Lyn Stone - The Substitute Countess

Jack looked out across the waves again to avoid her gaze. It could not be this uncomplicated. He was so used to fighting hard, struggling for everything he got, it was hard to accept.

Despite what looked to be trouble-free success, he kept thinking how this would impact his own life. There would be no more nights of delight in foreign ports, no further risk-taking adventures and no indulging in wild investment schemes to increase his fortune. He would be a married man, honor bound to exclusivity, tied to one woman and an estate for which he would be solely responsible. Sobering thoughts indeed, but he had already decided that’s what must be. There were others to think of now besides himself.

Though he often wished to, he could not bring himself to ignore the needs of others as his father had always done. Though Jack had loved the man, he recognized the shortcomings at a very early age.

Now the welfare of many rested with Jack, just as it had aboard his own ship. Delegating that task for the last venture had proved disastrous. Responsibility was a weighty thing, but something he had to embrace. However, embracing Laurel would be no sacrifice at all. Perhaps it would prove to be the reward for his diligence.

Still, he should give her one last opportunity to assert herself or question the sanity of the plan. “I would like you to be certain, Laurel. As you said at first, you hardly know me.”

She shrugged. “Better than I know anyone else. So do you really want to?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied and did not elaborate any further for fear he would talk her out of the notion. And whyever should he do that? Their marriage would solve everyone’s needs. Hobson would be satisfied with the fairness of it, and Laurel would have the family she wanted. His mother would be delighted he was to give up the sea. As for himself, he would…well, he would live a changed life, one of wealth and privilege.

“If you will excuse me, I’ll go and speak with the vicar and to the captain for his permission to use the deck. We might as well have done with it as soon as may be.”

She frowned up at him and he immediately realized how dreadful that had sounded. He forced a hearty laugh. “You know how grooms cavil at wedding formalities.” When she shook her head slightly, he added, “No, I don’t suppose you do. I’m quaking in my boots, wondering if I’ll be able to live up to your trust in me. That’s all. Sheer nerves.”

She nodded, smiling as she smoothed the lapel of his coat and gave it a pat. “Then we must keep the ceremony simple with no fuss and bother.”

“Aye, that’s best,” he said, raising her hand to his lips and pressing a long kiss on her cold fingertips. “Until later, then.”

He strode quickly away, every fiber of his being screaming for release of tension. If only he could shed his boots and climb the rigging, haul rope or shift barrels. Any activity to dispel the feeling of confinement in his own body. He was on an edge that a bridegroom’s nerves did not explain. He suffered it almost constantly and never found an explanation.

The very next morning Laurel shook out her white muslin and spread it over the bunk in her cabin. She had only two gowns, the gray she wore every day and this one she and Sister Mary Anne had sewn for her confirmation years ago and recently altered for any dressier occasions that might occur at the Orencio household. Not that there had been any of those occasions.

There were ribbons, too, that she had already threaded through the braids that crowned her head. She might not be the most fashionably dressed of brides, but at least she wouldn’t look like the gray mouse her groom would be expecting.

Doubts about her decision had kept her awake most of the night. None she would admit to Jack, however. The way he had explained things, this truly did seem her only chance at a normal life.

He was very considerate, gallant, handsome, even titled. What more could she hope for in a husband? The very thought of having to meet numerous candidates and choose another terrified her.

According to him, any chance for such a choice would not be possible anyway, because everyone in England would believe her compromised after their trip together.

Even if she and Jack turned out to be mismatched in future, she would somehow make things work between them. He was a good man to do this for her.

She donned the crinkled muslin and smoothed it out as best she could. Her white slippers were a bit tight, having been constructed when she was but thirteen. Still, her feet had not grown much since that age. Laurel took a deep breath, pinched her cheeks, raked her teeth over her lips to induce a little color and went out to join Jack on the deck.

She smiled at his reaction. He looked rather shocked for a moment to see her wearing something different from the gray. And then pleased. His appreciative smile warmed her heart.

He looked wonderful in a coat of dark blue with gray breeches, black boots that reached his knees and incredibly white linen at his neck and wrists. Well dressed and well formed was this cousin and soon-to-be husband. The wind tossed his light brown hair about his brow, affording him a boyish charm that delighted her.

How tall and imposing he looked despite that small disarray, every inch a nobleman, every ounce a strong, capable man of the world. When she stood next to him, he made her feel small, yet in no way insignificant. Her wishes and opinions seemed to matter to him. He had been nothing but forthright, kind and considerate.

Laurel hoped this would prove to be the best decision for both of them. Jack was giving up his bachelor status, which he must surely have enjoyed enormously, to save her reputation.

Marriage would not become a total sacrifice on his part, she would see to that. She was good at organizing and very economical, both attributes that would be handy for managing a large household. After all, the convent was no more than that, and she had become adept at helping the sisters in almost every area. She would know precisely what to do.

Even more important was the fact that as a new earl, Jack would be thinking of setting up his nursery. The novels she had read indicated that every man of rank needed to wed and produce an heir. She promised herself she would, in every way possible, make this marriage as good for him as it would be for her. She would make it perfect.

The captain and the minister stood before them at the bow, flanked by a number of the crew and the half dozen other passengers. Strangers all, for there had been no time yet to form friendships or even to acquire acquaintances.

Jack held out his hand and she took it. How gallant of him to do this for her, to come for her and then to save her from scandal. What a good heart he had.

The rise and fall of the ship seemed to set the cadence for the minister’s words as he read from his book.

Hers was the first wedding she had ever attended, so Laurel hung on every word, committed to memory each promise Jack made, amazed that this outrageously handsome man, this earl, this treasured new friend and cousin, vowed so sincerely to become her husband forever. Her heart was so full of gratitude, she could scarcely breathe.

“I, Jackson Templeton Worth, take thee, Laurel Winspear Worth, to my wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

Laurel repeated the same vows with the word obey added to her litany. She slipped cherish into her part, as well, for she meant to truly cherish this wonderfully selfless man.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Jack said, looking down at her hand as he slid a plain gold band on her finger. “And with all my worldly goods, I thee endow.”