by Carol Arens
He supposed he ought to know, but he was only recently a ship owner. There was more he did not know about the way things worked than what he did.
‘The previous owner didn’t offer it.’
Perhaps he ought to have. Mr McClure had gone bankrupt. It’s how Rees had been able to purchase the ship at a reasonable price.
From what he had learned of the situation, the man was more concerned with setting a record time for an Atlantic crossing than anything else. Apparently, there was fierce competition among ship owners to make the fastest crossing time.
McClure had put that before anything else. As a result, he had neglected the welfare of the passengers. Even the crew tended to be careless of their comfort. Word had spread and passengers booked more pleasant passage. Naturally the venture failed and he never did make the quickest time.
‘Tell me again, Captain, what might go wrong within the fire room.’
He’d heard it all before, but it still bore repeating.
People entrusted their well-being into his hands. While he hired fellows to see to some things, it was for Rees to monitor the most important ones.
It would be unconscionable for him to remain in Glenbrook while there was the smallest chance that a careless accident might cause harm to his passengers.
So far his watching had confirmed that McClure did not hire the most capable of men.
‘The heat needs to remain constant. Sudden cooling might damage a valve which could cause a furnace to explode. Watch for that, Lord Glenbrook, first of all.’ The Captain plucked at one of his coat buttons.
Rees nodded while he continued to scan the dock with the spyglass.
All the way from Liverpool he’d been posing as a fireman, working right alongside labourers in the boiler room. He had a fairly good idea now what hell must be like. Heat, sweat, filth and aching muscles—it was barely a fit job for a human, common born or not. Although he had come to see that there was nothing common about the men he worked beside.
Even though his muscles ached and sweat drenched him most of the time, he would continue the business of shovelling coal.
While he scanned the telescope across the ticket office on the other side of the road, a movement caught his eye. He focused the lens on a stack of barrels.
Yes! Just there a man crouched, peeking out from behind a barrel. Evidently he did not want to be seen.
He appeared to be watching a woman standing at the ticket counter. The lady glanced over her shoulder. She could not see the fellow from her vantage point.
What could he want with her? Clearly something was not as it should be.
With her ticket in hand, the woman turned from the ticket booth. The smile she had given the ticket master lingered on her face. For an instant, Rees forgot he was looking for careless employees because he was certain he had just glimpsed the face of an angel. Fair hair blew in fine whips from under her hat and her wide blue eyes sparkled even in the gloom of the cloudy morning—but it was her smile that captivated him. All the sweetness and innocence of the world were reflected on her lips.
But wait! The man emerged from behind the barrels an instant before the lady hurried away.
Rees was by nature a protector and he knew when someone needed protecting.
While the man spoke to the ticket master, the angel ducked behind a pile of wood crates. Seconds later, the child who had been weeping so desperately dashed away from her family. She ran behind the crates where the woman was hiding.
He switched his focus back to the man standing at the ticket office. The fellow slammed his fist on the counter, then glanced about before he spun on his heel and walked away.
A spyglass was an interesting device. Captain Collier must have seen all manner of interesting happenings over the years.
He was about to hand the glass back when the woman and the child came out from behind the crates, hand in hand.
The child was no longer crying, but rather grinning broadly. With the lens focused so closely, he clearly understood what was happening. The angel not only returned the girl to her parents, but pressed the ticket she had just purchased into the mother’s hand.
After a few quick hugs, the family hurried up the gangplank, laughing and looking joyful.
The lady who had just given up her ticket stood where she was, glancing about, her winglike brows pressed in thought.
What would she do now? Clearly she was not a lady of means who could simply purchase a new ticket.
A prosperous-looking family began to embark. So excited were they about boarding the great ship with her whistle blowing and her red stacks steaming, they took little note that the angel had joined them. She walked slightly behind, head bent and giving the appearance of being a servant to them.
He followed their progress with the glass. The family passed the fellow collecting tickets and stepped aboard. Smiling, with wisps of blonde hair streaking across her cheeks, the angel followed, but was prevented from boarding when the ticket collector blocked her way with his outthrust arm.
She had no ticket, after all. The employee was only doing his duty in forbidding her.
Still, he must have steel for a heart, being able to withstand her smiles as she gestured after the family who had no idea she had tried to filter in with them.
She made a motion with her hand, searched through her purse as if she should have a ticket, but where was it?
In the face of her pleading the employee stood firm.
‘Another one attempting to stow away,’ the Captain commented with a resigned sigh. ‘Although I’ve never seen a woman try it. I’ll send for someone to remove her.’
‘Allow her to board.’
‘I beg your pardon, Lord Glenbrook? The woman is as good as a thief.’
‘I must ask again that you call me Mr Dalton.’ Rees handed back the spyglass. ‘Escort the woman aboard.’
‘But—’
‘You will allow her to board.’
Rees groaned when the Captain presented a respectful dip of his head, then went off to do Rees’s bidding. What sort of captain showed deference to a labouring fireman? At this rate his identity would be revealed before they left port.
It was imperative that no one discover who he was. Disguised as a humble fireman he would be able to learn who in the furnace room was reliable and who might be putting his passengers at risk by negligent behaviour.
As difficult a thing it was, not being forthright about who he was, it would remain so. People had given him their fares, entrusted their safety into his care. No matter the discomfort he endured as Mr Dalton, fireman, he would deliver them safely across the Atlantic.
He remained where he was, watching while the woman boarded the ship with the Captain. He couldn’t see it from here without the glass, but he knew the smile she was bestowing on Collier would feel like one of those visions when the sun burst through clouds, casting its light in brilliant rays upon the earth.
Even if the Captain didn’t recognise it as such, it was the way Rees saw it and this was his ship. If he wanted to allow the woman passage, she would have it.
He only wondered if he would cross paths with her during the voyage.
It was better that he didn’t. Miss Bethany Mosemore waited for him in Glenbrook. Unless he could find a way out of it, she was going to become his wife. He had only recently discovered what a great mistake their union would be.
* * *
Madeline’s stomach growled rather loudly in complaint of missing both breakfast and the midday meal.
The main thing to keep in mind was that she had somehow managed to board the ship. She could only count her blessings for it.
Since that mysterious good fortune had befallen her, perhaps she would also find something to eat.
But where? This was a huge ship. She could search half the day and not find the steerage din
ing room.
It would shorten the process if she asked someone, but who?
Everyone seemed to be in a rush. Her fellow passengers were absorbed in the task of settling into their quarters. The ones who were not leaned over the rail, watching while the ship pulled away from the dock.
Asking a crew member for directions to the dining room was out of the question. Those busy people buzzed about, each of them occupied in getting the ship underway.
She could hardly put the state of her appetite ahead of that.
‘You will simply have to wait,’ she muttered, listening to the growling protest her stomach raised.
‘Is there something I can do to assist you, miss?’ asked a masculine voice from behind her—close behind her.
In fact, half a mile would be too close behind her. The man’s voice had a resonance to it that made her heart beat faster. She did not want her heart to beat faster.
Had she learned nothing from Bertrand Fenster?
Well, ignoring the fellow would be rude and in fact she did need help. With any luck—and she’d had a bit of it so far—the fellow did not look the way his voice indicated he would.
Perhaps when she turned about she would find an elderly, grandfatherly gentleman offering aid.
Comforted by the hope, she pivoted about.
Luck had quite clearly deserted her, leaving her to gaze into the bluest eyes she had ever seen, abandoning her to stare at a smile that quirked with laughter and—and never mind what else it quirked with. She would not have her head turned by a quirk again.
‘I imagine you are hungry,’ he stated.
How could he possibly imagine such a thing? And why was he looking at her with an air of familiarity?
‘Somewhat hungry,’ she admitted because he wore a crewman’s uniform and would be able to direct her to the closest place to obtain a meal.
‘The dining room is that way...’ He lifted his arm and pointed past her shoulder. ‘Just three doors down. If I’m not mistaken, there is scent of fresh bread to lead the way.’
Perhaps there was, but there was also the masculine scent of this man which was suddenly more appealing than bread.
But bread, yes, she was hungry. ‘Thank you, sir.’
She nodded, then turned, feeling the slight vibration of the ship under her shoes as she walked towards the dining room.
Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, she glanced over her shoulder because could a man really be that handsome?
Oh, well, yes, he could.
Chapter Two
‘I, Madeline Claire Macooish,’ she groaned, while wrapping her arms about her belly, ‘being of sound mind—’
Or perhaps not. Had she been that she would be wed to the Earl of Fencroft and not huddled under a lifeboat tarp, dying.
‘Do bequeath all my worldly goods...’ Of which she had none since her small valise had vanished when she set it down in the steerage dining room while pretending that she had as much right to eat there as anyone else.
What she hadn’t known was that poorer-class passengers tended to bring meals with them. Not that she had a dime to purchase what leftovers they might have.
Luckily, a sweet young man, Edward, had shared his bread with her.
Oh, she had been more than grateful at the time for the food and for the company, but now twelve hours later she was certain she would not eat for the rest of her life, of which there was not much left.
Earlier today, she had thought herself lucky when the Captain of the ship told the ticket master that she be allowed to board.
In the moment she had decided it was more strange than lucky. Given that she was clearly a stowaway, it was beyond belief that he would spare her a word or a glance.
Once, when she and Clementine were young, Grandfather had taken them to Paris with him on one of his business trips. She clearly recalled dining with the Captain of the ship. Grandfather had warned them to be on their best behaviour because it was a great honour to dine with the Captain.
So why had this important personage permitted her to come aboard? It certainly was not because she had charmed him. Of course, she tried her best, but the fellow was adamant in his resentment of escorting her up the gangplank.
Indeed, he had left her standing at the rail, gripping it tight while the ship heaved up and down.
Better that she did not think of that motion now.
In the end, the Captain had given no answer to her question of where she was to stay. He’d simply grunted and walked away.
It was all too curious to consider in the moment.
Well, she had told herself she would do whatever it took to get to Grandfather and Clementine, even if it meant sleeping on deck. Of course, she had thought that before it began to rain and before the rolling waves tossed the ship in a way that made her stomach flip inside out.
When she first spotted the lifeboat covered by a tarp and hanging on a pair of hooks, it seemed a sweet haven. It took only an hour for her to feel the effects of the rocking which felt worse than standing on the deck had.
Looking for a new shelter would have been a brilliant idea, except that it was raining. And what a cold piercing rain it was.
On the brighter side of the situation—something she always strove to look for—the lifeboat was only feet from the ship’s rail. It made her frequent trips to vomit over the edge easier.
Of course, that had been hours ago when this journey was still an adventure. All this time later, no matter how she tried, she could not summon her venturesome spirit.
This was no way to die—curled in a wet, shivering ball—no longer having the strength of will or body to go to the rail. If only she had had the good sense not to cross the Atlantic in December.
How long did it take to expire from seasickness and exposure? Too long, no doubt.
But the worst of it was, if she died she would not have the chance to beg Grandfather’s forgiveness, or feel his great strong arms wrap her up and hear him tell her all was well. That nothing mattered except for her coming safely to him.
Instead of Grandfather slaughtering the fatted calf and calling for a great celebration, he would be arranging her funeral.
What she ought to do was get out of the lifeboat, seek help. The thought of the grief he and Clementine would suffer made her heart hurt worse than her belly.
She was the worst granddaughter ever born. She had been given so much, been loved so dearly, and what had she done?
Cast it away for some grand romantic lark, believed the lies of a man who assured her he adored her even without her fortune.
Truly, she had always believed she was smarter than that. She was not going to slip the veil like this. No! She was going to fight.
As she sat up, her stomach heaved. She was dizzy to the point that if she tried to stand she would surely faint. Even if she managed to make it to the rail and pull herself along seeking help, she would no doubt topple over the side. There would be no body for Grandfather to bury and he would wonder what had happened to her for the rest of his life.
Perhaps she would try again in a little while. She curled into herself, trying to imagine that her clothes were not wet, that she was not encrusted in an icicle. No, rather that she was wrapped in a blanket that had been warmed by a fire. That she held a cup of hot tea in her hand which warmed her from the inside out.
Perhaps if she could trick herself into being warm, she would wake in the morning to find the sun shining and her stomach adjusted to the rolling of the ship.
Yes, in the morning she would be stronger, things would be better—perhaps even adventurous. She would find Grandfather and Clementine and prove somehow how desperately sorry she was for betraying them.
* * *
Only a fool, or the owner of a ship that had been cursed with some incompetent employees, would leave his cabin at two in the morn
ing during a bitterly cold Atlantic storm.
Rees doubted he would find anyone neglecting their work at this hour and in this weather, but it could not be discounted.
Which was why he was huddled into his heavy coat and walking the deck, looking for any little thing that might seem out of order.
Better a fool than remiss. Living with the knowledge that something had happened because of his negligence was not a thing he could bear. This was his ship. He was responsible for the lives entrusted to his care.
The problem was, being so new to owning a steamer, he didn’t know exactly what ‘something’ out of place might look like.
He’d simply have to go by his instincts on it. Ordinarily his instincts were reliable.
Rain pelted his face while he walked past the lifeboats, checking them one by one to make sure they were secure. At least he thought it was rain. It felt more like icy pinpricks assaulting his skin.
As wicked as this storm seemed, Captain Collier had assured him that the Edwina was secure, that she had been through worse and with ease.
Still, it could not hurt to make sure the lifeboats were intact.
He might own a ship whose reputation had taken a blow, but, because it had, the Edwina had been a great financial bargain.
In Rees’s opinion, it was important to invest Glenbrook’s wealth in various places. He knew some in society looked down upon ‘being in trade’, so to speak, but when it came to the welfare of those dependent upon the estate, it hardly mattered what society might think.
If hard times came, and they would, his people would be protected.
And as far as wagging tongues went, he was only a viscount. Gossip over him would not be nearly as ripe as for a duke or an earl.
He stopped suddenly, staring at the row of lifeboats. Something was not quite right here. All of the boats were swaying, but one of them in a different rhythm than the others. It appeared to be carrying a weight that the others did not.
