Page 48 of The Baron’s Reluctant Bride (Marriage Mart Scandals #4)

“Help! Save us, Captain! Help!”

Anthony Farraway jolted awake from his sleep with a loud gasp.

His breaths were shallow and rapid, his fingers clutching the sheets on both sides of him with his knuckles almost turning white.

He blinked once, and then twice, as if trying to be certain he was truly awake.

Sweat dripped down the sides of his face, down to his neck and then lower, to his sweat-slicked night shirt.

The spot on his bed which he previously laid on was soaked with perspiration.

His room was dark. Almost as dark as that one night three years ago that still haunted him till this day. The horror plagued him when he was both awake and deep in sleep. Anxiety burgeoned in his stomach; his throat clogged with an increasing lump.

Anthony forced himself to swallow. Even though he was awake now, the image of that night’s setting, the terrified, desperate cries of his crew members were as vivid as they were in the nightmare he’d just awoken from.

Calm yourself, Anthony.

But try as he might, it was indeed difficult to be composed.

Not when the sight of his sinking ship and drowning crew lingered vividly in his mind.

Not when he could still see the terror on the faces of his men and they struggled against the ferocious ocean waves.

The sea was not kind to them, drawing out desperate cries from them as it swallowed them.

A heavy feeling weighed on Anthony’s heart as he replayed that night over and over. His inability to save every single one of them saddled his heart with guilt. Every night, and every day.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes moving through the dark room as his breathing slowed down. Outside, dawn approached, slowly but surely—its promise hanging on the horizon.

Feeling constricted by his own bed, he threw his legs down and stood to his feet.

He stumbled to the sideboard across from his bed where a glass tray held his alcohol and two glass cups.

He picked up the decanter of brandy and without a second thought, helped himself to a generous amount of it.

Tilting his head backwards, he took a hearty swig, wincing at the burn he felt in his throat.

The warm, smooth taste of it was enough to ground him back to the present.

He stood by the table, and continued taking controlled sips in the hopes that it would help him fully calm his nerves.

He glanced at his bed, imagining what would happen if he went back to it and tried to sleep. He decided it would be better if he stayed awake. It was only a few hours till it was morning after all.

He strode to his bedside and picked up a book from the bedside table. It was one of his favourite books on travel and adventure. It would have to suffice at keeping him occupied.

By the time the morn came, Anthony was feeling greatly improved. He made his way towards the breakfast room, overhearing the chatter between his mother, sister, and cousin even before he had walked in.

“Mother.” He acknowledged in greeting as he crossed the door’s threshold and strolled into the room. The aroma of freshly baked bread and coffee hit his nostrils first, just as the chatter died down.

His mother, The Dowager Countess, Lady Julianna Farraway, turned to her son, a proud smile brimming at her lips.

“Anthony.” Her smile widened as he sauntered towards her and placed a light kiss on her cheek.

“Good morning, Mother,” he said.

“Did you have a good night’s rest?” she asked.

Anthony dithered for half a moment, but—not wanting to worry her—quickly gave a brief nod. “Certainly, mother.”

His younger sister, Blanche Farraway, narrowed her gaze at him. “The slight dark circles underneath your eyes would beg to differ, brother.”

Anthony pursed his lips and cast a glance at his cousin and dear friend, Captain Henry Barlow, who sat across from his sister. Henry’s eyes held an understanding that most wouldn’t comprehend, but Anthony was grateful for it.

“I’m sure he was simply up earlier than he had to be,” Henry responded, his gaze on his cousin. “Reading, I presume. Perhaps, those travel books that he fancies.”

Anthony took his seat across from his mother and to the right of his cousin. “Henry is correct, mother. It is no secret how much I enjoy the silence of the early morn and find it the best time to read.”

Julianna didn’t think too much of her son’s response. “Very well. But I implore you to prioritise your rest more than you read. One must be careful to give due importance to that which deserves it.”

Anthony cleared his throat. “Certainly, mother.”

He hoped that they would continue their chatter without him, but seeing as the tension in the room grew palpable, he felt responsible for the awkwardness that ensued. They carried on eating, but in tensed silence; the only sounds coming from their plates and the silverware they held.

“Fine weather today, yes?” Henry shifted his eyes from his aunt to his cousins. His wry comment might have been a dull attempt to soothe the mood, but at least it was something. “I imagine today would be a good day for a horse ride.”

“Or a promenade,” Lady Farraway said, casting a smile at her son. “I’m sure the young ladies of the ton would think so too. It would be a wonderful time to socialise. Do you not agree, Anthony?”

Anthony grimaced. “Horse riding sounds more appealing to me, mother. I’m sure the young ladies of the ton would not miss me much.

” His eyes met his sister’s, and he caught the pitiful look in them.

A few years ago, Blanche would barely cast a glance over him with such a perceptive air.

Now, he feared she worried for him more than she should.

“There isn’t anything to miss if you barely show your face in society,” Blanche argued, as she brought her cup to her lips.

She would never understand, Anthony often thought. He took a piece of grape into his mouth. The only person seated at this table who would understand to some degree was his friend and cousin, Henry.

The now Captain had been aboard on the ship that had irrevocably changed Anthony’s life. He had survived the shipwreck and now, understanding the weight of responsibility that rested on a Captain’s shoulders, he knew how much that night had deeply affected Anthony. How much it still affected him.

Anthony’s eyes flickered to Henry, as he reached out for the coffee pot. His cousin held a somewhat solemn gaze.

“The Durendale house party is approaching,” Lady Farraway announced, her voice carrying a hint of excitement in it. “It is the talk of the ton. I believe that you are fully aware that Her Grace is known for her extravagant parties. I have no doubt that this one would be one for the books.”

“All her parties are for the books, Mother,” Blanche put in.

“Precisely my point, dearest.” Lady Farraway inclined her head to her son. “We’ve received an invitation, and we must honour it. Our family must be in attendance. Blanche and I shall visit the modiste to acquire new gowns for the party.”

Anthony gave his mother a tight-lipped smile. “I am quite certain you all will have a wonderful time at the party, Mother.”

A frown formed between Lady Farraway’s brows. “Would you not be in attendance?”

Anthony took a sip from his cup before answering. “I fear I could not, and I had presumed you were aware of that.”

“I was not,” she replied firmly. She studied him for a moment and then exhaled an exasperated sigh.

“Anthony, need I explain to you how important it is that we attend this party together as a family? You are seldom seen at social gatherings. I know that you must believe they are merely frivolous events but they are by far more than that. As you are very well aware of that. It does not speak well of us as a family if the head of our family gives no honour and recognition to social connections.” Her voice was laced with hope as she went on.

“Dearest, I only want what is best for you and this family. The Ton would certainly speak, and that would not do. It is past time you re-entered society. You’ve been away for far too long; shielding yourself as though you are hiding. ”

Anthony’s jaw tightened and his arm stiffened at her last word.

As much as he didn’t want to argue with her, he also didn’t want to raise her hopes.

He had never found much pleasure in participating in such diversions and social gatherings as it was not to his particular liking.

He would rather stay at home and bury his attention and time in a book or even go horseback riding.

Anything, would be by far better than socialising.

“This is London. Any right-standing member of the ton should socialise amongst society. It is standard practice,” were his mother’s words most of the time when they spoke on the matter.

The Earl’s lips parted to speak but out of the corner of his eyes, he caught his sister’s look.

Her pleading eyes glowed with concern, silently urging him not to disagree with their mother.

Anthony stiffened and silence stretched from both ends of the room.

Blanche always had a way of disarming his fortress of defence and causing him to reconsider his firm intentions. A deep sigh left his lips.

This was the point he struggled with the most in his life.

Being an Earl, having responsibilities to his family, to society, to his family’s estate—all of it reminded him of his responsibilities as Captain back in the day.

Everyone expected so much of him and as noble as his title was, he was constantly weighed down by it.

He dared not voice his inner thoughts, but sometimes, he even felt inadequate in fulfilling his duties to his family.

Beside him, Henry cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to him.