Six weeks later
“O
h,
please,
Evelyn. Just this once. I need you. You must come with me.”
Evelyn stood in the lobby of the Royal Marine Hotel on the Isle of Wight only a few hours after she’d checked in, and could not help but smile. It was not the first time in her life she had been asked to do something like this—something horrendously and unspeakably naughty. This was in fact very familiar.
Yet it was different, too, because she was not the same person she had once been. It wasn’t just the way she looked or was dressed—which was
very fashionable, she had to confess, in her fine emerald green
godet
skirt and matching jacket with pleated, puff sleeves. She felt different on the inside, too, knowing at last what she truly wanted and deserved, and knowing also that she was strong enough to go after it, without fear of the consequences.
“No, Penelope. I won’t go with you.” She pulled on her gloves and started walking to the door.
Penelope followed. “Why not?”
“Because we’re not children anymore, and you’re just going to get yourself into trouble.”
Penelope trotted quickly behind Evelyn, who had exited the hotel and was now crossing the street to walk along the waterfront toward the Royal Yacht Squadron.
“It’s easy for you to say such things when you’re so happy with your life. You have every bachelor in En gland either proposing to you or planning on it the next time he sees you. But don’t you remember what it was like before, when you were only just recently out of mourning and came here in search of a husband? That is
me
now, Evelyn. I’ve been alone for almost thirteen months, and I need excitement. I must have love. I cannot go on like this. I die a little more each day. I can’t be alone.”
Evelyn stopped and faced her friend. “First of all, you have three beautiful children who love you, so you are not alone, and secondly—there is
nothing
wrong
with being alone. It might even be good for you.”
“But this will be fun,” she pleaded.
Evelyn started walking again. “Not for me. And surely you can think of better ways to meet nice gentlemen than what you are proposing.”
“It wouldn’t take long,” Penelope said. “All we’d have to do is row out a little ways and drop the oar. The earl would have no choice but to come to our rescue.”
They reached the gate. “No, I am not doing that. Just be yourself, Penelope. You don’t need plots and schemes.”
Evelyn entered the back lawn of the yacht club and stopped just inside. All at once, her belly filled with excitement. So much had happened here not so long ago, but it seemed like ages, for she no longer believed her only attractive quality was her fortune. She now knew she had much more to offer.
To the right man, of course.
Taking a deep breath, she looked around at the guests on the lawn—the same faces from last time, sitting in the same wicker chairs, spinning parasols. Then she spotted Lord and Lady Radley, who waved at her from the other side of the garden. They immediately came to greet her.
“Evelyn, my dear,” Lady Radley said. “It is so good to see you. And this must be your friend we’ve heard so much about.”
“Yes. Please allow me to present Mrs. Penelope Richardson.”
They all shook hands, then discussed the upcoming race.
“It will be very interesting,” Lord Radley said. “What do you think Evelyn? Will you bet on the
Orpheus
?”
She felt those exhilarating butterflies return. “Lord Martin is indeed a master on the water,” she replied. “We’ve all been witness to that.”
“Indeed we have,” Lady Radley agreed, and her husband smiled affectionately at her.
He led them to the other side of the lawn for a better view of the boats in the Solent, and raised his old-fashioned quizzing glass. “Have you seen her yet? She just came in a few minutes ago, sailing at a fast clip. Do you remember last time, Evelyn? Remember how we thought Lord Martin was going to collide with the
Britannia
?”
She smiled at the memory. “Yes, but he was in complete control the entire time, wasn’t he?”
“Most definitely.”
Penelope clicked open her ivory fan and fluttered it in front of her face. “They just came in, you say?”
“Yes,” Lord Radley replied. “They should be landing at the Squadron steps in a matter of minutes.”
Penelope’s eyes flashed with mischief. “Then we
should go down and greet them, don’t you think?”
“I believe I’ll remain here,” Evelyn replied, opening her parasol and lifting it over her head to block the sun.
Lady Radley raised an eyebrow and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “You still prefer to be the challenging one, I see?”
Evelyn felt her cheeks flush with color and gave Lady Radley a confident smile. “I have the advantage of knowing what lifts his sails,” she whispered.
“Well,” Penelope said, “I think I’ll go down and greet the champions. They’ve not lost their title
yet
, and deserve a warm welcome.”
“Indeed they do,” Lord Radley said. “Shall we go down, dearest?”
His wife grinned flirtatiously at him and linked her arm through his. Evelyn felt a warm glow move through her, for since the accident, they had embraced this second chance at life and rediscovered their love for each other.
The others left the garden, and Evelyn, now alone, turned around and saw Sophia and James standing over by the fence. They spotted her and waved, so she crossed the lawn to go and speak to them.
Martin stepped onto the landing stage at the Squadron and looked up at the crowd gathered on the Parade, most of them women.
“Look who I see there,” Spence said, pointing. “Ahoy there, Lord Radley!”
“Ahoy to you, too, son!” Radley replied.
Martin patted Spence on the shoulder, and together they strode up the steps to a great round of applause. He stopped at the top and gave them what they wanted—a great, sweeping bow—and wondered with a resigned sigh if Cowes would ever change.
“We have our bets on the
Orpheus,
” Lord Radley said, shaking Martin’s hand when he reached them. “It’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, sir. You look well.”
“You were abroad, I hear,” the baron said. “Did you do any racing, or go looking for new design innovations?”
“No,” Martin casually replied. “I didn’t really have a chance.”
Lord Radley directed his gaze to Spence. “And what about you, my boy? What have you been doing with yourself since we saw you last?”
“I’ve done nothing but wait for this day to come, so I could get out on the water again and claim that trophy for another year. Can’t stand to be on dry land.”
Martin nudged him in the ribs. “Sometimes I think you were born a duck.”
At that moment, a tall, fair-haired woman stepped forward.
“Gracious,” Lord Radley said. “Pardon our man
ners. Lord Martin and Lord Spencer, may we present Mrs. Penelope Richardson? I believe you may have met before, years ago when you both attended Eton? Mrs. Richardson’s parents reside in the Windsor countryside.”
Martin’s gaze fell upon the attractive woman before him, her smooth flaxen hair pulled into a loose knot on top of her head, her gown and hat the color of a wild pink rose, her lips moist and full. She smiled alluringly and offered him her gloved hand.
Ah yes, he remembered…
“Lord Martin, is it really you?” she asked. “I had no idea we would meet again under these circumstances. You are the reigning champion of Cowes, I understand. I will look forward to seeing you race tomorrow.”
She had not changed a bit. She still spoke in the same melodious way. He remembered also how she used to follow him around and was always pretending to bump into him unexpectedly. And of course he could not forget how she had snuck into his dormitory with Evelyn that unfortunate night.
All at once, his heart turned over in his chest. He glanced over her head, searching the faces in the crowd. He had not known what to expect when he had set sail for Cowes the day before. He didn’t know whether she would be here or not.
He did not see her.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Richardson.”
She gave him a coy smile.
“Can I interest you both in some fresh chowder?” Lord Radley asked. “The aroma was most enticing out on the back lawn. Would you ladies mind?”
“Not at all, darling,” his wife replied. “Penelope and I will join Evelyn out back.”
His gaze shot to Lady Radley. “Mrs. Wheaton is here?”
“Yes, she arrived this morning.”
But she had not come down with the others to greet him just now. He wondered if she would even wish to speak to him at all. He could not blame her if she didn’t, not after the way he’d treated her all those weeks ago, then left the country without a word. He owed her an apology at the very least. That was certain.
“She didn’t want to miss the race tomorrow,” Lord Radley added.
“She’ll be cheering for the
Orpheus,
I presume?” Spence asked.
“Of course,” Lady Radley replied with a cheerful countenance. “She has a deep affection for the vessel that came to our rescue. And none of us could possibly cheer for that ungrateful Mr. Hatfield after the things he said about you, Lord Martin.”
Lord Radley acknowledged the comment with a nod, then laid a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Come, come. We mustn’t think of that. You boys must tell me some stories, and I’ll tell you everything I’ve heard about your competition.”
“That sounds like a perfect plan,” Spence said.
They made their way to the club and found a table in the dining room. Their coffee had just been poured when Sir Lyndon appeared in the doorway and spotted them. He waved and immediately came over to their table. “Gentlemen, I’m glad to see you’ve finally arrived. May I join you?”
Martin gestured toward a chair. “Certainly. How the devil have you been?”
“I’ve been keeping busy as always, and I hear you’ve been hard at it as well. You just returned from America?”
“I stepped off the ship only four days ago.”
“Well, I hope you are well rested after such a lengthy voyage. You’ll need your wits about you tomorrow, I dare say.”
Spence sipped his coffee. “To race against the
Endeavor II
? I hardly think so. Not with Hatfield at the wheel. The bumbling idiot couldn’t navigate his way out of a bathtub, not even sober, which is a rare occurrence.”
Sir Lyndon glanced uneasily at them. “But you
have
heard…”
“Heard what?” Martin asked.
Lord Radley’s eyebrows lifted.
Sir Lyndon hesitated a moment, then spoke quietly. “Hatfield knows he doesn’t have the brains or skills to beat you in a race, Martin, so he has recruited a very proficient first mate. Some say he is pure genius on the water.”
They all went silent, except for Martin, who was the first to speak up. “Who is it? Have I raced him before?”
“His name is William Leopold, and he is George’s younger brother, now the sixth Earl Breckinridge. He’s out on the back lawn right now, boasting about this new boat being faster and better than the original, and he just made a very sentimental speech about how he’s racing in honor of his late brother.”
Spence leaned back in his chair. “Oh, Jesus. And here I thought we were a sure thing.”
Martin shook his head. “Don’t be too quick to think otherwise, Spence. How long has he been sailing?”
“A few years I’m told. He was residing on the Mediterranean until recently, when he returned home to bury his brother and inherit the title. There was some competition between them, I’m told, which is why George had built the
Endeavor
in the first place. To show him up.”
Martin sat back, astounded. He had had no idea young Breckinridge was a sailor, much less a brilliant one, and the news knocked him completely
off kilter. “They certainly kept their secret well guarded. You didn’t know, Spence?”
“Of course not. I would have told you if I did.”
Martin sat in silence for a long moment, staring down at the tablecloth while he digested this news. “You know,” he said, “I’m sure there are still those here in Cowes who believe I let Breckinridge drown simply to hold on to the title. They’ll be rooting for the
Endeavor II,
no doubt. And the young earl might even be out for revenge.”
“No, surely not,” Spence said.
“You did everything you could to save the earl,” Lord Radley said, “and we have all attested to that. I was there. I witnessed your heroism.”
Spence raised his coffee cup. “Here, here. We will win this race tomorrow to prove you would never need to resort to such ungentlemanly tactics in the first place. You’re a champion, Martin, and that’s all there is to it.”
Martin thanked them for their support and joined them in a toast, but found himself gazing toward the back lawn again and thinking of something else entirely.
The pre-race ball that night aboard the
Ulysses
was a glittering affair, with enough food and champagne to sink the ship. The ladies flaunted their finest gowns, while the gentlemen stood around in their formalwear, paying tribute to the
late Lord Breckinridge through stories and remembrances. The evening was solemn at times, lively at others, and the music was second to none while many guests made their predictions for the race the next day.
Evelyn had danced with a number of handsome gentlemen throughout the evening, but had not yet seen Martin. She could not deny she had been watching the door. It had been quite a while since she’d spoken to him, and to night, all she wanted to do was look into his eyes and tell him she was happy for him—happy he had finally done what he needed to do for his own peace of mind and heart.
She would tell him also that
she
was happy. That because of him, she had found joy in life and learned not to take herself so seriously. She had made two wonderful new friends and no longer felt she was alone in the world. She had great hope for the future.