Page 4 of Rose
“Aye aye, Captain.”
Tristan crossed the main deck and climbed the stairs to the forecastle and was soon joined by Philip. Keeping his eyes trained on the shadowy sea, Tristan said to his quarter master, “I must find a way out of this betrothal without shaming my father.”
“Shaming him?” Philip said, the incredulity in his tone drew Tristian’s gaze. “Captain, if you refuse this betrothal, your father could be thrown in the stocks or imprisoned. By the Saints, you speak of breaking a contract with nobility. His very life may be forfeit and yours.”
Tristan gripped the ship’s rail, releasing a frustrated growl. “There must be a way. You know Baron Roxwell’s character. He’s a deplorable man. His own gambling and greed has brought his family low enough that he would consider betrothing his daughter to a commoner.”
Philip arched his brow at him. “You may not be of noble birth, but I would hardly call you common. You are wealthier than many lords.”
Tristan threw his hands up. “What does it matter? I refuse to bind myself to such a ruthless family. Baron Roxwell is the epitome of all I despise in their class.”
Philip looked at him dead on. “I’m sorry, Captain. The only way this match might have been avoided is if you were already married when the message arrived.”
Tristan fisted his hands together. “I’m not married as you well know. Do not tell me there is no other way.” He expelled a long breath, trying to regain control. Staring out to sea, he strained to see the object drifting near, but nothing broke the calm surface. Gentle waves lapped against the hull.
“You could always get married,” Philip suggested.
Tristan turned and raised a brow at him. “Isn’t it rather late for that?”
Philip shrugged. “As you’ve said, you are leagues away from London. No one of consequence could account for the last year of your life. Who’s to say you weren’t married when we arrived atPort Rìgh.”
Tristan shook his head. “I see where you’re going with this, but let us hurry to the part where we dismiss your idea. If I knew a woman I wished to marry, I would have done so already. Anyway, you know my mind on marriage. I am a man of the sea.”
Philip crossed his arms over his chest. “Marrying anyone else would be better than Abigail Roxwell. I heard she had her serving maid flogged for plucking her eyebrows too thin.”
Tristan groaned and bent forward, letting his forehead rest on the rail. “I agree with your logic, but I refuse to be forced into one marriage to escape another.” Damn Owen and his stubborn hypocrisy. Tristan stood straight and raked his hand through his hair. “It astounds me that my father can be so sensible in every other regard but his ambition to elevate his family to nobility. He cannot see his own folly.”
“Mayhap, thereisanother way,” Philip murmured.
Tristan watched his quarter master slowly pace the forecastle. “Yes, indeed, it just might work.”
“What are you mumbling about?” Tristan said impatiently.
Philip whirled around, his eyes gleaming. “You could falsify a wedding.”
Had his quarter master gone daft? “What are you talking about? Falsify a wedding? What is that supposed to even mean?”
A slight smile curved Philips lips. “Yes!” he said, clearly approving his own plan before Tristan even understood it.
“Don’t you see?” Philip blurted, his face now flushed with excitement.
“No, I don’t see,” Tristan snapped. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
Philip grinned. “You could feign being married to someone.”
Tristan slowly shook his head. He couldn’t believe what Philip had just proposed. “You’ve lost your mind, old friend.”
“Do not dismiss my idea so quickly, not until you consider it from all angles.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are proposing I pretend to have a wife. From every angle that is lunacy.”
Philip shrugged. “Desperate times.”
Tristan raised his eyes heavenward. “The notion of a fake bride is ridiculous, not to mention blasphemous.”
“No,” Philip snapped. “You marrying Lady Roxwell is ridiculous, not to mention abhorrent, immoral, unthinkable—”
“Enough,” Tristan snapped. It pained him that Philip did not exaggerate. By all accounts, Abigail was entirely lacking in merit, which was no surprise to Tristan. He had witnessed precious little nobility among the noble class.
