“Yes, Miss Hamilton, my extended stay in America proved successful and interesting. I trust you have been well? And judging by your attire, do I understand you are no longer in mourning for your father?”
“Yes. I know I should be in half-mourning, but I believe wholeheartedly Papa would want me to begin my new life in England out of mourning.” Tears threatened to rain down from her eyes at the thought of her dear departed papa. She fought them back. It would not do to cry in front of the duke like some immature schoolgirl.
The duke strolled forward to the large windows overlooking a park across the lane. “Our ship sails with the late afternoon tide. I trust you are ready to go?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The duke looked away from the window. His eyes narrowed while he regarded her for several moments. “Also, there is the matter of your two guards. I compensated them well and gave them letters of recommendation as you will not require their services in England.”
“That was kind of you, Your Grace.” Yet she remembered her abduction and why her father had assigned them. That was a lifetime away. She turned back to the duke.
While he continued to speak Emma wondered how one man could grow more handsome in a year’s time. The duke most certainly had. His clothing was expensive and tasteful, but not the type of clothing she expected a peer of the realm to wear. His understated clothing suited him and highlighted his sandy hair to perfection.
“Please, since I am your guardian, I prefer you address me as Wentworth when we are in private.”
“Yes, Wentworth.” It rolled off her tongue like dewdrops on rose petals. Wentworth. It was a fine name for a more than fine gentleman.
“Splendid.” He waved one arm around the room. “If you’re ready, I will have the coachmen attend to your trunk.”
Sometime later, seated in the rolling carriage, Emma watched as the bustling waterfront came into view. Butterflies waltzed inside her stomach in anticipation of this next phase of her life. Yet her heart broke at the thought of leaving home.
Everything about life here reminded her of her papa. And she was afraid that leaving it all behind and settling in another country was also leading her away from his memory. Oh, Emma knew she was being melancholy. She could never forget her papa, but still it worried her that she might.
The duke, lounging next to Emma, appeared to all the word as if nothing weighed on his mind. Would he be kind to her once they arrived at his estate? Many unanswered questions floated around inside her head, each one wanting to be answered. She rubbed her index fingers against her temples, trying to quell the sudden onset of a migraine. It would not do to be confined to her cabin the first day at sea. She did not want the duke to think she had a weak constitution. Emma took pride in her good health.
As the carriage rounded a bend the Georgina rose majestically out of the water. Emma couldn’t take her eyes off the ship that would be her home for weeks. Never, in all her eighteen years, had she traveled on a luxury ship.
Her papa’s ships were made for whaling. There was nothing luxurious about them. Memories of her time on his ships brought tears to her eyes and a lump in her throat. Would she ever stop missing him?
Emma wiped away her tears and focused, once again, on the ship in front of her. Three masts rose up from the deck of the Georgina. Once it was in full sail, this ship would spirit them across the vast Atlantic in no time.
As they approached the dock, the sight of it close up took her breath away. The touch of Wentworth’s hand on hers as he helped her down from the carriage did not help. Sparks ignited and smoldered, sending tingles of awareness up her arm. Certainly he would be shocked by her reaction to him, if he were to find out. It would not do to dwell on these feelings. He was her guardian and nothing more. He probably looked upon her as just another irritating female he needed to marry off, or as an unwanted family member who would drain his coffers.
Just as Emma lightly placed her gloved hand on his proffered arm, she heard him say, with a hint of humor, “Well, I’ll be… If it isn’t my long-lost friend, Norwich.”
Wentworth released Emma, and the two men clasped hands, “Now don’t you look like an American frontiersman. Emma, you remember my friend Norwich? He disappeared shortly after we arrived in New Bedford, saying he needed to see all America had to offer.”
Myles, his face darkly tanned with little crinkled lines around the eyes, grinned at Wentworth while he tipped his fedora to Emma. “Are you jealous because I traveled this wild land?” He wiggled his brows up and down. “Not to mention New Orleans and the Creole ladies with their delightful charms and elegant manners. Ahh, the joys of being young and handsome in such a fruitful new world.”