Beloved Lies, Book 2 Read online

  Always before, his father seemed happy to see him, but something had changed. Donnan listened intently to his wife’s complaint and then slowly let his gaze rest on Jamie. A laird never backs down, Jamie knew, so exerting his authority seemed like the right thing to do. “Father, tell her she must obey me.”

  One of Laird Donnan MacGreagor’s eyebrows slowly rose and it stayed there for a very long time.

  “The supper room floor needs a good scrubbin’.” He heard his mother say. Jamie could hardly believe his ears. Was the future MacGreagor laird truly expected to scrub a floor?

  RMS MAURETANIA

  Blair was hungry by the time lunch was served. This time, the four of them opted for a dining salon one floor down so claymore could avoid David. It did not work.

  “Are you not everywhere?” Claymore asked as they were led to a table.

  “I have been especially assigned by the Captain to see to your specific needs,” David answered as he handed out the menus.

  Claymore huffed. “I see.”

  “The Captain asks if your party will kindly join him for dinner tomorrow night in the upstairs dining salon at eight pm.”

  “Tell the captain we accept,” Claymore said. It broadened the smile on David’s face even more, if that were possible. “Tell me, how many time zones have we crossed?”

  “Just one,” David answered, “but a second one is coming up shortly.”

  “I am feeling the change already,” said Abigail. “It is quite disorienting.”

  “I agree,” said Robin, “but Mother says we shall recover in a day or two.”

  It wasn’t long before Lady Forrestal located them. “My dear Robin, do you intend to spend the entire voyage with the Whitfields.”

  “Mother,” Robin whispered, “Blair has made the acquaintance of a viscount. Dare you take me away now?”

  “I see,” said Lady Forrestal. “Your stepfather asked that you join us, but I suppose we can do without you for a while longer.”

  “Mother,” said Robin, “Mrs. Whitfield is quite good at Gin Rummy. Are you in need of a fourth?”

  “Not that good,” Abigail countered.

  “You shall be most welcome to join me,” Lady Forrestal said. “I hope to learn all I can about Colorado.”

  “I assure you,” Claymore put in, “She knows all there is to know on that subject and many more.”

  Abigail shot her husband a distressed look. “Not all there is to know.”

  “At two in the lounge, then?” Lady Forrestal asked.

  “I am looking forward to it.” Abigail watched Lady Forrestal walk to a table in the back where her husband waited for her.

  “Miss Abigail, you did promise not to say anything,” Blair reminded her.

  “As you wish, dear,” Abigail said, “although I do think...”

  Blair quickly cut her off. “I believe I shall try the fresh fruit salad.”

  Robin had other things on her mind. “When do you think we shall see him again?”

  “The viscount?” Blair asked. “I think it unwise to care. Father says a lad prefers a challenge, and will take advantage of a lass who is too easily got.”

  Robin gasped. “You mean not look for him at all?”

  “Not if you are wise,” Blair answered.

  A little perplexed, at length Robin shrugged and decided on a sandwich. “Do you suppose he intentionally chose books he was certain I had already read?”

  “Knowing you would return them to the library?” Blair asked.

  Claymore chuckled. “The musings of young women where young men are concerned never ceases to entertain me.” He lowered his menu and noticed the viscount was seated right behind Robin. “Like bees to the honey,” he whispered. He decided on fish for lunch and just as he set his menu aside, Lord Ashton Hartsford moved his head allowing Claymore to see the woman seated across from him. Claymore raised an eyebrow but he said nothing on that subject. “Have you decided what to have yet, my love?”

  IT WAS ABIGAIL’S TURN to chaperone the girls, Claymore decided as he headed back to their cabin to take a short nap. Abigail had little to say about it, but she did not truly mind. She had an hour yet to wait until time to meet Lady Forrestal in the lounge for their game of Gin Rummy anyway.

  The library was a pleasant room with plenty of sunlight and the usual bookshelves lining the walls. Comfortable sofas and chairs were next to end tables with lamps offering still more light, and a beautiful tapestry depicted a jungle with a lioness and her cubs, hung on a wall above three writing desks. At one of the desks, the man with the jingling coins sat furiously dipping his steel pen in ink, and writing something on a sheet of paper.

  While Robin put her borrowed books on a desk to be put away by the library steward, Blair and Abigail found a place to sit that offered three chairs instead of the usual two. Blair put her leather-bound MacGreagor history book in her lap and sighed. “I tire of carrying this, and there is little reading to be done with Robin around.”

  “Pretend to take a nap,” Abigail suggested. “That is what Claymore does.”

  Blair giggled. “Truly?”

  “Constantly,” she whispered, just now remembering they were in a library. “Give it to me, and I shall give it to Lucy to put in your room.”

  “Lucy is your maid too?”

  “Your father requested the best maid and steward on this ship, therefore you and I shall share Lucy. I like her, do you not?”

  Blair lifted her eyes upward. “I should have guessed father would directly talk to the captain. Did he say he told the captain to keep an eye out for the duchess?”

  Abigail abruptly put a hand over her heart. “The duchess? My dear, the mere mention of the woman causes my heart to race. Is Cameron not truly convinced the duchess is dead?”

  “If he does not believe it, then he is lying.”

  “And if he is lying, it is because he loves you.”

  Blair smiled. “Of that one thing, I am more certain than of any other. His Grace, Cameron MacGreagor, Duke of Glenartair, truly loves me. If he beseeched the captain, he has beseeched others and therefore, I am certain we shall be well protected from all manner of evil here, and in London.”

  Abigail slowly looked around the library to see if she could discover anyone suspicious. She saw nothing odd about any of them. “Well, if your father did, then I am comforted. A lady in your circumstance should be well guarded, and heaven knows I hope never to see your mother again.”

  “As do I.” Blair watched the man at the desk fold his note and then hurriedly leave the room.

  “You find him interesting?” Abigail asked following Blair’s gaze.

  “Not particularly. If anything, I think him a little odd.”

  “Have you been introduced?”

  “Not yet.”

  “His name is Mr. Braxton Dedrick.”

  “You know him?” Blair asked

  “Not yet. When I dropped my kerchief he picked it up for me.”

  “Miss Abigail, you dinna pull that old ‘drop the kerchief’ trick on him, did you?”

  Abigail pretended to be appalled. “You forget, I am not in need of a husband. Lucy happened to be there, so I asked. She hears he often sails from New York to London, and is quite well known.”

  “I see. I believe Lucy shall be most handy to have around.” Blair stopped talking when she noticed Robin coming back.

  Robin carefully smoothed the back of her skirt before she sat, and then kept her back straight and her shoulders squared. “Mother says I look like a rose worthy of picking when I sit. What do you say, Mrs. Whitfield?”

  Abigail wrinkled her forehead a little. “I am not one to speak on the subject for I was not brought up to be a fine lady, but I say you look a bit tortured. Is that how a lady is supposed to...”

  “There he is,” Robin interrupted. She tried not to appear too breathless at the sight of the viscount. Even so, she watched his every move as he walked to a book shelf and began to look for something to read.�
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  “Too predictable,” Blair softly muttered.

  “Too what?” Abigail asked.

  Robin covered the side of her mouth with her gloved hand. “And there he is too, Lord Jaminson O'Dell, the richest man on the ship.”

  “I highly doubt that,” Abigail scoffed.

  “The richest unmarried man on the ship, then,” Robin corrected.

  Lord Jaminson Cleary O'Dell seemed not to care which book it was. He simply grabbed one, found a place to sit on the opposite side of the room, set his top hat on the table next to his chair, and began to read. To Blair, he seemed far too young to be as wealthy as Robin claimed. If she had to, she guessed he was no more than twenty-three or twenty-four years of age. Her attention was drawn to the unusual shape of his sideburns. They were thin, and turned toward his chin at the bottom of his jaws. She preferred a clean-shaven man like her father, but with his short, dark hair parted on the side, she supposed Lord Jaminson O'Dell was as pleasant looking as any other man. The instant his eyes met hers, she looked away.

  “Who is too predictable?” Robin asked finally.

  “The viscount,” Blair answered. “We guessed correctly, for here he is in the library.”

  “What is so wrong with being predictable?” Robin wanted to know.

  “My Claymore was as predictable as clockwork,” Abigail said. “I met him...oh, never mind where I met him. What I mean to say is, he came to the same place to see me every day until I agreed to marry him.”

  “Aye, but I prefer a lad I cannae predict,” said Blair.

  “What fun would that be?” Robin muttered. “I hope...I dearly hope that the viscount shall be predictable enough to be around us constantly.” She opened her book and tried to concentrate on the first page.

  “I imagine he shall be in any case.” Blair glanced around the room again, noticed three more men who did not seem as interested in reading as in watching her. One was old enough to be her father and the other two did not look interesting at all. “The crows are in the cornfield,” she whispered.

  “Indeed they are,” Abigail agreed as she too looked around.

  “This book is boring too,” Robin announced after only reading the first page. She got up, laid that book on the table with the other two to be put away, and went to a shelf farthest away from where the viscount was.

  “She is wise not to pursue him,” Abigail whispered. She watched to see if Lord Ashton Hartsford would make his way toward Robin. So far, he had not made a move.

  Blair whispered back, “She is wiser than she appears, I think.”

  Abigail nodded. “With Lady Forrester for a mother, she likely has to be.”

  Both Abigail and Blair had their eyes on him when the viscount moved down the row of books – in the opposite direction from Robin. A bit disappointed, Robin soon came back without a book. “I have decided not to read just now anyway. Might we take another walk on the deck instead?”

  “I hear music,” said Blair. “Shall we not see from where it comes?” She led the way out of the library, and followed the sound to the lounge, where a young woman was entertaining her friends on the piano.

  Abigail quickly found a place near the back of the room where they could sit together and whispered, “She is quite good, is she not?”

  “She is,” both Robin and Blair agreed. In silence, they listened to three different works by Beethoven, and although they could not see the pianist, sitting in the back allowed them to see who had followed them. Interestingly, the viscount had not, but the wealthy Lord Jaminson O'Dell had.

  “Way, way too predictable,” Blair said under her breath.

  At least Braxton Dedrick was not there jingling the coins in his pocket to distract her. She did wonder why Mr. Dedrick left the library in such a hurry and supposed he went to send a cable to someone. He looked quite disturbed, which disturbed her, especially since he apparently disapproved of any association she might have with the viscount. Then again, it was not his business.

  When the concert was over, Abigail stood up and took charge of Blair’s book “I must check on Claymore, and it is almost time to play Gin Rummy. Do try your best not to fall overboard.”

  Blair giggled. “We promise.”

  WHEN THEY WALKED OUT of the double doors, Blair and Robin were surprised to find an unusual gathering of men on the port side of the deck. One man was shouting, and another shouting back, but there were so many in front of Blair, she could not see a thing. The two girls quickly went to the back of the men and Blair thought to squeeze her way in, but the men were too closely gathered. Instead, she rose up on tiptoe. That did not work either.

  A man standing behind Blair whispered, “Perhaps you could see more standing on the bench?”

  When she turned to look, she was face-to-face with Lord Jaminson O'Dell. Blair nodded, grabbed Robin’s hand, and hurried to the bench. She lifted her skirt, thinking she could just step up, but it was too high. Suddenly, she felt Lord O'Dell’s hands go around her waist and soon she was hoisted up. He helped Robin do the same, and then stood nearby in case one of them started to fall.

  Robin caught her breath, “It is the viscount who argues.” She strained to see over the head of the tall man directly in front of her and it did not help that his top hat made him even taller.

  “Dare you call me a liar?” the viscount shouted.

  “Who might the other lad be?” Blair asked.

  “Braxton Dedrick,” Lord O'Dell answered. She was surprised to hear that and moved to get a better view of him. Sure enough, it was Mr. Dedrick and this time he did not have his hands in his pocket jingling coins. Instead, his fists were doubled and he looked like he was ready to either protect himself or throw the first punch.

  “I do call you a liar,” Mr. Dedrick shouted, “and you know very well what I am talking about.”

  The viscount gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as well. “If we were on land, Sir, I would call you out!”

  “If we were on land, I would accept.” The expression on Mr. Dedrick’s face looked just as unwavering as the one on the viscount’s. “Take care, for I shall not abide your kind of dishonesty – not on this voyage!” Mr. Dedrick turned, made his way through the crowd and disappeared around the corner.

  “Mr. Dedrick should not have called the viscount a liar. It is most unseemly,” Robin scoffed as she let Lord O'Dell help her down.

  “Perhaps he is a liar,” said Blair. She got a better look at his odd sideburns as Lord O'Dell helped her down, bowed, and walked away.

  “Blair, I forgot to curtsy,” Robin whispered.

  “I doubt he shall say anything. Have you noticed how he seems to be right behind us at every turn?”

  “He does, does he not? Mother would be most pleased should he choose me, but I am not expecting it,” said Robin. “She prays he shall ask me to dance this evening, at which time I am to dazzle him.” Robin watched as an angry viscount walked past without noticing either one of them. “Poor man.”

  “I say we take a walk,” Blair suggested. “I am most curious and perhaps there is more to learn about him just by listening.”

  “Yet, we must be on our guard not to let a man approach us without an introduction.”

  Exasperated, Blair looked up at the fluffy white clouds in the sky. “I shall never manage to get on with all the rules. Lord O'Dell just approached without an introduction, and we dinna prevent him. Who made up all these rules?”

  “Some ghastly woman wrote a book, I suppose, and now we are all taught to abide by it. I cannot think why either, but Mother says it is expected of a young lady in want of a wealthy husband.”

  “Then I am excused, for a wealthy husband is last on my list of wants.”

  The crowd had mostly dispersed, yet there were small groups of people discussing the confrontation. Unfortunately, they stopped talking as soon as Blair and Robin got close enough to hear.

  “We must be far more underhanded in our spying,” Blair whispered. She pointed to the Ver
andah Café. Once an open air café with tables, chairs, and benches that lined the wall, it was now enclosed to protect passengers from tempestuous weather. The small room was decorated with potted plants and small trees, and a gloved steward waited to take orders for drinks or snacks. Robin got in line behind Blair and fortunately, the two men in front of them did not notice and kept talking.

  “I have never seen him before either,” said one. “Of course, everyone knows who Braxton Dedrick is – everyone of any influence. He is the most prominent conveyancer in London, handling the deed transfer of many a great estate when the lord and lady pass. If Braxton does not know you, you are not worth knowing.”

  Blair was impressed, and since Mr. Dedrick warned her to stay clear of the viscount, she believed he was the one justified in his accusations. Once the two men in front of them moved away, Blair ordered orange juice for them both, and then she and Robin went back to sit on the bench.

  “What did you hear?” Robin wanted to know. She took a sip of her juice, found it a little less sweet than she expected, and made a face.

  “He said Mr. Dedrick is a lawyer who knows everyone of any importance in London. If you are in the market for a good husband, an alliance with him might be most prudent.”

  “The man who accosted the viscount? I hardly think him worth knowing at all.”

  “Robin, I am not so certain we should associate with the viscount.”

  “Because Mr. Dedrick thinks him a liar? It is not enough to dissuade me.” Robin had something else on her mind and paused before she bluntly said, “I wonder, do you object to him because the viscount approached me first and not you?”

  Blair found her question remarkable. “Of course not, I hope they all prefer you.”

  “Forgive me. I simply needed to make certain.”

  “Perhaps you are right, though – I have judged the viscount too hastily. It is just that I wish for you the best of all husbands, not just any husband who has money. An unworthy husband shall make you miserable in the end.”