style="font-size:15px;"> Rebecca gave her a little shove. ‘Of course you can!’
Miss Tilson straightened into a more regal bearing and opened the door. Rebecca returned to her seat at the table.
The seaman who’d warned them to stay in their cabins balanced a tray as the boat continued to pitch. ‘Some refreshment, m’lady,’ he said to Miss Tilson.
Miss Tilson lifted her chin. ‘Thank you.’
Rebecca stole one quick glance at the seaman before averting her face.
Miss Tilson gestured to Rebecca. ‘Miss Tilson passes the time with me. Will you bring her food here for her?’
‘That I will, miss.’ The crewman stepped into the cabin and placed the tray on the table. He returned a moment later with two more trays. ‘Your maid, miss?’
Miss Tilson’s gaze darted quickly to Rebecca, who pretended not to notice. The governess finally answered, ‘My—my maid is resting. Perhaps you might leave her tray here, as well? We will tend to her.’
The seaman bowed. ‘Very good, miss.’ He placed both trays on the table.
When he left, Rebecca glanced up and they stared wide-eyed at each other.
‘I was afraid he would notice we look alike,’ Rebecca said. ‘He must have glimpsed me when he left the trays.’
Miss Tilson shook her head. ‘A governess is not important enough to notice, my lady.’
Their trays each held two slices of bread, some cheese and a tankard of ale with a cover on it. The two women continued to talk as they ate and Rebecca felt as if they’d known each other for ages.
As if they were sisters, although they clearly were not.
‘I believe we should call each other by our given names,’ Rebecca said. ‘It seems silly to be formal to one’s mirror image.’
Miss Tilson fluttered her lashes shyly. ‘If you desire it... Rebecca. Then I am Claire to you.’
‘Claire!’ Rebecca felt as if she were conversing with a sister.
Miss Tilson—Claire—must have felt a similar ease. ‘Might you tell me now why you do not wish to be married?’ She gave Rebecca a daring look. ‘Now that we are no longer formal?’
Rebecca stared into her tankard of ale which she held with both hands to keep it from spilling.
How could she explain?
‘A woman gives up everything by marrying,’ she said. ‘Any wealth or property she might have. Any right to decide for herself what she wishes to do. If I am to give up everything, it should be to a man who loves me and respects me and will not confine me.’
Claire’s brows rose. ‘And this man?’
Rebecca grimaced. ‘I met him only once. He merely wished to ensure himself I could produce an heir.’
Claire did not look the least dismayed by this information. ‘But of course he would want an heir. Especially if he has a title and property.’
‘He does.’ Rebecca tapped her pewter tankard with her fingernail.
‘Is the gentleman wealthy enough to provide for you?’ Claire asked.
‘He is said to be prosperous,’ she replied. ‘He must be, because he is willing to marry me with a mere pittance for a dowry.’
Claire nodded approvingly. ‘Will you tell me who he is?’
Rebecca could see no reason not to. ‘Lord Stonecroft.’
Claire gave her an enquiring look.
‘Baron Stonecroft of Gillford.’
‘Ah.’ A look of understanding came over Claire’s face. ‘You were hoping for a higher title than baron. I mean, you said you are the daughter of an earl.’
Rebecca sniffed. ‘I care nothing for that.’
Claire looked surprised. ‘Did he seem like a cruel man, then? Is that your objection?’
Not cruel.
Indifferent.
Rebecca sighed. ‘I do not believe there is precisely anything to object to in him. I simply do not wish to marry him.’
‘Refuse, then.’ Claire spoke this like a dare.
Oh, Rebecca would love to refuse. ‘My brother—my half-brother—says I am too much of a burden for him to wait for me to find a husband I would like. I’ve refused every offer he’s arranged for me. He has made certain I will be turned out without a penny if I do not marry Lord Stonecroft.’ Her face heated at the memory of her brother railing at her. ‘I’ve no doubt he means what he says.’ Still, her mind whirled with ways she might avoid this marriage without being turned out into the streets.
None were viable, however.
Claire looked sympathetic. ‘How sad. One would hope a brother would understand. Family should understand, should they not?’
Rebecca regarded her curiously. ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters? Any family at all?’
Claire shook her head. ‘I am alone in the world. Any relations are too distant to be concerned with me.’
More reason to feel a kinship towards her. ‘My parents are gone,’ Rebecca confided. ‘And my brother might as well be dead. He said he never wishes to see me again. Ever. Even if he visits England. He made that very clear.’
Her brother had always resented her. He’d resented her mother, as well. Possibly because their father had loved her mother better than either his son or daughter.
They fell silent.
Claire finally spoke and with a resolved tone. ‘I think you are fortunate to marry, Lady Rebecca—Rebecca. You have little money or property, correct? You can only gain by marrying. You’ll gain a home of your own to manage. Children of your own. Comfort and security. Even status and a respectable position in society.’
Rebecca glanced away.
All that was true. But Lord Stonecroft had only cared that she was young and healthy enough to breed and apparently tolerable to look at. He’d made no effort to know her. How was she to endure that sort of emotional wasteland? How was she to tolerate life with such a man?
Claire must have sensed Rebecca’s desolation. Her expression turned consoling. ‘Perhaps it will not be so onerous to be Lady Stonecroft.’
Rebecca managed a polite smile. ‘Perhaps not.’
As if by mutual agreement she and Claire began talking of other things. Books. Plays. Art. Music. From time to time Claire, pretending to be Rebecca, checked on Nolan, who never seemed to question who she was, to Rebecca’s delight.
Rebecca
