A/N: My heartfelt apologies to all of you have been patiently waiting for me to update. Real life got in the way and killed my creative juices. However, they now have returned and I hope are juicer than ever. ;)

As Bertie shrugged on his jacket, he thought of how much he preferred dressing without the assistance of a valet hovering about and fussing at him. It was a luxury he would soon have to forfeit. They were only two days away from England at most and, if the favorable winds continued, they might even dock tomorrow.

Contemplating his image in the looking glass, Bertie let out a sigh. Several weeks had passed since the night he awoke to find Millicent nursing him, several weeks during which he and Millicent had reached a tentative truce. No, that was not accurate. The two of them had reached more than a mere truce. Their relationship has flourished. Flourished to the point where an offer of marriage would not be out of the question. Yet, he was hesitant to propose to Millicent.

He liked living a bachelor's life and settling down had never been the most attractive option. Millicent was most definitely not the type of woman he had thought to one day marry. Hell, she could barely be considered a woman at her tender age. Suddenly Bertie felt every one of his years.

But more and more, he had found himself considering the idea. The last few weeks had allowed him to glimpse facets of Millicent that he doubted many had ever seen. There was a great deal more to Miss Witherspoon than initially met the eye. For one thing, she had a good mind, when she chose to use it for more than discussing gossip. For another, she had a wicked sense of humor, if perhaps sometimes a touch mean. And, of course, there was the passion that seemed to flare between them whenever they were in proximity. Bertie release an anguished groan. He might as well face facts; he was well and truly ensnared. This was not the sort of infatuation that would fade in a few months' time. No, this was the type of feeling that could only exist when you wholly loved person- warts and all.

Bertie ruthlessly squashed the rush of joy he felt at finally acknowledging his love. This was not a time for celebration, for there was no cause to believe that she felt the same. She felt affection for him, but did she love him? Of that, he was not so certain. If he had to guess, he would suppose that she had neatly placed him in a mental box labeled 'amusing but not appropriate for marriage.'

The solution to this problem was easy enough to identify. Yet, he was not ready to take that route. Millicent Witherspoon felt something for him, of that he was convinced. It was only a matter if she was willing to overlook his humble stature. Would she be able to see far enough past her pretty nose to give herself to a man instead of a title?

As he finished tying his cravat, he made a decision. There was only one way to find the answer to questions. Tonight, he would take the plunge and propose.

Millicent nervously fussed with the lace at her décolletage. She berated herself for doing so because it was unladylike and unattractive to do so in front of a gentleman, but then it really did not seem to matter. Bertrand Sparrow was not paying the slightest attention to her. He had spent the last ten minutes staring silently out to sea.

Millicent smiled as she thought about what her reaction to his behavior would have been if this had occurred a few months ago. Likely, she would have thrown a tantrum to force him to pay attention to her. And when he had done so, she would have promptly sought out the nearest gentleman and ignored Mr. Sparrow for the next few days, until he had been sufficiently chastised for his error. Her smile widened at her past foolishness. Katherine and Valentine had taught her that, although some games between men and women would always exist, her past methods of dealing with men had yielded what she deserved: men who were mindless sheep. Perhaps that was what she had initially found so appealing about Jack Sparrow? The man was most certainly not a mindless sheep, neither was his cousin. If truth be told, Bertie Sparrow was even more appealing to her than Jack had been.

Growing alarmed at the direction of her thoughts, Millicent softly cleared her throat and inquired, "Did you enjoy the dinner, Mr. Sparrow?" Inwardly, she groaned at the inanity of her comment, but the silence had become intolerable.

Bertie turned, blinked and shook his head, as if surprised to see her standing next to him. "Um…yes, Miss Witherspoon. Dinner was delightful. I believe that, if we continue at this speed, it will be our last aboard ship. Tomorrow, we are likely to reach port. I imagine that you must be excited to arriving. If I am not mistaken, the Season has barely begun. You will have plenty of balls to attend."

Millicent started at Bertie for a moment. He seemed awfully serious, not his usual playful self. The only other times he had been so intense had always resulted in the two of them in each other's arms. But this seemed different. This seemed like he was preparing himself for an unpleasant task. Uncertain of this Bertie, Millicent hid behind chatter, "Yes. Katherine and Val have been filling me on all of the members of the ton. I am a little concerned because both of them have been away from London for so long that things are bound to have changed. I should hate to make a misstep after traveling all this way. I hope that your cousin can fill me on all of the latest on dits. It is so very kind of him to offer all of us his hospitality."

Bertie's felt himself relax a bit at this sign of her nervousness. Good. He was not the only one feeling ill at ease. "Yes. He is a very kind gentleman."

"Neither Val nor Katherine know much about him. They say he has always been a bit of a recluse. They believe he is rather old and perhaps sickly. Evidently, he prefers the country to town. As far as they know, he has never openly participated in society."

"Well, he is not impressed with what he has read and heard of town life."

"Oh." Millicent really was not all that interested in an aging cousin of Bertie's, duke though he might be. Yet the conversation was better than the earlier tension. She was worried that Bertie was going to say goodbye and, though she knew it must occur, she was not yet ready to relinquish her time with him. She was not sure if she would ever be ready to do so. Several silent minutes slid by. "Is he very attractive?'

At the same time Millicent asked her question, Bertie took a fortifying breath and began, "Miss Witherspoon, would you do me…" Bertie ground to a halt as her question registered. He shook his head like a dog shaking off an unexpected spray of water. "What? Why do ask?"

Feeling foolish that she had been caught babbling, Millicent threw out the first excuse that occurred, 'Well, Bertie, he is a duke, after all. Of course, I am interested in learning about him. He's not married and certain to be on the hunt for a wife. Why else would he come to town if he so dislikes it?"

As her words and their implications sank in, Bertie felt a rage slowly build and seep into every crevice of his being. Here he was about to propose to this woman and she was busy calculating her chances of securing another man's affections: his very own cousin, no less. He turned away from her and grasped the railing until his knuckles grew white. It was the only thing preventing him from shaking her until her teeth rattled.

"Bertie? What is wrong?"

He slowly turned back to her, his jaw clenched. "You really have not changed one iota, have you, duchess? I was foolish to think that there was more to you than met the eye. I let myself forget that you are a scheming, marriage minded, social climber."

Millicent stepped back. Puzzled as to what had brought about his anger. She had simply been making silly, idle conversation. Why was he so very angry at her? Millicent gave voice to her question and then took a further few steps backwards as the now seething Bertie advanced on her.

"Now I know why you were being so very pleasant with me. You saw a chance to work your way into my good graces so that I would say nice things about you to the duke. You were laying the foundation for your campaign to land a title. Damn and blast! I am such a fool for not seeing it earlier."

Bewildered, Millicent could not even find it in herself to be angry at the unjust accusation. "Bertie, what are you talking about? I do not even know your cousin. I have only recently heard of him through Katherine and Val."

"Yes, that is just the issue is it not? You need to be properly introduced and recommended as a potential marriage candidate. Who better to do so than his very own cousin? Well, let me inform you, Miss Witherspoon, that you most certainly do not want me voicing my opinion of your character to the duke. I should be forced to tell him what a conniving, little trollop you are."

At the word trollop, Millicent's confusion evaporated. "Trollop? How dare you call me a trollop, Bertie Sparrow? I am nothing of the sort and you very well know it. Go ahead and tell your cousin fanciful lies about me. I am certain that he will be able to tell a lady of quality when he sees one; not like some fools that I could mention."

"Really? Fanciful lies?" A nasty smirk appeared on Bertie's face. "Are you sure of that, duchess? Perhaps I should tell the duke that you and I are already practically kissing cousins, hm? What do you think he would say to that? What would that morsel of information do to your chances of marriage?" Bertie flung the words out, somewhat appalled by his own venom. Remorse was already displacing his anger. There was no excuse for his words. He could only blame the bottomless well of disappointment he felt upon learning that she obviously did not return his feelings. How could she, if she was so blithely pumping him for information on a more suitable candidate for her hand? Love had blinded him and made him a fool. He stood and waited for the expected explosion and inevitable slap and was surprised when it did not come.

"Very well, Mr. Sparrow, you do as you see fit. There were two parties involved in those kisses, one on each end. You may say that I am not a lady for kissing you, but only a true cad would blackmail me about them. I thought that I knew you. I thought that you had honor. Apparently, I was sorely mistaken. Good night, sir. You'll forgive me for seeing myself to my cabin. I no longer wish to be in your company." There were no sign of tears, temper or tantrum in her demeanor as Millicent turned her nose up in the air and regally swept off the deck towards her cabin.

Bertie watched as she turned on her heel and walked away from him. He was confused about how things had gone so very wrong. He had gone from wanting to propose to her to insulting and threatening her. And her response had been calm and measured: every inch the duchess. Somewhere along the line, she had grown into a full blooded woman. A woman who stirred his blood and had captured his heart as no other woman had ever done.

Bertie smiled grimly. This was not over. He would have her and on his terms. It was just a matter of when and not if. After all, Bertrand Sparrow, Duke of Wildbourne, always got what he wanted and he wanted Millicent Witherspoon as his duchess.