All the questions he had still swirled in his head, but they’d dimmed considerably with her touch.
He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. She was supposed to be his arranged marriage, his answer to the question of how he made an heir and kept his heart.
But somehow, this entire plan had gone terribly wrong.
A knock sounded again at the door. But this time it came from the hall.
“My lord,” a male voice called. “I’ve got your dinner. Roast duck. Apologies for your inconvenience.”
He grimaced, rising to open the door. He’d sincerely wished he’d had more time to himself before he called Avery back to his room. Every time he saw her, she stirred feelings he didn’t wish to have and…
He supposed the only answer was to spend less time with her. Or tell her the truth.
Noah shook his head. That little summary had been rather depressing. He opened the door and took the tray.
“I’m sorry, my lord. About being curt earlier.”
My lord? He hadn’t introduced himself as the Earl of Ivinhart. Had someone downstairs recognized him? Perhaps. They were only a half day’s ride to his home. “There is nothing to apologize for. You’re a very busy man.”
The man nodded, looking relieved. “And your sister. Is she comfortable in her room?”
Sister. Whoever had recognized him might also know that his sister was actually dead. Not that it mattered. It only meant that the wedding would have to happen sooner rather than later. “I’m sure she is. I’ve yet to check on her.”
The man nodded again. “If you be needing anything else…”
He could ask more questions, but somehow, he had the feeling it would just appear more suspicious. The best thing to do was just allow this to slip away, knowing full well, they’d marry.
Would she be less angry at their wedding if she thought she’d been ruined?
Then he remembered her assertion that she didn’t care if she became a spinster. She actually wanted to remain single and in control of her destiny. He didn’t know how to tell her that from every angle, the fates were aligning against her.
Chapter Eight
Noah’s home perched on a bluff overlooking the harbor below. It was a beautiful location, and it afforded him both panoramic views and the necessary waterways for shipping any goods his land produced.
So as they crested the hill just before his home, even from the carriage, he could see the large ship that was anchored in his harbor. A ship that did not belong to him. The brigs he used were double masted, designed for stable carrying of goods, not speed. But this ship was larger, a third mast rising from the deck. The man who used this boat was serious about his sea travel.
“Damn,” he muttered as he banged on the carriage wall. He needed a moment to think. “Stop.”
“What is it?” Avery asked, looking up from her embroidery. They’d passed a pleasant morning of light conversation punctuated by her work.
All of that was about to change.
The carriage pulled to a stop. “That ship. I don’t know who’s it is, but I don’t like it.”
“It’s a Carrington ship,” she answered with a brief glance before she looked back down at her embroidery.
“What?” He sat up straighter, for the first time, irritated with her embroidery needle’s soft rhythm. How could she continue to work when they faced potential danger and how could she identify the ship with such a quick glance? “How do you know?”
Blessedly, she stopped again. “I visited the harbor twice a week for my entire life. My father was a shareholder in Carrington Shipping for years before my uncle realized that my father was stealing and cut him out. I’d recognize a Carrington ship on a moonless night in the dead of winter during a blizzard.”
He raised his brows. “You don’t need to be dramatic.”
She smiled at that. “I wasn’t trying to be. It’s the truth. Honestly, I can hear them. They sound different in the water from other ships. Must be the size and weight.”
He shook his head. How had it not occurred to him that the business had been a big part of her life? She was a part of the drama that surrounded her family’s business. “Then perhaps you can explain why it’s here.”
She shrugged. “You said that Bash and Eliza were joining us. Maybe they came directly here but took another route?”
“Mayhap. But we’d have been far safer at sea. If they were coming here, we should have all travelled together.” He stared at the ship frowning. Even now, a dingy was being lowered from the bow. Whoever was on that ship, they’d know soon enough.
“You’re right. But if it’s not them, then who? Eliza and Menace?”
“Abigail went off with Blasphemy and Emily with Dishonor. We were supposed to scatter. That was the word Bash used, I believe.”
Was someone checking in on him? Making sure he’d married Avery as he’d promised? Noah was less than impressed with the surprise visit. No, he’d not wed her yet, hadn’t even convinced her of the plan, in fact, he hadn’t even really tried. But, if someone had planned on arriving this soon, he needn’t have transported Avery at all.
And his half-truths and unsaid information were about to be brought into the light. His stomach clenched.
The marriage would happen, that much was certain, but after all of this, would she even give him an heir? Did he want her to? The very idea of her going through such a process filled him with sheer terror.
He pinched the bridge of his nose as he stared at her. They’d have to live separately. He couldn’t be with her every day and maintain any detachment.
The carriage pulled up to the door, servants already lined up in greeting as Avery began to pull the veil over her head.
“Don’t bother,” he grumbled. “They’ll know who you are soon enough.” You’ll be their mistress.
She frowned. “It’s tradition, one I
