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Rescued By The Viscount's Ring
Rescued By The Viscount's Ring

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Rescued By The Viscount's Ring

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An unexpected proposal...

For the runaway heiress!

After escaping to avoid an arranged marriage, American heiress Madeline Macooish stows away aboard a ship bound for England. She’s rescued by Rees Dalton and spends the night in his cabin. Knowing her reputation is compromised, she accepts Rees’s offer of a temporary marriage. Drawn to his honest heart, Madeline begins to imagine wearing his ring forever. Until she learns her new husband has a secret identity!

CAROL ARENS delights in tossing fictional characters into hot water, watching them steam, and then giving them a happily-ever-after. When she’s not writing she enjoys spending time with her family, beach-camping or lounging about in a mountain cabin. At home, she enjoys playing with her grandchildren and gardening. During rare spare moments you will find her snuggled up with a good book. Carol enjoys hearing from readers at carolarens@yahoo.com or on Facebook.

Also by Carol Arens

Dreaming of a Western Christmas

Western Christmas Proposals

The Cowboy’s Cinderella

Western Christmas Brides

The Rancher’s Inconvenient Bride

A Ranch to Call Home

A Texas Christmas Reunion

The Earl’s American Heiress

The Walker Twins miniseries

Wed to the Montana Cowboy

Wed to the Texas Outlaw

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Rescued by the Viscount’s Ring

Carol Arens


www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90127-1

RESCUED BY THE VISCOUNT’S RING

© 2020 Carol Arens

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Note to Readers

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For Avery Michelle De Cuir.

Your nurturing spirit and generous nature

are a blessing to all who love you…

and there are a lot of us, my sweet granddaughter.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

New York Harbour—December 1889

Madeline Macooish was not one to use ugly language, even under her breath. Which did not mean she did not think of colourful words on occasion—on this occasion, to be precise.

No matter how she tried to outwit Bertrand Fenster, she could not. He trailed her like a pesky fly or a bad odour. Like a bout of hiccups that returned time after time.

Like a suitor intent on acquiring her grandfather’s fortune, which, of course, was exactly what he was. She ought to have known better than to be led astray—far astray—by the deceitful smile of a scoundrel.

Feeling his greedy gaze on her back, she spun about, glare at the ready.

All she saw were masts bobbing at anchor, along with red funnels spewing smoke and steam towards the mass of grey clouds stretching from the mouth of the Hudson to the eastern horizon.

Oh, but he was here. She’d felt his lurking presence on and off ever since she parted company with him in Chicago a few months ago.

She ought to be used to it by now, to not feel threatened by his secretive pursuit, but she would feel more at ease with an ocean between them.

Truly, what sort of false-hearted cad continued to trail his prey even when she had informed him, from the very beginning, no less, that she was no longer entitled to a fortune? Indeed, she had made it clear that in running off with him she had forfeited any money Grandfather would have given her.

And not because he would cut her off. No—he would never do that—but because she had betrayed him by running away and did not deserve one cent from that dear man.

Sadly, for all that she considered herself to be an excellent judge of character, she had fallen under the spell of the hoodwinker’s charm, had believed him to be sincere when he vowed his eternal devotion.

It was her own fault that she was in this situation. Had she been more level-headed she would not have run off, but married the man Grandfather had intended her to. That union would not have been the love match she had always dreamed of, but neither would she have been missing her family as desperately as she did now.

She had to conclude that love was blind, as the saying went. However, looking back on things, she now realised it had not been love she had felt, but rather infatuation.

Luckily she had come to learn that Bertrand was a bit dim in spite of his winning facade and handsome face.

The deep bellow of a ship’s horn thrummed over the harbour. Another answered.

Straightening her shoulders, Madeline gathered her smile and approached the ticket office. It was time to sail for Liverpool.

She had worked hard at odd jobs to earn the fare and had exactly enough money for a steerage ticket, but no more.

‘Good day,’ she said to the ticket master standing behind the window. ‘I’d like to book passage on the first ship going to Liverpool.’

‘That would be the Edwina, at dock right there across the road.’ He nodded towards the large, modern-looking vessel. ‘She’s sailing on the hour.’

Truly, that was rather perfect. It was unlikely that Bertrand would have time to follow her even if he did have the funds to do so.

‘Oh, that will do nicely.’

‘Will that be steerage, miss?’

Her plain but clean gown should have made that obvious. In the past when she had travelled with Grandfather her frilly gowns made it clear that she travelled first class, no matter the mode of transportation. This was bound to be a far different trip than any she had taken before.

She nodded, smiling. She was going to find Grandfather, to beg his forgiveness for what she had done to him. If need be, she would cross the ocean, sleeping on the deck. She missed him more than she could ever have imagined.

‘That will be thirty dollars.’

That much? Madeline gulped past the tight button on her collar. She withdrew the money from her purse, counted it out to the ticket master, knowing it would be two dollars short.

‘Oh, dear.’ She blinked at him, pressed her lips into a tight circle. ‘I must have lost... Oh, I was certain I had the full fare only an hour ago.’

‘There’s the Sea Minnow sailing next week. She’s a smaller vessel, but seaworthy. Her fare is only twenty-five.’

‘Oh, but my situation is urgent.’ She glanced over her shoulder, spotted Bertrand emerging from behind a stack of crates. ‘Is there perhaps something cheaper than steerage on the Edwina?’

‘I’m sorry, miss.’ He shook his head. She believed he did regret having to turn her away. He had a kind face and rather reminded her of Grandfather.

‘Sir, I can’t look back, but is there a tall, slim gentleman approaching?’

‘A dashing-looking fellow with a bit of a swagger to his walk?’

‘He’s not a bit dashing, but, yes, that is him. His attentions towards me are not welcome.’ Oh, good. The ticket master was frowning past her shoulder. ‘I must get to my grandfather.’

‘I don’t know how I can help you other than to summon a police officer.’

‘I can work off the two dollars once I’m on the ship.’ How close was Bertrand now? Any moment she expected to feel his skinny-fingered hand clamp about her elbow. ‘And my only luggage is this valise. I won’t need anything stored.’

‘Now that I see him closer, the fellow does look like a charlatan.’

‘Oh, he is—and how much closer?’

Swiftly, he wrote out a ticket and slid it towards her. ‘I’ve got a couple of dollars in my pocket.’

‘You are too kind, sir.’ She would have kissed his cheek, but there were bars across the window. Instead, she pressed her lips to her fingertips, then reached past the barrier and touched them to his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

‘Hurry now,’ he urged. ‘I’ll tell him you are taking the Sea Minnow.’

In spinning about she noticed that his name was Fenwick Stewart. She tucked the name in her memory because, somehow, she would repay the kind gentleman ten times over.

Now, she need only board the ship without having her rejected suitor know it.

All of a sudden, a gust of cold wind hit her back. It blew her skirts about and propelled her forward. She tucked her small valise securely into the crook of her arm. It would not do to lose the few possessions she had left in this world.

She dared a glance over her shoulder. Bertrand was at the ticket window. With his eyes off her for an instant, she ducked behind a stack of wood crates and crouched into a shadow. From here it would be a quick dash up the gangplank.

Footsteps tapped rapidly on the dock, coming in her direction. All at once, a young girl rounded the corner of her hiding place and crouched down. The poor child was crying, her face buried in her knees.

‘Hello,’ Madeline said because she could hardly ignore her presence. ‘Are you hiding, too? This is a rather nice spot for it.’

‘Please don’t give me away, miss.’

‘I’ll try not to, but who are you hiding from?’

‘Papa.’

This was tricky business. She could not keep the child’s whereabouts a secret from her parent.

‘I see. I’m hiding from a fortune hunter, just until I can get on the Edwina.’

As she suspected, that bit of information caught the child’s attention. Hopefully the fact that they were both hiding would form a bond between them and give Madeline some indication of how to proceed with this turn of events.

‘I’m supposed to get on the ship, too.’

Madeline scooted closer. ‘We are both in a bit of a pickle, it seems. Why don’t you want to go with your father?’

She hadn’t said so—quite—but it seemed clear that she did not want to.

‘I do.’ She turned red-rimmed eyes up at her, dabbed her nose on her sleeve. ‘But Mama isn’t going to Liverpool and I want to stay here with her.’

That was understandable. Had Madeline been lucky enough to have a mother, she would have done anything to remain with her. While Grandfather had done a loving job of raising both her and her cousin, Clementine, she had always longed for her mother. It didn’t matter that she had no clear memory of her.

‘Why isn’t your mother going with you?’

‘There wasn’t enough money for her ticket. Papa is going to send for her once he starts his new job in London. But I want to stay with Mama.’

‘Clara Lee Adelbackmore!’ a man’s voice shouted.

‘Clara!’ a woman’s voice echoed, but it sounded worried rather than stern.

‘You must be Clara?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Your parents are frightened. They don’t know you are only feet away. Surely they must be fearing all manner of horrid things to have happened to you.’

The same as Grandfather must be fearing for her. Shame for what she had done to that wonderful man made Madeline want to weep right along with Clara.

It would have been right and good to send Grandfather a wire letting him know she was safe, but she was not quite sure where to send it. He was no longer in Los Angeles, she did know that. London was where he might be. She could only guess that Clementine had been forced to marry the Earl of Fencroft in Madeline’s place. As desperately as she needed Grandfather’s forgiveness, she needed her cousin’s, as well.

In this case, a wire would not do. The magnitude of her misdeed called for an apology in the flesh. Had the prodigal son sent a note to his father, well, it would not have been right.

‘I’ll come out of hiding after Papa sails with my brothers.’

‘I doubt they will go, not with you missing. You should go along with what your father and mother planned. They purchased a ticket for you. You must use it.’

‘I won’t go without Mama.’

Of course, they could all make the trip together. And Madeline had a perfectly valid ticket gripped in her fist.

She could give it to the girl’s mother. It would mean remaining in New York until she earned enough money for another fare. It might take a very long time since she hadn’t many skills and she would also need funds to live on.

She desperately needed this ticket and should not part with it. But standing by when a child and her mother were about to be separated and knowing she could prevent it—that was a bit too much guilt to carry.

Madeline’s heart was far too heavy with regret as it was.

‘Come along.’ She stood up and reached her hand down to Clara. ‘Your parents are growing quite frantic. In a moment it will be the police looking for you.’

She shook her head. Her hat slipped off her mop of dark-brown curls.

‘It’s all right,’ she said with a smile which would appear sincere even though Madeline felt like weeping. ‘Your mother can have my ticket.’

‘But the fortune hunter!’ She sprang to her feet. ‘Won’t he catch you?’

‘No.’ She straightened the girl’s hat, adjusted the ribbons under the small, trembling chin. ‘I’m a good bit smarter than he is.’


Rees Dalton stood beside the Captain of the Edwina, smelling like coal, soot and sweat while silently observing passengers coming aboard over the wide gangplank.

‘Is there anything more specific you can tell me about what would constitute lax behaviour in the fire room, Captain Collier?’ All activity aboard the ship he had recently purchased was of vital importance to him, but the furnace area was critical when it came to the safety of everyone on board. ‘Anything at all that you might have forgotten to mention?’

‘No, my lord.’ The Captain rocked back slightly on the heels of his boots. ‘Your attention down there is paramount. As I said before, if the work is done incorrectly it could cause an explosion. I’ve heard of such things happening.’

‘While we are on board the ship, please remember to call me Rees, or Mr Dalton. I can hardly observe operations if my identity is discovered. I fear no one will act naturally in my presence.’

‘Not to be presumptuous, sir—Rees, that is—but might you not have hired a man to see to the job? It is hardly suitable for a man of your position.’

Rees shook his head while watching a family across the dock near the ticket office. There were six of them holding on to each other and looking distressed.

‘No. I cannot remain at my estate while the safety of passengers and crew aboard my ship is at issue. There are certain things a man must see to himself.’ But, in fact, he had hired a few men to secretly inspect the less-urgent areas of the ship’s operation. ‘May I borrow your spyglass, Captain?’

Rees took the offered telescope and focused the lens on the family. A girl of about twelve years was crying inconsolably and her parents and siblings were not faring much better.

‘It’s a common sight, Mr Dalton.’ The Captain tugged on his coat. The twin rows of polished brass buttons would be sparkling in the morning sunshine had there been any. ‘Often it’s too costly for all the family to make the crossing at one time. The father will go, then send for the rest when he is settled.’

‘I see,’ Rees muttered while scanning the dock for anything that might be out of place. ‘Is there not a family fare to prevent such a thing?’

He supposed he ought to know, but he was only recently a ship owner. There was more he did not know about the way things worked than what he did.

‘The previous owner didn’t offer it.’

Perhaps he ought to have. Mr McClure had gone bankrupt. It’s how Rees had been able to purchase the ship at a reasonable price.

From what he had learned of the situation, the man was more concerned with setting a record time for an Atlantic crossing than anything else. Apparently, there was fierce competition among ship owners to make the fastest crossing time.

McClure had put that before anything else. As a result, he had neglected the welfare of the passengers. Even the crew tended to be careless of their comfort. Word had spread and passengers booked more pleasant passage. Naturally the venture failed and he never did make the quickest time.

‘Tell me again, Captain, what might go wrong within the fire room.’

He’d heard it all before, but it still bore repeating.

People entrusted their well-being into his hands. While he hired fellows to see to some things, it was for Rees to monitor the most important ones.

It would be unconscionable for him to remain in Glenbrook while there was the smallest chance that a careless accident might cause harm to his passengers.

So far his watching had confirmed that McClure did not hire the most capable of men.

‘The heat needs to remain constant. Sudden cooling might damage a valve which could cause a furnace to explode. Watch for that, Lord Glenbrook, first of all.’ The Captain plucked at one of his coat buttons.

Rees nodded while he continued to scan the dock with the spyglass.

All the way from Liverpool he’d been posing as a fireman, working right alongside labourers in the boiler room. He had a fairly good idea now what hell must be like. Heat, sweat, filth and aching muscles—it was barely a fit job for a human, common born or not. Although he had come to see that there was nothing common about the men he worked beside.

Even though his muscles ached and sweat drenched him most of the time, he would continue the business of shovelling coal.

While he scanned the telescope across the ticket office on the other side of the road, a movement caught his eye. He focused the lens on a stack of barrels.

Yes! Just there a man crouched, peeking out from behind a barrel. Evidently he did not want to be seen.

He appeared to be watching a woman standing at the ticket counter. The lady glanced over her shoulder. She could not see the fellow from her vantage point.

What could he want with her? Clearly something was not as it should be.

With her ticket in hand, the woman turned from the ticket booth. The smile she had given the ticket master lingered on her face. For an instant, Rees forgot he was looking for careless employees because he was certain he had just glimpsed the face of an angel. Fair hair blew in fine whips from under her hat and her wide blue eyes sparkled even in the gloom of the cloudy morning—but it was her smile that captivated him. All the sweetness and innocence of the world were reflected on her lips.

But wait! The man emerged from behind the barrels an instant before the lady hurried away.

Rees was by nature a protector and he knew when someone needed protecting.

While the man spoke to the ticket master, the angel ducked behind a pile of wood crates. Seconds later, the child who had been weeping so desperately dashed away from her family. She ran behind the crates where the woman was hiding.

He switched his focus back to the man standing at the ticket office. The fellow slammed his fist on the counter, then glanced about before he spun on his heel and walked away.

A spyglass was an interesting device. Captain Collier must have seen all manner of interesting happenings over the years.

He was about to hand the glass back when the woman and the child came out from behind the crates, hand in hand.

The child was no longer crying, but rather grinning broadly. With the lens focused so closely, he clearly understood what was happening. The angel not only returned the girl to her parents, but pressed the ticket she had just purchased into the mother’s hand.

After a few quick hugs, the family hurried up the gangplank, laughing and looking joyful.

The lady who had just given up her ticket stood where she was, glancing about, her winglike brows pressed in thought.

What would she do now? Clearly she was not a lady of means who could simply purchase a new ticket.

A prosperous-looking family began to embark. So excited were they about boarding the great ship with her whistle blowing and her red stacks steaming, they took little note that the angel had joined them. She walked slightly behind, head bent and giving the appearance of being a servant to them.

He followed their progress with the glass. The family passed the fellow collecting tickets and stepped aboard. Smiling, with wisps of blonde hair streaking across her cheeks, the angel followed, but was prevented from boarding when the ticket collector blocked her way with his outthrust arm.

She had no ticket, after all. The employee was only doing his duty in forbidding her.

Still, he must have steel for a heart, being able to withstand her smiles as she gestured after the family who had no idea she had tried to filter in with them.

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