[The Inconvenient Matches series is comprised entirely of stand alone novels that can be read in any order]
Forced into marriage by duty and obligation, The Duke and Duchess of Rothbury parted ways a week after saying their vows under the explicit u...
'I am going to have the lot of you sacked. I am going to make sure you never set foot on a rowboat, much less a ship, ever again.' Minerva announced with lethal calm as a trepid silence blanketed the room. The two crewmen turned pale as the captain's lips thinned into a frustrated line. Minerva fought back tears of fury as she saw her husband never having looked worse for wear. His clothes were in disarray, he was sporting a purple bruise on his cheek and was currently casting up his accounts into a bucket with such violence Minerva felt her own stomach turn. Minerva kept her eyes on Ben's hunched form, letting it whet her rage.
'There is no need to overreact. He's mostly in the same condition we found him in.'
'Overreact? Overreact?!' Minerva snarled as she turned her fury at Captain. 'You have my husband in shackles! His lip is split! His jacket is torn!'
Duchess, who was crouched over Ben's prone form, let out a hiss of agreement. Ben groaned, his head still hung over the bucket.
'Would you rather we let every ruffian attempting to steal their way into first-class do so without any recompense? I imagine a woman of a station as high as Your Grace's would be the first to withdraw her patronage if that were so.' The captain responded tersely. Minerva's mouth opened and closed with no response found.
'Well, you might have treated him with some compassion!' She settled on, finally.
'Your husband attacked my crew.'
'He would never.' She turned to her horribly seasick husband. 'Tell them you didn't.'
Ben's green face somehow flushed with his guilt.
Oh, bollocks!
She looked around the room searching for any way to not concede the point to the haughty captain. She saw three pairs of irritated eyes and realized that her only ally was once again casting his guts up into the bucket.
Oh, double bollocks.
'Oh, very w-well! I am sorry for all the fuss,' she sighed petulantly. Perhaps ingratiating herself in front of the captain may prevent the chances of her husband getting thrown overboard. 'We shall be more than happy to speak to your company about your professionalism. I thank you for all your vigilance. Please help me carry my husband to my suite.'
'Not so fast, madam.' The captain replied tersely. 'On my ship, unruly passengers are not set free with only a slap on the wrist. You will be fined. And your husband's deck privileges are revoked for the next two weeks until he proves that he can behave himself.'
'You cannot confine him to his rooms! He is seasick.' She gasped in outrage. 'He needs the fresh air!'
Ben, helpfully, vomited once more. How much could one man even produce that much?
'How unfortunate. If your husband needs his deck privileges so badly, he is welcome to stay in third class, they have access to the lower decks, as you well know.'
Ben shook his head in desperate appeal. The bloody captain held all the cards.
'Oh, very well! Please just have him carried to my room.'
'Of course, Your Grace.' The captain somehow managed to make his bow disrespectful.
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