“Not much of a sailor, are you,” Angus remarked.
I shook my head. “You’ll wait here for me?”
“Are you hiring me to wait here, Emma?”
“I am, Angus.” I did a mental calculation of the coins presently weighing the purse that dangled from my wrist. Well, if I didn’t have enough I’d send Brady down later with more. “Please don’t leave me stranded here.”
Angus let go a snort. “As if King William up there wouldn’t see you safely back to land.”
I let his derision of my relative pass without comment and started up. Uncle William met me at the top, swung me off the steps, and deposited me firmly on the solid deck.
William Vanderbilt was a younger, trimmer, more handsome version of his older brother, Cornelius. Though the resemblance was plain to see, where Uncle Cornelius was blunt featured and heavy-jawed, on Uncle William those same features took on longer lines and smoother planes that lent an aristocratic elegance his brother was missing. Uncle William smiled more easily, and those smiles reached his blue eyes without the secretive, calculating look his brother often bore whether he willed or no. And where Uncle Cornelius was solid and stocky, Uncle William’s frame was much more athletic, his step more energetic.
“Emmaline, dear, what brings you here? Are you all right? It’s awful what happened at Marble House yesterday. I’ve tried calling, but your aunt Alva won’t come to the telephone.”
Then he couldn’t know about Consuelo, at least not yet. When it came to a sharp intellect, Uncle William was no less astute than his older brother. On my way here I’d realized I couldn’t very well announce that Consuelo had vanished without a trace, or her disappearance would become a national emergency within minutes. Aunt Alva wanted Consuelo found without sparking rumors, and while I entertained doubts about the wisdom of that course, I’d respect her wishes for the time being.
Thinking quickly, I apologized again for intruding upon my uncle’s afternoon and smiled brightly. “I’m fine, thank you, Uncle William. Consuelo and I had plans to meet in town, but since she said she’d be stopping by to see you I thought I’d row out and meet her here.”
“Consuelo has no plans to come here today that I know of.” His expression became skeptical and I realized my mistake, confirmed by his next words. “You mean to say that after what happened yesterday, her mother allowed her out of the house?”
“Oh, well . . . Aunt Alva thought a change of scenery might be best. Besides . . .” Within the folds of my skirts I crossed my fingers. “Consuelo is meeting with a dressmaker in town. She’s ordering some things for her wedding trousseau.”
“Alone?” Uncle William’s doubts seemed to grow with each word I uttered. I found myself wishing I’d never come, much less opened my mouth.
“Surely not alone.” I tried a bit of lighthearted laughter, but it came out harsh and jarring. “I’m sure one of the maids accompanied her. And me, once I meet up with her.”
“Ah.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Emmaline, is there something going on I should know about? Is Consuelo all right? Has my ex-wife done something unconscionable again?”
The question sent my pulse spiking, for it was one I myself pondered. Did Alva have anything to do with Madame Devereaux’s murder or Consuelo’s disappearance?
Before I could answer, Uncle William drew my arm through his own and escorted me through the nearest doorway, into a parlor fitted out with velvet furnishings and dark-wood tabletops. He sat me down on a small sofa and settled beside me. “Well?”
“Consuelo is fine. Well, not fine exactly. Who could be fine after nearly witnessing a murder? Which she didn’t actually, so you can set your mind at ease on that count. She saw very little at all, really, because the other ladies and I were blocking her view.” I was babbling, but I couldn’t seem to stop. Our close proximity magnified the concern in Uncle William’s face and made it blasted difficult to continue lying. Which might explain the snippet of truth that fell next from my ingenuous lips. “But you should know she isn’t at all happy about marrying the Duke of Marlborough.”
As soon as the statement was out of my mouth I wanted to smack myself. What was I thinking? That it would help Consuelo’s case if her father knew the truth? That he would step gallantly in and undermine Aunt Alva’s plans, save his daughter from her unhappy fate, and then what? Allow her the freedom to choose her own future?
He wouldn’t. I knew that even before he looked down at his hands, breathed a deep sigh, and looked back up at me with a regretful frown. “Emmaline, you have altogether too much time on your hands. I don’t mean to criticize and Lord knows, I find you to be a steady, resourceful young woman—most of the time.” He patted my wrist. “But don’t you think it’s time you found a nice young man and settled down? Or better yet, let your aunt Alice make a good match for you. She’s just dying to see you married into a good family.”