The Duke Before Christmas - Bianca Blythe Page 0,19
when he asked a woman to dance and the inevitable stilted conversation.
Perhaps when he returned to London he should settle the matter. Suddenly, the world felt very dreary.
Damnation. He refused to be in this tiny cabin and contemplate his future.
“Let’s go on the deck, Niles.”
Niles shuddered. “And be closer to the water?”
Colin glanced at the wall. “I believe we’re quite near the water now.”
Niles swallowed hard and followed Colin’s gaze. “On the other side?”
Colin nodded gravely, and Niles rose rapidly.
“Yes, perhaps we can acquaint ourselves with the deck,” Niles said.
“Splendid,” Colin said brightly.
Niles cleared his throat. “You will of course require more clothes.”
A miserable feeling descended upon Colin. “More?”
“Indeed.” Niles’s voice remained firm. “The wind is liable to be even stronger when it has no buildings to block its speed. We shall be abandoning civilization.”
“We mustn’t get overdramatic. We’re merely on the water.”
“There is nothing overdramatic about leaving society.” Niles placed a thick hat over Colin’s head and wrapped a scarf about his cravat. Finally, he helped Colin into his greatcoat.
“One would think we were in Scotland,” Colin said.
When Colin strode up the steps to the deck, a blustery wind greeted him, and he was suddenly grateful for Niles’s guidance, even if did appear unreasonably smug.
Colin suspected this was really more of a cargo ship as most of the people were sailors. Colin strode over the deck. No doubt islands had a habit of requiring supplies, even in December.
The ship had not yet exited the Thames. Colin took in the murky brown landscape as he strode toward the railing. Perhaps, in summer, verdant grass and wildflowers decorated the shores. But, now, the area was bare, framed by dark clouds flitting over the gray sky. Colin shivered.
Sandridge better be bloody grateful.
Niles’s sharp inhale beside him drew his own eyes to where two women were sitting on a bench.
Colin spotted the Goddess quickly—one of the women had a large bosom, not obscured much even by her frockcoat. But it was the woman beside her who drew Colin’s attention.
It was the woman from the library. The light in the library may have been dim, but he recognized the curve of those cheeks.
What on earth was she doing here?
Last week she’d been crying, telling him some sad tale about needing a husband. And now...
He stared at her.
“I don’t think they require posting the banns in advance in Guernsey,” Colin said.
Niles stared at him. “You think I should propose?”
“What?” Colin blinked, then it occurred to him Niles was referring to the blue-eyed woman with the considerable bosom. He smirked.
“Because that would be far too fast,” Niles said decisively. “I’m surprised you suggested it.”
Colin shrugged. “I suppose you could stick with introducing yourself.”
Niles furrowed his brow.
“As a first step,” Colin added. He wouldn’t mind seeing Niles propose. He wondered whether Niles would kneel, even if it meant tarnishing his trousers.
“I-I couldn’t do that,” Niles said. “It wouldn’t be seemly. One can’t simply start speaking to strange women.”
Colin supposed this was the reason Niles had never spoken about any woman before. He took Niles’s arm and dragged him toward the women. He grinned, and it occurred to him he wasn’t only amused to see Niles sudden besotted behavior. It would be quite nice to speak with the woman in the library again.
CHAPTER TEN
“DO YOU KNOW THOSE MEN?” Jonesie asked. “They’re glancing in our direction.”
Two men strolled toward Portia and Jonesie. Well, one of the men strolled toward them, and the other man dragged the other. It was a curious method of ambling. The men were clothed in warm woolen hats, mittens, and scarves, as if in the midst of a blizzard.
“I most certainly do not,” Portia said.
No doubt, these were the strange men teachers at Portia’s finishing school had always warned everyone about. She turned abruptly toward the view and pretended that hills devoid of any grass and wildflowers were fascinating to behold.
“I didn’t expect you to go to Guernsey.” An amaretto voice floated toward her, and despite her best instincts and all of the wisdom of her finishing school, she swung around.
She stared at a blond-haired man. His eyes glimmered, and his lips twitched.
She scrunched her forehead together. “Your voice is familiar.”
The man yanked his scarf from around his head and shot a furious look at his companion. “I told you that scarfs were unnecessary.”
And then Portia recognized him. “You’re the footman!”
“Indeed,” the man said, and the man beside him sputtered and coughed.
The footman slapped his companion’s back. “Mustn’t choke, Niles.”
“Very well,” the footman’s friend said.