Page 28 of The Princess Stakes
But the last couple of days, Sarani had been on task and quiet. Too preoccupied for pranks.
Stop thinking about her.
Willing himself to focus, Rhystan studied the charts again and gave up after a few minutes. Despite his mental exhaustion, he was restless, agitated. Mostly because of what awaited him in England and the fact that he had been urgently summoned by his mother, the Dowager Duchess of Embry, purportedly because of ailing health.
He had no doubt that it was yet another ploy to get him back to English shores. Marry some insipid, docile debutante. Beget an heir and a spare. Take control of the dukedom. Settle down. Become his blasted father.
Bile climbed into his throat. That was his worst nightmare. His eyes chased longingly over the map around the coast of Africa into the Atlantic Ocean. How easy would it be to replenish supplies and coal in St. Helena and change course? Head to France or Spain or even New York?
You want another family death on your conscience? Your mother’s this time?
His inner demons were right, curse the lot of them.
He had no way to know if his mother was pretending or was actually on her deathbed, but he hadn’t been there when his father and brothers had died. Despite his fractious relationship with his father, guilt over that had eaten away at him, mostly because of his brothers.
Though Roland had been a miniature replica of the duke, Rhystan had idolized Richard when they’d been children. He’d taken their deaths hard. All of them, even the duke’s. At the funeral, the desolation on his mother’s face had been a potent reminder of his failures.
Of the fact that he could never measure up.
On top of that, he hadn’t seen his nieces or his own sister in two years. He had spared them a thought or two, but no more than that. Last he heard, Roland’s widow had recently remarried and moved to Northumberland.
Clearly, Rhystan wasn’t and would never be of ducal caliber. And his father had known that, drummed it into him. Fate had buggered them both, it seemed. Because once he returned to London, his mother, in her dubiously ill state, would probably waste no time putting pressure on him to marry and secure the future of the dukedom. His legacy.
Rhystan had almost written to her and said, “Pick one.” He knew it wouldn’t matter to his mother who the future Duchess of Embry was as long as she was of the right bloodline and could carry the next ducal heir to term. His mother would have a list of eligible young ladies waiting for him, and then he’d be expected to do his ducal duty.
Hell.
Duty was an exacting master.
Rhystan loosed a breath, for the first time understanding what had possessed Sarani to marry another for the sake of court and country. It wasn’t enough to forgive her completely, but he wished she could have trusted him. Given him a chance to offer his own suit, to use his eminent family name for their sakes. But she hadn’t…because she hadn’t known. Because he hadn’t been honest with her from the start about who he was. Back then, he’d wanted nothing to do with the Duke of Embry.
Cursing, he slung back another two fingers of whisky, aware of the pleasant fog expanding in his brain. A vision of hair so black it absorbed light and a pair of laughing autumn-colored eyes danced in his mind’s eye.
Her Highness, the Princess of Joor. Now, Lady Sara Lockhart.
His Grace, the Duke of Embry. Now, Captain Rhystan Huntley.
He wasn’t unaware of the similarities between them. Both hiding behind other names and fleeing from their pasts, and now running into each other here on the high seas. He would laugh if it wasn’t so absurdly tragic. A pointless Shakespearean tragedy, in which the real bedevilment was how bitterly ironic it was that the only woman he’d ever wanted to marry had beenher.
And then she had let him go without a qualm.
She had never loved him. Not truly.
He rose, stumbling slightly, and made his way next door, only to halt at the hushed sound of arguing. The two women presumably, considering both voices were female. Rhystan didn’t care that he was shamelessly eavesdropping.
“There’s nothing you can do, Princess,” Asha was saying. “If you are right, then we will have to face it when the time comes. Worrying about it now does nothing.”
Sarani made a frustrated sound. “We need to act!”
“We are on a ship in the middle of the ocean,” the maid said, her voice calm though she also sounded frightened. “What would you have us do?”
“I don’t know! How can you be so calm when we’re in danger? That could be Vikram’s doing for all we know, sending his henchmen after us.”
“I’m afraid, too, but the captain won’t let anything happen.”
“Don’t be naive, Asha.” Something that sounded suspiciously like furniture being kicked and a muffled screech and oath followed. “That. Heartless. Man. Does. Not. Care.”
“I beg your pardon, Princess, but I think you’re wrong.” Asha sniffed. “Would he have allowed us to stay on this ship if he didn’t care?”
