“That’s reassuring,” Arianne said. At least one person on the boat was brilliant. It certainly wasn’t her. Rafferty would waltz out of her life in just a few days. Knowing that, a brilliant person would put her emotions under lock and key.
“A wonderful couple,” Mrs. Summers said again as Rafferty and Eva swirled past. “A perfect match.”
THE NEXT DAY, ARIANNE DESPAIRED AT THE LIMITED confines of her cabin, the boat, and unfortunately, the company. Mrs. Summers seemed ever underfoot. Arianne was free of her only when she was teaching the etiquette class, and that aspect of the trip had become humdrum and monotonous.
She watered the plants she’d brought from England, then fussed with her vials of fragrance out of boredom. Kathleen had reported that Miss St. Claire would again not be present for a morning etiquette lesson. If today was similar to the previous week, Arianne suspected the actress would make a surprising recovery by afternoon.
“Is it seasickness?” she’d asked Kathleen.
“I wouldn’t know, miss,” the maid had replied, averting her gaze.
Once Kathleen had finished her duties and left, Arianne repeated her question to Mrs. Summers. “Do you think Miss St. Claire is truly ill, or do you suppose there is another cause for her absence?”
Mrs. Summers looked over her glasses. “What are you suggesting?”
“I just wonder . . .” Arianne took a seat across from Mrs. Summers. “She’s always ill in the mornings. My brother said that when he made the crossing he was ill at all times.”
“Then perhaps it’s not seasickness,” Mrs. Summers replied dispassionately. “She’s an actress eager to leave London. She could be with child, but that shouldn’t matter, as she’s playing the role of a contented wife.”
“Contented wife. I believe my mother’s experience shows that to be a contradiction in terms.”
Mrs. Summers put down her pen. “Your mother was an exception, Arianne, not the rule. Many women find joy in marriage.”
“Joy?” Arianne made a pretense of sniffing at an opened bottle of lavender water. She had thought there’d be joy in submitting to one’s husband, or one’s soon-to-be husband. However, her experience with the Baron had divested her of such foolishness. She recapped the bottle. “I don’t see why. Anyway, as Eva is not married, this conversation is pointless.”
Mrs. Summers cocked her head, then removed her glasses. “Is something wrong? You seem particularly snippy of late.”
Arianne opened her mouth to protest but realized Mrs. Summers had a point. She shrugged and placed the lavender water back in her traveling case. “I suppose I’m bored. There’s not much to do on this ship. I’ve already read the book I brought for this crossing. There are no newspapers to follow the events of the day.” She stood and stretched her arms. “I’m weary of card games, I’ve seen all of Phineas’s magic tricks, and there aren’t many people to talk to.” She decided not to mention her discomfort at the “contented wife” observation in regard to Miss St. Claire. She wasn’t certain why the concept pricked her so.
Mrs. Summers sighed. “I don’t know how you will ever survive living alone in that country house. You thrive on the excitement of city living.”
“I won’t be alone,” Arianne said. “You’ll stay there with me, won’t you?”
Mrs. Summers glanced at her. “Perhaps you should go up to the top deck for some fresh air. Captain Briggs mentioned Mr. Rafferty maintains quite a selection of books in his quarters. If you speak to the captain, I’m certain he could arrange for you to borrow a few.”
It was a good idea, and she could use something new to read. Smiling, she reached for her gloves and parasol. “Captain Briggs. Not Mr. Rafferty?”
Mrs. Summers placed her glasses back on her nose and picked up her pen. “I imagine Mr. Rafferty, like Miss St. Claire, is difficult to find in the mornings. It wouldn’t surprise me if the two are taking their married roles seriously.”
That made her pause. Arianne’s smile faded. “I won’t be long,” she said as she left the cabin.
THE SEA BRINE GREETED HER BEFORE SHE OPENED THE door that separated the steps from the top deck. She hoped to see Rafferty, just to remove the sore taste left from Mrs. Summers’s comment, but he was nowhere to be seen. She stayed as far from the rail as she could manage, though it was difficult not to catch the expanse of the ocean from the corner of her eye. Anxiety tumbled in her stomach, not unlike the powerful engine that drove the Irish Rose forward amid great rumbling and vibration. With one hand on the metal housing of the interior and the other clasping her parasol, she walked toward the bow and under the raised area the captain had called the bridge. The exercise felt invigorating, the day pleasant. She turned toward the stern, and about midship, she noticed a gathering of men and boys cheering and shouting. She could only see the backs of the crowd, but curiosity pulled her forward.
She meant to stay on the outskirts of the bawdy crowd, but a group of gawking young men joined in the fray behind her. Soon she was jostled into the midst of the gathering. She spied Phineas watching and cheering along the inner ring of the group. She worked her way to his side.
“Lady Arianne,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
A dull thud rent the air followed by a loud cheer. She turned toward the middle of the circle to see Rafferty in fisticuffs with a swarthy, bare-chested bear of a man. Her jaw dropped in shock. Blood trickled from Rafferty’s nose and spotted his shirt.
“Hit him again!” someone yelled.
The larger man pulled back his fist. Arianne was about to shout “No!” but before the words could leave her mouth, Rafferty adeptly shifted his weight, avoiding the punch. Her lips pressed in a line. This was ridiculous. Someone would get hurt with such nonsense. She lowered her parasol, thinking to use it as a weapon to knock sense into the two fighting men. Phineas’s arm barred her way before she could step forward.
“Let them fight,” he said. “Rafferty can hold his own.”
Indeed, she saw Rafferty land a punch to the man’s ribs. Before the larger man could recover, Rafferty followed with his left hand, catching the man on his chin. He staggered back from the blow, and the crowd cheered.
Her eyes slipped over Rafferty’s muscular form, his broad back, the confidence of his movements. A delicious sort of appreciation washed over her and settled in her belly. A lady shouldn’t enjoy such an exhibition of brute strength. But she couldn’t deny that in this instance, she did. Unlike his opponent, Rafferty fought in his shirt and braces. She found herself wishing he weren’t such a man of decorum.
“Why are they fighting?” she shouted to Phineas.
“Why else? Boredom and ignorance.” He pointed to Rafferty’s opponent. “The big bloke there is new to the Rose. He insinuated that Rafferty was a traitor, so Rafferty punched him.”
Phineas’s tone suggested Rafferty had no other choice. She watched the two of them grapple as if in some strange primitive dance. The oaf threw a punch that missed its intended target but caught Rafferty’s shoulder. Rafferty landed a punch with much greater effect.
“Why would anyone call Rafferty a traitor?” she asked. Perhaps this was the ignorance to which Phineas had alluded.
Phineas glanced at her askance. “You really don’t understand the emotional pull of home rule, do you?” he added as cheers accompanied another of Rafferty’s punches.
“I know that home rule is the term some use for an independent Ireland.”
Phineas nodded. “England hasn’t granted that independence, so England is often viewed as the enemy by the Irish. Rafferty works for England. So the Irish—” His sentence was interrupted by more cheers.
“Call him a traitor,” Arianne finished. How ridiculous. Anyone who knew Rafferty would know of his love of Ireland. “I suppose that’s what you meant by ignorance,” she yelled over the noise of the crowd.
Phineas shook his head. “I meant that anyone who challenges Rafferty to a fistfight is a bloody fool.” Then he smiled. “But the o
ther is true as well.”
As if to punctuate that observation, Rafferty’s fist connected to the larger man’s jaw with a bone-to-bone crunch. The oaf staggered for a moment, then crumpled to the ground. The crowd swarmed into the center of the circle, reaching to pat Rafferty on the back. On the far side of the circle, Mr. Barings exchanged money with another man. They weren’t the only ones.
Many of Rafferty’s exuberant well-wishers, she noted, were gawky older boys and young men—reminding her of those boys on the dock. They surrounded him, reaching out to pat his back or shake his hand. As Rafferty moved, so did his followers.
Someone dumped a pail of water onto the “bloody fool.” The man sat up and shook his head like a dog in the rain. Rafferty reached a hand down and helped him up. They shook hands, though she wondered if the oaf was fully aware of his actions. Then Rafferty turned toward Phineas and froze.
His gaze searched hers. He raised his arm to wipe the blood and sweat of battle on his sleeve, all the while jostled by his supporters.
She wasn’t sure what she should do. She didn’t truly condone fighting in such a brawlish manner. Certainly it wasn’t the sort of thing in which a diplomat should indulge. But at the same time, she was proud of him, gladdened by his success. He’d stood up for himself and didn’t allow the oaf to besmirch his name. In hindsight, she wished she would’ve done something similar for herself when the Baron made her out to be a fool. Her lips slipped into a smile. Good for Rafferty.
His lips hesitantly turned up as well. Soon she could see his dimple flash even as he was jostled by the well-wishers. Then, Eva stepped from the crowd. She rushed to Rafferty, brushing a moistened handkerchief against his injuries.
It wouldn’t surprise me if the two are taking their married roles seriously. Mrs. Summers’s words struck at Arianne’s heart as she watched Eva’s ministrations. The woman certainly didn’t look ill as Kathleen had reported that morning. Eva hadn’t dressed in a fashionable day dress. Her long hair lifted loose in the breeze, she didn’t wear a hat, nor did she carry a parasol. She had none of the required accoutrements for the role she had deigned to play, yet she had Rafferty’s full attention as she dabbed the cloth near the corner of his lip. Instantly, Arianne realized she didn’t fit here, in this gathering. She had not been invited nor particularly wanted.
Being the outsider, the misfit, was not unfamiliar. She knew the tightening of the throat and heaviness in her stomach from the holidays she stayed at school because her father didn’t want her home. That sense of dismissal was revisited when so many men avoided her simply on the basis of that ridiculous nickname. She was the intruder, the one that didn’t belong, just as she had been for most of her life. The one others carefully walked around, afraid to touch . . . afraid to love . . . afraid to marry.
Phineas turned to collect a wager and didn’t notice as she joined the dissolving crowd. No one missed her as she walked away. No one noticed the straightened spine or her rapid blinking to keep tears at bay. Mrs. Summers was wrong. Arianne knew she’d be perfectly content in her country sanctuary away from the people who would hurt her by exclusion, gossip, and rejection. She didn’t require their presence any more than they requested hers. Once she delivered Rafferty and his actress to their Washington destination, she’d book a ticket on the largest steamer she could find and retire to the country where she wasn’t constantly confronted with all that she was not.
RAFFERTY TURNED HIS HEAD TO SEE ARIANNE, BUT SHE was gone. Part of his victory elation drained out of him. Where did she go? He had expected her to be disappointed that once again he hadn’t lived up to her diplomatic standards. He had failed her. But then she smiled, almost as if she was proud of his victory. What a moment that had been . . . and now . . . was gone.
The crowd dispersed as the men returned to their stations. Rafferty thanked Eva for her attentiveness, then accepted the congratulations of Mr. Barings, who appeared by her side. That done, he made his way to where Phineas counted his winnings before anyone else could intervene.
“I’m pleased to see that you made a profit on my fists,” Rafferty observed.
“I’m not a foolish man, Rafferty. I take advantage when I can.” Phineas shook the hand of the man who had just paid him.
“Lady Arianne was here. Where did she go?”
“Go?” Phineas glanced around the deck. “She can’t be far.” He smiled at Rafferty. “It’s a small ship.”
Rafferty cursed beneath his breath. Phineas was of no help. “I can’t go running after her. Not smelling and looking like this.” Rafferty checked the starboard side for the seductive swish of skirts beneath a lacy parasol. Finding none, he turned back to Phineas. “Did Kelly have supporters?”
“Only the foolish ones that believe size is all that matters,” Phineas said. “Every dog has supporters when money rides on the outcome.”
Rafferty nodded, hesitant to ask the question for which he was afraid of the answer.
“She was worried about you,” Phineas said, his voice lowered. “I could see it in her eyes . . . and indignant that someone would challenge your loyalty.”
“Indignant?”
Phineas nodded. “If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have taken Kelly on herself. She pointed that parasol like a military general.”
The image of Arianne as a general made him smile. She would preside over the battle as she had over an eleven-course meal. That the very proper sister of a duke was willing to do battle to defend his name lessened the recurring sting of accusation. But that didn’t explain why she left.
“What about Eva?” Rafferty asked.
“I didn’t see her until the fight was over. Do you still think she’s the lady in green?”
“It would make the most sense.” Rafferty pushed his hair back. He had to admit, even if Arianne did butcher his hair, the cut was more comfortable on a warm day such as this. Glancing down the main deck again, he wondered why he felt the need to find her. He’d see her in an hour or so for another of those blasted lessons, when she would criticize something about his clothes, his manner. Perhaps this time she’d criticize the way he held his fists, his fighting stance. The thought brought a smile to his lips.
“Go,” Phineas said. “Wash up for your diplomat lessons. I’ll ask around to see if anyone wanted your blood for more than the shillings a wager would bring. Maybe that will lead to the lady in green.”
So Rafferty returned to his cabin for a quick wash and a change of shirt. However, when he reported to the saloon, Mrs. Summers was there alone.
“Lady Arianne is not feeling well,” she said, her eyes narrowed in accusation. “She asked that I take her place.”
Eva arrived, dressed in one of Arianne’s reworked day dresses.
“Now that you are both here, we’ll start with a review of the salutations of the various foreign heads of state by country and hierarchy. We shall begin with the Russians . . .”
Eleven
“A STORM IS BREWING,” PHINEAS COMMENTED AS the lone server placed bowls of a thin soup before the diners. “It’s building in the east. Looks like we’ll be in for some rough weather.”
“A storm?”
Rafferty glanced to Arianne. Those were the first words he’d heard from her lips today. Normally she was the perfect conversationalist, engaging those around her to exchange pleasantries. But she’d kept her gaze to her plate thus far this evening, avoiding conversation. Just as she had all day by hiding in her cabin. Just as she intended to continue hiding if those fear-rounded eyes were any indication.
Captain Briggs cleared his throat. “I’m trying to avoid it by running south. The worst of it should pass behind us, but I’ve instructed the cook to serve a light meal, just in case. It’s going to be a horse race.”
Mr. Barings groaned. “Don’t speak to me of races. I’ve lost one purse already.”
“With your experience behind the wheel, I’m sure we’ll be in no danger.” Mrs. Summers smiled at Captain Briggs. Rafferty could swear
that the man’s chest expanded with the compliment. Come to think of it, Briggs had been taking supper with the passengers more frequently this week.
“You shouldn’t have bet against Mr. Rafferty,” Arianne interjected, catching Rafferty’s attention.
What’s this? She was defending him? She raised her gaze to meet his.
“He was fighting for his honor,” she said. “One should take extraordinary measures to protect their honor. Once lost, it is irretrievable.”
There was such a haunted, almost desperate quality to her eyes that for a moment he thought she spoke from experience. That wouldn’t be possible. Not for Lady Upper Crust. He captured her gaze, but after a pause she glanced aside.
“While I don’t approve of the brutality of pugilism,” Mrs. Summers said, “I’m not aware of this question of honor. What precipitated the disagreement?”
“A bloody brute of a man suggested Mr. Rafferty was not a true son of Ireland,” Phineas said.
“There are those,” Rafferty said, “that believe indiscriminate bombings are the only path to independence. I am not one of them.”
“Yet you resorted to violence to protect your claim.” Mr. Barings picked up his wineglass and leaned forward. “Interesting. Don’t most disputes for independence result in a war?” Eva fidgeted beside him, a telling nervous gesture. “Perhaps your objection is not to violence but to independence itself,” Barings concluded.
The sound of silver hitting china echoed round the table. Rafferty withdrew his bandaged knuckles to his lap. “What precisely are you suggesting, sir?” he challenged.
“I’m suggesting it was wise of Lord Barnell to have you sent to America so you wouldn’t disrupt his important work back in England.”
“Lord Barnell . . . ?” Rafferty repeated. Could it be true? Could Barnell be behind Rafferty’s selection as British minister? He glanced to Arianne as if she held the truth.
Redeeming the Rogue Page 14
