you have any brothers or sisters? Any family at all?’
Claire’s throat tightened with emotion. ‘I am alone in the world. Any relations are too distant to be concerned with me.’
‘My parents are gone,’ Rebecca responded in a like tone. ‘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.’
Another way they were alike. Both alone. Both without parents. Lady Rebecca went on to say her father died two years before, her mother, a decade ago.
At least she’d known her mother. Claire’s mother had died giving birth to her; her father, over five years ago.
But Rebecca had one choice Claire would probably never have. The chance to make a good marriage. ‘I think you are fortunate to marry, Lady Rebecca—Rebecca,’ she finally said. ‘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.’
It sounded like a wonderful choice to Claire. She yearned to have a man to love her—that is, the right man, one she was free to love in return. She suspected she would even enjoy the pleasures of the marital bed, because sometimes when seeing a handsome man—like the man who’d spoken to them in the hallway—she’d wonder how it would be for him to kiss her or hold her.
Could men sense such impulses in her? It often seemed the wrong men paid her attention.
How much easier it would be to simply be married. To have such security.
She opened her mouth to speak of this to Lady Rebecca, but the lady’s expression had turned desolate.
Claire wanted only to comfort her now. ‘Perhaps it will not be so onerous to be Lady Stonecroft.’
Rebecca gave a polite smile. ‘Perhaps not.’
Claire changed the subject, to save Rebecca more discomfort. They talked about their interests. What books they’d read. What plays they’d seen. Their favourite pieces of music. From time to time, Rebecca convinced Claire to impersonate her and check up on her maid, Nolan. The woman accepted her as Rebecca, each time.
* * *
They talked until night turned the angry sea dark. It felt lovely to Claire. She’d not had such a friend in a long time.
But Rebecca’s eyes, so like Claire’s, grew heavy and, as they talked, she tried to stifle yawns.
Claire, feeling guilty for claiming her company for so long, stood. ‘I should return to my cabin so you might get some sleep. I’ll help you out of your dress, if you help me out of this lovely gown.’
Rebecca rose and turned her back so Claire could untie the laces at the back of the plain dress she had owned for years. It had been such a pleasure to wear something a bit decadent, if one could call wool decadent. Ladies who frequently purchased new dresses did not realise how it felt to wear the same drab garments, day after day.
As Claire loosened the laces of the dress, Rebecca turned to her. ‘Let us see how far we can carry this masquerade. You be me tonight. Sleep in my nightclothes, in this bed. And I will continue being you.’
Claire blanched. ‘I cannot allow you to be closeted in that tiny berth they gave me!’
‘Why not?’ Rebecca looked defiant. ‘It will be an adventure for me. And you will have the comfort of this cabin as a treat. When Nolan enters in the morning, we shall discover if she still believes you are me.’
She pulled out her nightdress, made of the softest of muslin. ‘Here.’
Claire fingered the fine cloth of the nightdress. ‘Perhaps. If you desire this.’
‘I do desire it,’ her likeness insisted. She helped Claire out of her dress. ‘I desire it very much.’
* * *
By morning, though, the weather had worsened and the boat pitched and rose even more fiercely than the night before. Claire was awoken by Rebecca knocking on the door of her own cabin. She rose and had difficulty crossing the room to answer the door to admit her new friend. They looked even more alike, both in their nightclothes, their hair loose about their shoulders.
‘I checked on Nolan,’ Rebecca said. ‘She is even more ill today. I also saw the seaman who brings our food. He said we must stay below.’ She lifted her arm. ‘I brought your bag.’
Claire had packed a clean shift, her brush and comb, and a small bar of soap for the boat trip. The small trunk that held the rest of her clothing was stowed away. The dress she’d wear again today was draped over one of the chairs.
‘We can help each other dress,’ Rebecca said.
Dressing was a challenge, though. They had difficulty staying on their feet and the pitcher of water for washing had mostly spilled on to the floor. They managed to get into their shifts and corsets, and Claire reached for her dress.
Rebecca stopped her. ‘Oh, do let us continue our masquerade. It was such a lark.’
Claire did not need much convincing. She’d relish wearing Rebecca’s lovely dress again and having her hair in curls.
As the day crept on, though, their impersonation of each other was forgotten. It was clear the ship was in very rough waters. A seaman did attend them, bringing food and drink, but his face seemed pinched in worry.
‘A bad storm brewing,’ he told them.
* * *
Lucien had spent most of the day on deck, though he had no control over the lack of decision by the Captain. Curse naval discipline! It was clear to him that the ship could founder at any moment. The time was past to do anything to prevent it.
He ran over to the Captain. ‘Give the order to abandon ship! Get these passengers into the boats while there is still time.’ They were near the coast. The boats might make it to shore.
‘Yes, yes.’ The man’s face was ashen. He suddenly clutched his arm and his face contorted in pain. He collapsed on the deck.
‘Blast,’ Lucien cried. He grabbed one of the men to attend to the Captain and another to see that the order to abandon ship was given. He ran to the cabins to get the passengers to safety.
Suddenly there was a loud crack and Lucien watched lightning travel down the main mast. It split in two and crashed on to the deck.
Time was running out. He dashed back to the cabins and burst into the next one.
He found the lady and her companion. He’d learned the lady was Lady Rebecca Pierce, sister to the Earl of Keneagle. Certainly that had been a surprise. The other woman was a governess. But he had no time to lose.
‘Come above,’ he commanded. ‘We must abandon ship. Bring nothing.’
Lady Rebecca jumped to her feet, but the governess defied his order and pulled a reticule from her satchel. He’d still not seen her face.
‘Come on!’ he ordered.
