Page 7 of Lady Farah Creates a Scandal (The Season of Secrets #2)

When she woke, she’d better have a damn good explanation for how she’d ended up on his ship.

*

Farah was having the most wonderful dream. She was at sea, sailing into a future with… Her eyes flew open and she sat up. A damp cloth fell into her lap. Pain lanced through her skull. She gingerly touched her head and felt the cut on her forehead. She looked around. Where was she?

With a groan, she remembered being locked in Rockwell’s trunk.

She’d probably been knocked out when they dropped her.

Dear God. Was she on his ship? Of course she was.

She could feel the ship’s movements through the waves.

She glanced out the porthole. The sun was well up, and she was still fully dressed.

She saw a jug and glass by the bunk and eagerly reached for it to ease her parched throat.

After drinking a full glass of water, and then some, she swung her legs out of the bunk and attempted to stand.

Her head didn’t swim and her stomach was not rollicking.

But it did rumble from hunger. She wanted to eat, but she wasn’t sure what to do.

She relieved herself in the pot provided and then emptied it out the porthole.

She had a wash in the basin of cold water and felt better.

Then she carefully cracked open the cabin door and peered out. She could hear some men up on deck and the desire for fresh air overcame her. But when she stepped out of the cabin, a waft of cooking smells sent her mouth salivating and she headed to where the smells were coming from.

“Good morning, the patient is awake then?” the cook said.

“Yes. A tad worse for wear.” At his raised eyebrow, she added, “It’s a long story. My name is Farah. May I have something to eat? I missed dinner last night.”

“Farah! You can call me Rob. How’s a nice plate of eggs and ham and a cup of tea?” Her mouth watered even more. “You go to the stateroom and I’ll get young Nick to bring it down.”

When she looked around, he said, “The stateroom’s just further down the corridor at the stern.” Still confused he pointed right.

“I might get some air first.”

“I don’t advise that. Not good to be on deck unescorted. Lord Ware wouldn’t approve. Accidents happen. There is a balcony off the stateroom instead.”

Smiling, she did as directed and headed further down the corridor, adjusting her balance to the ship’s roll.

The door to the huge stateroom was open and as she entered, she spied the balcony at the rear.

The door out to that was open too. It beckoned and as soon as she stepped into fresh air, her head cleared further.

She could see land to the right and left.

They must be in the channel between England and France.

She took deep breaths and felt more herself.

The idea of having to face Rockwell was what upset her stomach, not the rolling waves. She heard cutlery being laid on the table so she returned inside.

Farah began studying the spacious stateroom. She let out an exclamation of delight. She was very impressed by the sprawling smart, masculine style.

She spied a small bookcase and made her way across the room to see what men like Rockwell liked to read when at sea.

To her surprise, there was an eclectic mix.

Books on exploration were mixed with philosophy and poetry.

Another, she quickly put back on the shelf when she opened it to see an etching of a couple in an intimate embrace.

The smell of coffee filled the passageway.

Young Nick arrived. Fresh scones and jam were on the table, and her eggs and ham smelled delicious.

If someone could bring her a cup of tea, she’d be in heaven.

Soon she was seated in front of a feast. Food was piled on the table along with her teapot.

A plate filled with eggs and ham was placed in front of her and she couldn’t wait.

She dug right in. The meal tasted better than anything she’d ever eaten.

She poured herself another cup of tea. She was finally beginning to feel human again with a bit of food in her stomach after a long sleep, although her head still ached.

She took another sip of her tea and was contemplating selecting a volume from the bookcase when Rockwell strolled in. He stopped when he spied her.

He looked all windswept, like a pirate. His linen shirt hung open at the neck and she could see a large expanse of chest. As he entered the stateroom for breakfast, Farah’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him.

Rockwell cut a striking figure, his dark hair swept back from his forehead, the morning light catching the subtle hints of silver at his temples.

His angular jaw was set with determination yet softened by the faint trace of a smile as he greeted her with a nod, his broad shoulders hinting at strength tempered by years of experience.

But it was the intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through her defenses and into the depths of her soul, that stirred something deep within Farah’s heart.

There was a quiet confidence about him, a sense of purpose that spoke of a man accustomed to command and respect.

Yet beneath the facade of authority lay a vulnerability, a gentleness that tugged at Farah’s heartstrings and left her longing to unravel the mysteries that lay hidden beneath his stoic exterior.

As Rockwell took his seat opposite her, pouring himself a cup of steaming tea with practiced ease, Farah couldn’t help but feel a tad of apprehension. He was far too calm.

“You, young lady, have some explaining to do.”

Don’t treat me like a child. Blackstone does that. Instead of verbalizing that, she clasped her hands together under the table. “I know this looks—bad—but I didn’t do this on purpose. I swear.”

He put down the delicate teacup that made his hands look enormous and with eyes glinting said, “So how on earth did you end up in my trunk?”

She bit her lip and knew she was in so much trouble. “Well, I happened to be in your bedchamber—”

“Happened to be? How does a lady, a young unmarried debutante end up in my bedchamber without an invitation?”

“I went to leave you another note. You read it and put it back in your journal.”

His brow furrowed. “You were in my room. When Wolf and I arrived?”

She nodded her head and swallowed.

“So you saw… Christ.” He rose from his chair throwing the napkin in his hand on the table. “Jesus Christ.” He swung round to face her, his cheeks had a reddish blush. “Where?”

She looked at the floor. “Behind the curtains.”

He paced the room. “And the trunk?”

“I waited for you to go in your dressing room and was crossing the room when your silly valet came back with some servants. I dived into the trunk and hid under the clothes, thinking I’d escape after they left, but they put more clothes on top of me and strapped it closed, then went to move it.

” She looked up at him. “Only it—I—made it too heavy and they dropped the trunk down the stairs. The last thing I remember is tumbling over and over and then waking up on the bunk.”

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “So you didn’t do this on purpose?”

“On purpose? Why would I—” Then her hand slapped over her mouth. She shook her head, her eyes going wide.

He slowly sat down across from her again. “You know your brother is probably looking frantically for you. He’ll be out of his mind.”

“I don’t think so. He went north to Lord Hampton’s fox hunting party in Yorkshire this morning. He’s not due back for four weeks.”

“But surely the staff will send a missive when you don’t come home.”

She shook her head again, wanting him to stop looking at her as if she were the enemy.

“Tiffany sent word to the house this morning that I’d become unwell with a cold and Mrs. Thompson who is paranoid about illness, readily agreed for me to stay with Lady Tiffany and Wolf.

I even organized for a trunk to be sent there.

” She didn’t tell Rockwell she’d done that in case she needed to flee from Lord Franklin.

“So maybe no one is concerned. Can’t we send Wolf a note when you pull into the nearest port.

Then I’ll simply take the stagecoach back to London. ”

“No. We can’t send them a note. We’re not stopping until Dublin. By then, someone might notice you’re missing.”

She was starting to get cross. “But I can’t sail with you to Ireland.”

“Well, you should have thought about that before invading my room and hopping into my trunk.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“What a mess. You do realize that it doesn’t matter if I take you to Ireland, Portsmouth, or Timbuktu.

You are utterly ruined. You wanted a scandal to scare off Franklin? Well, you’ve got it.”

“Could you drop me at Portsmouth? Maybe I can get back to London before anyone realizes I’ve been gone?”

“I’m not letting you go back to London unescorted and I don’t have time to accompany you. I must get to Ireland as soon as possible. I have a lead on where Lord Furoe might be. If I delay, he might—disappear again.”

“So, I’ll come with you to Ireland. I could tell my brother I was helping you.”

“The scandal will chase off Lord Franklin, I’m sure.”

Her eyes brightened. “That’s good, isn’t it?” At his look of disbelief, she added, “But Blackstone’s going to disown me.”

“He’ll do more than disown you. He’ll very likely challenge me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Once you explain that it was all my fault…” She stopped speaking when she saw the look on his face and noted his hands had formed fists. “It is my fault.”

He sat back in his chair and she noted the tiredness around his eyes. “Oh, I’m highly aware of that, but it makes no difference. Your brother will have you marching down the aisle with me faster than you can blink.”

She put her hand to her head, suddenly feeling quite faint. “No. I won’t allow it.”

“Oh, so suddenly you can stand up to your brother without having to hide in a trunk and cause a scandal. What are you going to do to stop your brother demanding I marry you, cause another scandal?”

Yes, she wanted to scream. I’ll run away before I let you sacrifice yourself for me. “Can we get a message to Wolf? Perhaps he could cover for me until I return. They could say I’m indisposed. Then my brother and the rest of society stays unaware until we get back to England.”

“And Franklin? Won’t he demand to see you if you are unwell?”

She hadn’t thought about that. “It will have to be something contagious so he’ll stay away but nothing too serious to have to alert my brother.”

“Any illness should be reported to your brother. Franklin will probably send a note—unless it’s ladies’ problems.”

Heat invaded Farah’s face. “That could work. I’ll write a note to send with your missive to Wolf. It will be for Franklin. That ought to ease his mind.” She sipped her tea. This was getting complicated.

Rockwell nodded. “And what am I to do with you while I’m in Ireland.”

She closed her eyes. Think. Then she smiled. “I could pretend to be Ashley. Your sister and I are both fair-haired. Who would know differently? What would be unusual about a brother and sister traveling together?”