Page 48

She was a married woman, after all, and a ship’s captain. There would have been no fear of scandal escorted and chaperoned by the captain of the Dreamer. Even if she wore the most elegant man’s clothing much of the time.

And once again, her brother was looking…unsettled. “No reason.”

Gwen puffed up with immediate hurt. “Oh, well, if she doesn’t want to see me, all she has to do is—”

“Not everything is about you, Gwen,” her brother snapped. “It’s—It’s personal.”

‘Personal’? What on earth does that mean?

They were Chances. Anything personal was ultimately familial, shared with the family whether you, or indeed the family, wanted it to be or not. There were no secrets here, certainly not for long, and anyone who attempted to keep them ended up being found out in the most excruciating of ways.

Gwen had learned a long time ago just to not have them.

And now here was Michael, newly married, clearly besotted with his wife, who was attempting to keep a secret?

What on earth for?

There would be no reason to unless…unless…

Gwen’s mouth fell open. “You’re not.”

Michael’s head jerked up as a pair of ladies jostled him as they passed on the pavement. “Not what?”

“You are, aren’t you? Phylis is, I mean?” Gwen whispered, hardly able to believe it.

With child.

It was early, to be sure, but it was possible—and that meant that just when her marriage to the Marquess of Ravenshurst was about to be celebrated, her brother would be once again the center of attention.

As he always was.

And though it was irrational, though Gwen hated it about herself, the absurd frustration at always being the one treated like a child, always set aside, always mistakenly unheeded, rose up within her—a tidal wave of resentment against the brother who was always fawned over and feted and generally flattered, and before she could stop herself, she had said something that she did not quite mean.

“Don’t announce it until after my wedding. Please.”

Michael’s eyes widened, and there was a bob at his throat as he said, “What makes you think—”

“You always do something to distract from me,” Gwen said quietly, her voice tinged with distress. “Please, it’s my wedding.”

“I’m going to have a baby, Gwen. You think that is more important than your wedding?” he said hotly.

Gwen momentarily closed her eyes. Of course. Of course! I should have expected this.

Michael would never allow her to have a day, just a single day, that was about her.

“Michael—”

“Michael! Oh, and Miss Chance. Hello.”

Gwen opened her eyes.

Ernest—Baron Frasemere was standing before them, cheerful as ever, though as his attention flickered between the two siblings, it soon seemed to become clear to him that something was amiss and his smile faded. “Is… Is everything quite well?”

“Yes,” said Gwen hastily. “We just—”

“No,” said Michael shortly. “I’ve got to run home, Frasemere. You don’t mind escorting my sister home, do you? Don’t worry, she won’t bite. Not you, at any rate. She saves all that hatred up for me.”

“Michael—”