across her to take Tim by the shoulder. “And if for some reason we cannot find your father, I would beg the raising of you as my own, if that’s agreeable. ”

“Aye,” Tim whispered, his face as solemn as Lord Ragsdale’s.

“Very well, then!” Lord Ragsdale said and looked at Emma and Tim. “What a couple of long faces!” He slapped his forehead then in theatrical exasperation. “Oh, Emma, I know why you are so solemn right now! Didn’t you once tell me that nothing would make you happier than a bed of your own?”

She laughed out loud, wondering how she would manage a lifetime with the quixotic, outrageous Lord Ragsdale. One lifetime will never be enough , she decided, loving him with all her heart. “I did say that once.”

“You will have to share your bed again, Emma. I’m sorry, but I must insist.”