FREE! In The Arms of My Enemy (Completed!) Book 1

A Most Amusing Battle

As a child, Fidelia used to dream of what it would be like to marry William Greyville. Her young heart full of all the sweetest imaginings of true-love's kisses and happily-ever-afters, she dreamt of white flowers, a beautiful gown, and lots of sweets. 

Puking her guts out over the railing of a ship on the morning of her wedding wasn't what she had imagined.

However, that was exactly what was happening. The sun broke above the crest of the water, blinding Fidelia as she leaned over the railing once again. Lord Greyville had informed her before they finally retired last night that he had arranged for the captain to marry them in secret the next evening. The captain, he said, was a good friend who could be discreet with such delicate matters.

It was almost unbelievable that they were to be married. 

Although she had been nothing but a stable master's daughter, that hadn't stopped her from desperately seeking the young lord's affection as she followed William around on his adventures with Charles and Edmund when they were all children together at Durham Castle. He had never given her more than the begrudged courtesy due a friend's younger, annoying sister. 

The irony would have made her laugh if she weren't so ill.

The wood, rough and scoured by the sea, lurched again beneath her hands and she groaned. Could this possibly get any worse? Forget propriety, Fidelia thought as she sagged against the railing miserably. Forget any ideas of a blushing bride in a beautiful gown. Fidelia was sure that whatever Lord Greyville had imagined in a wife, a pale green mess in an old, unwashed gown was not it.

"Oh, Lady Greyville. You look truly awful!" a sickly-sweet voice said with delight.

"How kind of you to say," Fidelia coughed dryly, wiping at her mouth.

Fidelia mustered the strength to glare at the woman who had come to join her at the railing. It was that Miss Palmer, the one who had got­ten her into this wedding mess. Other than Lord Greyville, she was the very last person Fidelia wanted to face just then. She would have even preferred Le Coquin to Miss Palmer, at least then no one could blame her for shooting the creature.

Miss Palmer looked around the deck with a sniff of disdain. "This ship is not the finest I have sailed upon, to be sure." Miss Palmer waved her hand airily. "My father is a very wealthy merchant, you know. He made his wealth in trade with America, but then this ghastly war started a few days ago and our ship was confiscated. We barely escaped."

"How frightful," Fidelia rolled her eyes. The Eurydice was massive and yet Miss Palmer claimed it wasn't very fine? Beyond the main deck, the ship had several other levels: the quarter deck, the forecastle, the poop deck, and sterncastle, but Fidelia had yet to learn which was which. Fidelia's stomach suddenly tightened again. "If you'll excuse me, I am not feeling well at the moment."

Miss Palmer's smile grew. "Oh, my dear. Are you not enjoying your honeymoon?"

Fidelia fought the urge to laugh. "On the contrary, I am enjoying it about as much as a pig enjoys its slop."

Miss Palmer faltered at the mention of farm animals and glanced around uncomfortably. "Oh, my." She put a hand up to her mouth as if she were scandalized.

Fidelia grinned. Making the woman as uncomfortable as she was making Fidelia was a victory, no matter how small and petty. Fidelia turned to push herself away from the railing but stopped when she came face-to-chest with Lord Greyville. He glanced between her and Miss Palmer before finally turning an annoyed stare on Fidelia. He didn't seem to appreciate her humor either, Fidelia thought.

"Good morning . . . husband," she said, giving him a mocking curtsey. Lord Greyville shuddered slightly at the word, and Fidelia's pride stung. She reminded herself that it was a good thing she had given up any childish romantic dreams involving Lord Greyville years ago.

"Miss Palmer?" Fidelia asked, eyeing Lord Greyville coyly. "Would you care to take a turn about the deck? Perhaps you can tell me all about my husband. I do so love to learn more about him from his friends."

Lord Greyville's pale blue eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to protest, but it was too late. Miss Palmer cooed with delight and took Fidelia's arm.

"Oh, it would be my pleasure!" Miss Palmer led her away, ecstatic with the opportunity to gossip.

Fidelia glanced over her shoulder at Lord Greyville, who glowered back at her. She winked and he reddened. Serves him right, she thought. This is all his fault anyway.

"Lord Greyville is the most eligible man of the ton," Miss Palmer began with an air of someone who was in the know. But her voice was disappointed when she added, "Or was, I should say. There will be many broken hearts when news spreads of his marriage."

"Yes. He always was quite the catch," Fidelia agreed, remembering the way the other girls in the nearby village had come to sit in the or­chard trees to watch him practice his fencing. It was strange how clear her memories of him were, even after ten years.

"You must have done something truly remarkable to snare him," Miss Palmer said, making Fidelia bristle. Was she implying that Fidelia had done something improper? That she had forced Lord Greyville to marry her? It was his harebrained idea!

They had rounded the first corner of the main deck but found their path blocked by a group of crew members scrubbing the floor. They turned around and drew close to Lord Greyville again. A wicked plan blossomed in Fidelia's mind. "Oh, hasn't he told you our story? It's quite romantic, I assure you."

Lord Greyville's cheeks became an even deeper red, and Fidelia fought the urge to laugh at his discomfort. She refused to back down, however. "Do tell her, William darling, how you wrote to me for years, begging for my favor." They had stopped walking and stood by the rail­ing again, next to Lord Greyville.

Lord Greyville opened and closed his mouth in surprise as he glanced guiltily at Miss Palmer. "Er . . . " He coughed into his fist. "Yes. I was . . . quite smitten."

"Truly." Fidelia cocked her head, twirling a tangled strand of hair between her fingers as she delighted in Lord Greyville's distress. "He wrote sonnets about my hair—"

"Wiry as a dog's, is how I described it, I believe," Lord Greyville added.

"Yes, like his favorite hunting dog," Fidelia said, forcing a smile. "And he sang praises about my eyes—"

"Murky, algae-filled pools, wasn't it?" Now it was Lord Greyville who was smiling, a crease forming in his cheek and crinkling his beard. Was he enjoying this? This was supposed to be her victory, not his.

"Priceless emeralds, darling," she clenched her hand around Miss Palmer's arm a little too tightly.

Miss Palmer squeaked, and Fidelia released her arm, offering a quick apology. Lord Greyville snorted.

"Oh, dear. Yes, I see you two certainly have deep feelings for each other." Miss Palmer seemed resigned, but then her smile brightened. "True love is a rare find in marriage. I am very happy for you, Lord Greyville."

"Ha!" Fidelia muttered, glaring at Lord Greyville. Deep feelings, indeed. Fidelia would never describe it as love. Loathing, perhaps, but never love.

"I must say, Lord Greyville, you had us all fooled," Miss Palmer said. "We had supposed that you would make an offer to Miss Thorpe. The two of you seemed so enamored." Miss Palmer looked between Fidelia and Lord Greyville curiously.

Fidelia's stomach lurched again, and she wasn't sure if it was from the rocking of the boat this time. Her future husband was in love with another woman? And yet he would still marry Fidelia, all for a promise he made to Charles?

"Miss Thorpe?" Fidelia asked, and she couldn't stop the heat that crawled up her neck.

"Yes, she and Lord Greyville—" Miss Palmer began eagerly, but Lord Greyville cut her off.

"We were nothing more than friends. Now, if you will excuse me, I must speak with the captain about . . . business." Lord Greyville bowed to them and turned on his heel. Fidelia watched him go, trying to decipher the way his shoulders had stiffened at the mention of Miss Thorpe, the way his eyes softened. He must truly love that woman, Fidelia thought with a sinking feeling. Not only was she being forced to marry, but her soon-to-be husband had already given his heart away to another.