Page 21 of Rules for Heiresses
Or woman’s.
He didn’t say it aloud, but his meaning was painfully clear.
Six
Courtland’s pride and joy was his ocean liner, aptly named the SSGlory. Not only was it unrivaled in terms of building material, technological innovation, and luxury, but it surpassed the speed and utility of many of its competitors from other shipping companies.
He was especially proud that some of the innovation his engineers developed was to be used in the conversion work for theGreat Easternsteamship, currently being refitted with machinery to lay the a new submarine transatlantic telegraph cable in the next year or so. It was gratifying to be part of modern advancement.
While the SSGloryoccasionally ferried passengers across the Atlantic, for the most part, it remained docked, constantly being tinkered on and improved. However, today it would be used to transport them to England and serve a second function as a honeymoon location. While it wasn’t as extravagant as a trip to some far-off holiday destination, Courtland hoped it would impress his bride.
The carriage came to a stop at the private dock, and Courtland watched as his wife’s eyes went round. “That’syourship?”
“One of them, yes,” he said, basking in her open awe. He knew theGlorywas spectacular, but something about Ravenna’s reaction made him feel a deeply satisfying thrill. Given that Rhystan was her brother, she wasn’t unfamiliar with the shipping world. He wondered whether her knowledge was empirical or more superficial.
“Gracious, Ashvale, she’s magnificent!” She stalked to the edge of the wharf so quickly that he had to grab her to keep her from going over. “Is her hull iron? Do you use screw propellers? What kind of engine is it? What’s her top knot service speed?”
Empirical, then.
Courtland had the sudden urge to savage that erudite mouth.
Every nautical term falling from it made his body tighten with instant, excruciating lust. He focused on answering her questions instead of pandering to his suddenly raging libido. “Not iron, composite with experimental steel. Yes to propulsion, and it’s a combination of steam and sail, with multiple boilers powering a triple-expansion compound steam engine, and a service speed of nineteen point five knots.”
“Marvelous,” she murmured, her copper eyes shining with excitement. “So under a week to England.”
“Just about.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
Her admiration continued as they boarded the massive vessel. He employed over a hundred people on the liner, and it was designed with seventy first-class staterooms, but there were to be less than two dozen passengers on this voyage. Perhaps that was an extravagance for the journey, but Courtland did not care. He’d spared no expense on the design and construction of this ship, combining his investments in shipbuilding, engineering, and steel-forging to build a liner that surpassed any other.
While she was exceptional in performance, theGlorywas equally impressive in indulgence. Nothing was spared in comfort. Furnishings were burnished mahogany and rich leather with gold accents. Ravenna exclaimed at the sheer size of the promenade decks, the huge glassed portholes that let in tremendous amounts of light in the first-class common rooms, the richness of the floors, and the unrivaled opulence of his private apartments.
When they arrived at his personal suite that boasted several rooms, including a library and reading room, a private dining area, and a full bath with running water, she shook her head in wonder. “It reminds me of your rooms at the Starlight,” she exclaimed.
They were much grander than those, but Courtland nodded because the design was nearly identical—reminiscent of a beautiful sixteenth-century French château. “Similar.”
“It’s incredible.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said.
“Are you joking? It’s the most fantastic ship I’ve ever been on.” She twirled in a circle in the middle of the room in a flurry of navy-blue skirts, and grinned. “Don’t tell Rhystan I said that, though he’s more interested in sailing ships than passenger liners.” She peered out of the gleaming-paned glass porthole to the docks beyond. “Are we to be joined by others?”
Courtland nodded. “Some. Dignitaries and businessmen, mostly. A few peers wanting passage as well, I believe. Rawley arranged it.”
His efficient man of business had taken care of all the details of their guests. Courtland had intended the trip to be an extension of their wedding celebrations.
“Anyone I’m acquainted with?” she asked, pulling off her hat as the servants started putting baggage away. He’d employed a lady’s maid for her. She hadn’t had one for the months she’d spent in disguise. Thinking about it made him feel sick at the risks she’d taken, and yet, reluctant admiration for her sheer mettle.
“Perhaps. The Earl and Countess of Waterstone—I can’t recall if you met them or not. They’re acquaintances of mine. Mr. Bingham will accompany us back to London, of course. And our resident dragoness, Lady Holding, who has taken it upon herself to be your sentry.”
Ravenna pulled a face that made his lips twitch. “Lovely. I’ll be sure to be on my best behavior, and by that, I mean the most vulgar tart ever.”
“Not too vulgar,” he said. “You have a reputation to maintain, remember.”
She feigned a sulk. “Reputations are for the weak.”
“Not in London, they’re not.”
“Town is stuffy to a fault,” she went on with a theatrical moan, her antics making him smirk. “So many rules and regulations. I must always be of pleasant countenance and wear a smile, but not too large, just the perfect amount with no teeth.”
