whole time they were at luncheon and it was only when they had finished that the Marquis said,
“When the wind drops and we can make our way to the French coast, I have been thinking that if we overshoot Le Havre, which is likely, then I may have to take you as far as Bordeaux.”
“Are you sailing through the Bay of Biscay?” Ola enquired.
“I am going to the Mediterranean,” the Marquis replied. “From there I thought I would put into Nice.”
He spoke almost as if he was talking to himself, then, as he saw the expression on Ola’s face, he realised that he had made a mistake.
He had no intention in any circumstances of keeping her aboard one minute after it was possible to put her ashore.
“Bordeaux would suit me very well, my Lord,” she said, “if it is not possible to make Le Havre.”
Her reply, the Marquis told himself, was one thing – the hope he saw in her eyes was another.
‘I should never have brought her in the first place,’ he ruminated.
He remembered Sarah and the way she had cajoled him into doing what he did not wish to do and his hatred of women, every one of them, swept over him.
“I can assure you that my Captain is doing his best to reach Le Havre,” he said sharply, “and it would be a mistake for you to come on deck. It is extremely cold and you would get wet.”
He rose from his seat as he spoke and without looking at Ola again he left the Saloon.
She gave a little sigh.
She knew that it would only make him angry if she argued.
‘I wonder what has upset him?’ she pondered and was quite certain in her own mind that it was a woman.
Because the Marquis was so good-looking and undoubtedly very rich, it seemed unlikely, if not impossible, that any woman he fancied would not throw herself into his arms if that was what he wanted.
Yet perhaps like everybody else he wanted the unattainable, although what that might be, Ola could not imagine.
If she was not allowed to go on deck, she thought, at least there were a number of books lying in a bookcase on one side of the Saloon.
It had surprised her that there were books aboard the yacht, for she knew that when her father was at sea, he was far too interested in what was happening on deck to have any time for reading.
It struck Ola that the Marquis was different from what she would have expected of a man of his age and position.
She had heard so much about the riotous behaviour of the bucks and beaux in London that she imagined his life would be spent in a search for pleasure and amusement.
Then she remembered that she had read of him in the Parliamentary Reports besides seeing his name mentioned continually on the sporting pages of the newspapers.
‘He obviously has many interests,’ she thought to herself and decided that she would discuss them with him at dinner if she was still aboard.
The mere idea that she would be leaving soon brought back all the apprehensions and worries that had beset her in her cabin until she could not bear to think about them any more.
‘I will manage, of course I will manage,’ she told herself reassuringly. ‘After all, it is not as though I have never been abroad before, although never – alone.’
She knew it would be very different travelling on her own. When her father and mother had first taken her to the Convent, they had stayed on the way with friends at their grand châteaux and had made the journey an adventure that Ola knew she would never forget.
When she had returned to England with two other English girls, they had two nuns in attendance and a Courier to arrange their rooms and see to the luggage.
‘Now I shall be alone,’ she thought and she could not help shivering and feeling a little afraid.
She was convinced that it would be wisest to hire a post chaise. But she still would have to stay at inns on the way and she thought they would think it strange that a lady should be travelling alone, especially one so young.
A memory came flooding back to her that was
“When the wind drops and we can make our way to the French coast, I have been thinking that if we overshoot Le Havre, which is likely, then I may have to take you as far as Bordeaux.”
“Are you sailing through the Bay of Biscay?” Ola enquired.
“I am going to the Mediterranean,” the Marquis replied. “From there I thought I would put into Nice.”
He spoke almost as if he was talking to himself, then, as he saw the expression on Ola’s face, he realised that he had made a mistake.
He had no intention in any circumstances of keeping her aboard one minute after it was possible to put her ashore.
“Bordeaux would suit me very well, my Lord,” she said, “if it is not possible to make Le Havre.”
Her reply, the Marquis told himself, was one thing – the hope he saw in her eyes was another.
‘I should never have brought her in the first place,’ he ruminated.
He remembered Sarah and the way she had cajoled him into doing what he did not wish to do and his hatred of women, every one of them, swept over him.
“I can assure you that my Captain is doing his best to reach Le Havre,” he said sharply, “and it would be a mistake for you to come on deck. It is extremely cold and you would get wet.”
He rose from his seat as he spoke and without looking at Ola again he left the Saloon.
She gave a little sigh.
She knew that it would only make him angry if she argued.
‘I wonder what has upset him?’ she pondered and was quite certain in her own mind that it was a woman.
Because the Marquis was so good-looking and undoubtedly very rich, it seemed unlikely, if not impossible, that any woman he fancied would not throw herself into his arms if that was what he wanted.
Yet perhaps like everybody else he wanted the unattainable, although what that might be, Ola could not imagine.
If she was not allowed to go on deck, she thought, at least there were a number of books lying in a bookcase on one side of the Saloon.
It had surprised her that there were books aboard the yacht, for she knew that when her father was at sea, he was far too interested in what was happening on deck to have any time for reading.
It struck Ola that the Marquis was different from what she would have expected of a man of his age and position.
She had heard so much about the riotous behaviour of the bucks and beaux in London that she imagined his life would be spent in a search for pleasure and amusement.
Then she remembered that she had read of him in the Parliamentary Reports besides seeing his name mentioned continually on the sporting pages of the newspapers.
‘He obviously has many interests,’ she thought to herself and decided that she would discuss them with him at dinner if she was still aboard.
The mere idea that she would be leaving soon brought back all the apprehensions and worries that had beset her in her cabin until she could not bear to think about them any more.
‘I will manage, of course I will manage,’ she told herself reassuringly. ‘After all, it is not as though I have never been abroad before, although never – alone.’
She knew it would be very different travelling on her own. When her father and mother had first taken her to the Convent, they had stayed on the way with friends at their grand châteaux and had made the journey an adventure that Ola knew she would never forget.
When she had returned to England with two other English girls, they had two nuns in attendance and a Courier to arrange their rooms and see to the luggage.
‘Now I shall be alone,’ she thought and she could not help shivering and feeling a little afraid.
She was convinced that it would be wisest to hire a post chaise. But she still would have to stay at inns on the way and she thought they would think it strange that a lady should be travelling alone, especially one so young.
A memory came flooding back to her that was
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