The blush started in her toes. How could she have asked such common questions of Drake's own aunt?
Lady Boyle laughed. "You didn't think he'd leave you with just anyone, did you, my dear? Pierson has shown more than average care for you this journey. I wouldn't be surprised if the announcement for your betrothal was made before the end of the Season."
"But I don't want to get married," Thea blurted out.
"That explains your age." The other woman's assessing glance made Thea squirm. "You're too lovely to be a spinster for lack of offers. Though living on a heathen island like you did might explain it as well. For all that you lived with Ashby and Ruth Merewether."
The old lady knew a great deal about her as well. Gossip was rife aboard ship.
"I cannot believe that you would be content with a spinster raised on a heathen island as the wife of your nephew."
Lady Boyle put her knitting away and settled back to view the scenery. "It has always been my experience that Pierson gets what he wants, and he obviously wants you. No use his family putting up a ruckus about it."
Perhaps he did want her, but Thea doubted very much it was for any position so permanent as that of his wife.
"Aunt Josephine, it appears you have worn Miss Selwyn out with your chatter."
Thea's head listed to one side, her eyes closed in sleep. The softened features of her face enhanced the aura of vulnerability that she tried so hard to hide. She wanted him to believe that she needed no one and could take care of herself. He knew better.
He was not convinced that her near miss the first day they had met had been an accident. The facts spoke for themselves. For barrels that size to topple would have required a very strong man pushing them. That made it a purposeful act of aggression against Thea. Considering her vocal views against slavery, it was not a far-fetched scenario.
He did not scrutinize his feelings of relief that she had insisted on sailing with him. He knew only that he was glad she was safely away.
"She dozed off a quarter of an hour ago." Lady Boyle stood and shook out her skirts. "I'm returning to my cabin for tea and a game of cribbage with Mrs. Coombs."
"Thank you for staying with her."
His great-aunt nodded acceptance of his thanks. "She's a delightful gel. Not at all put off by your birth, you know."
Drake's hand that rested on the top of Thea's chair tightened. "You told her?"
"Of course. You've already compromised her beyond redemption. She has no choice but to marry you. The gel at least had the right to know what she was getting into."
Drake wanted to hit something. Anything. "I have not compromised her."
"How do you think your visits to her cabin look to the passengers on board, nevvy?"
"I don't bloody well care."
"Perhaps not. But it's likely Miss Selwyn will, particularly when they refuse her admittance to their houses or word of this gets back and she is not extended vouchers to Almack's."
Had he done that to her? "But her maid has always been present on my visits. I behave as chaste as a bloody eunuch when I'm with her."
"Are you telling me you don't want to marry the gel?"
His aunt had a way of focusing on the important and dismissing the trivial.
"I don't know."
"Well, you had best decide soon." With that the older woman turned and walked away, her skirts swishing her disapproval with every step.
Marry Thea? He had always planned to marry a lady high in the ton. A woman above reproach who would prove to his father and everyone else in the ton that Drake was not beyond the pale. That he was worthy of recognition.
True, the one serious relationship he had carried out with a woman of quality had ended badly. He had a much more cynical view of women and marriage in the polite world now. It was a business arrangement between two interested parties. That was how he intended to handle his own marriage. After this trip, he would have enough money to buy and sell most of his peers. Although the ton made a pretense of turning its nose up at blunt, Drake knew that his ready cash would buy him a more than respectable wife. It would buy him a bloody paragon.
He didn't want a paragon, though. He wanted Thea—and her virginal innocence dictated he possess her only within the bounds of matrimony.
The wind picked up and Thea shivered in her sleep. He bent down and lifted her, quilt and all, into his arms. Though her eyes were closed, her face wore a small frown. She must be dreaming about something unpleasant.