One Bite Per Night Read Free

in the game of wedlock. Vincent smiled. It had been too long since he’d indulged in a good competition.

Two
    Lydia awoke to a loud rapping on her cabin door. The wooden floor bobbed under her feet as she stumbled like a drunkard to answer the knock.
    The first mate greeted her with a gimlet gaze. “There’s been a change in plans, miss. Ye’re ta depart here at Plymouth.”
    Confusion warred with relief that her long voyage had come to an early end. “Ah…do you know why, sir?”
    He shook his head and chewed on his pipe. “Ye’ll have to take that up w’ the cap’n. All I know is he received a note. Put on yer warmest frock, an’ I’ll get yer trunks loaded up.”
    Lydia sighed and donned her black traveling dress and woolen cloak. Her mind raced as she struggled to pin up her thick black hair. Why Plymouth rather than London? Did Grandmother take ill? Or did she retire to the country to take the opportunity to meet me sooner? Praying it was the latter, she hurried out of her cabin to the captain’s quarters.
    The captain grumbled impatiently. “All I know is a carriage is waiting for you here, so you’d best run along and pack your things. I have work to do.” Before Lydia could respond, he walked away, barking orders to his crew.
    Lydia deftly avoided the rushing people on deck and returned to her cabin. The crew had already begun hauling her trunks, grumbling at their weight and number. She shoved her charcoals and sketchbook into her valise as her mind raced with excitement to at last meet her English grandmother. Perhaps Lady Morley would be interested in hearing about her adventurous voyage…and all about her papa and their life in America. Perhaps she had even forgiven him.
    As she returned on deck, moisture filled her eyes, blurring the spectacular vista of the bustling port city before her. Limestone cliffs gave way to a turbulent blue-green sea. Never before had she seen such a beautiful place. And the people, so lively and animated, their lilting voices echoing like a new song. Stevedores shouted and hauled crates up and down winches. Ships of all sizes crowded the harbor. Carriages and carts of all kinds lined the road beyond.
    Oh Mama, Papa, I wish you could see this. With a deep breath, Lydia swallowed a lump in her throat and joined the line of passengers on the gangplank.
    All was chaos as couples and families shouted joyous greetings and exchanged tearful embraces.
    Lydia looked left and right for someone who appeared to recognize her. But the melee of reunion continued around her, indifferent as the waves lapping against the pier.
    She hugged her valise tight and fought to stay calm. The cold, salty sea breeze assaulted her body, competing with the creeping chill in her heart. It will be my turn soon. A kind face will smile my way and beckon me—
    There she was. A tall, regal matron accompanied by a maid and footman beckoned near the end of the docks.
    Forgetting the weight of her valise, Lydia rushed forward. “Grandmother?” she cried, breathless with joy for the first time since her parents died.
    The woman shook her head and Lydia’s face burned in humiliation. She had approached the wrong person. Now that she was closer, she saw that the woman was too young to be her grandmother. There was more blonde in her hair than gray, and she couldn’t be older than fifty.
    Before Lydia could apologize and make a hasty retreat, the woman spoke. “Are you Miss Lydia Price?”
    She nodded, dread sinking into the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong.
    â€œWelcome to England. I am Miss Hobson.” Her narrow face was stark under her gray bonnet. “Your guardian, the Earl of Deveril, has hired me to be your chaperone and educate you in social graces.”
    â€œDeveril?” Lydia repeated dumbly. Had there been another Miss Price aboard the ship? “I-I was under the impression that the family