Page 2 of Entertaining the Earl (Vows in Vauxhall Gardens #2)

T he sea was not particularly rough, yet still Colin’s stomach churned. The passage back to Britain was long and arduous, and if he had forgotten why he had not made the return journey in many years, this voyage was a stark reminder.

As much as he loved to travel, his body was not built for sea voyaging. He certainly would never have made it in the Navy, for even short journeys made him cast up the contents of his stomach.

But there was never going to be any need for him to join the Navy. He had always been wealthy and titled, and now that he was the Earl of Bourne, his position in society was set.

He just had to come back and take it.

“Do you need anything, my lord?” asked one of the lads who was always running around the ship fetching and carrying.

Colin shook his head.

“No, thank you,” he managed to say, just before turning back to the sea and gripping tightly to the edge of the boat.

If he was to be sick, he would rather nobody saw him.

It had been seven years since he had last returned to Britain’s shores and two years since he had gained the title of ‘earl’.

His father had already been long dead by the time Colin heard the news all the way in the Americas, and there had seemed no reason for him to hurry back.

The estate was in good hands, with the staff his father had employed keeping things running smoothly .

Then came a letter from his aunt, informing him that the very capable man of business who had run his father’s affairs had died, and she was concerned for the future of the Bourne estates. That letter had made him rethink.

He couldn’t stay abroad forever. He was an Englishman—he needed to step up to the responsibility. As much as he wished he could stay away.

And so, there he was, hating every moment aboard this ship, sailing back to London for that quaint tradition of society’s Season.

His aunt was, it seemed, concerned that his reputation had been damaged by being away for so very long, and so she insisted that being seen in London, before returning to deal with the estates, was the right thing to do.

The boat lurched, and Colin’s grip grew tighter, his knuckles going white.

There was no sight of land yet. He had lost track of how many days they had been at sea and could only hope that there were not too many more to go.

And then, he vowed, he would never set foot on a boat again.

He would accept that he would only ever see the shores of England, for traveling this way was truly intolerable.

Whether he would remember that vow once his feet were safely on dry land was an entirely different matter.

He had left London at the tender age of eighteen, intent on seeing the world—and that he had certainly done.

From the mountains of Europe to the Great Lakes of North America to the caves of the Mediterranean.

He had seen and wondered at so much of the world—and yet what he was returning to was a complete unknown.

The London Season. At eighteen, it had not been something he was interested in. He had gone out and drunk and gambled with his friends, but he had avoided balls and other society functions where he would be expected to pay court to some debutante.

But if he was going to take his place in society, the Season was where he needed to be.

He supposed he would need a wife, too—for the earldom required an heir.

But there was no rush. He was only five-and-twenty.

This year, he simply wished to reacquaint himself with London and how things were done.

He did not wish to make a fool of himself, upon his return to society.

After all, the expectations of an earl were rather different in England than they were on the Continent or even farther afield.

“Dinner is served, my lord,” another lad said, but even the thought of food made Colin nauseous.

“I do not think—” he began, but then the rocking motion of the boat became too much for him to handle, and he cast up what little he’d eaten for lunch over the side of the boat.

The lad tutted sympathetically and then went about his business, leaving the sorrowful earl alone.

Things would be better on dry land. His aunt had arranged for him to stay with a family she knew, so that he would not enter the Season completely unprepared.

He wasn’t sure how much he wanted company every single day, but he knew his aunt meant well.

And besides, it would be rather less daunting to return to a ballroom in the company of people who regularly attended such places, rather than to walk in as a titled, tanned stranger and face the inevitable whispers and gossip alone.

When he had left England’s shores, he had been the son of an earl with an unpalatable reputation. He was returning as the new earl, and with little known about him, he was sure the gossips would be focusing on his father’s disreputable behavior.

There had been no love lost between Colin and his father. The two had barely known each other. But nonetheless, Colin was the Earl of Bourne now—and he wanted to do it right.

It was hard to imagine what England could have to offer him, however, after everything he had seen and done during his travels.