by S. G. Rogers
“No, Jillian, you have it wrong,” Sophia said. “I noticed the girls planning to play a trick on you and I knew Archie was part of it. I pressed Logan for his assistance.”
“How could you possibly know Archie was planning to take advantage of me?” Jillian asked, bewildered.
“Because he did the same thing to me last year. Only in my case, I was willing,” Sophia said. Her cheeks reddened, and her eyes dropped to the gazebo floor.
As Jillian gazed at Logan, her heart soared.
“It seems you’ve rescued me yet again,” she said. “I am in your debt, and the ledger balance grows daily.”
He took her into his arms and cradled her in a tender embrace.
“It is you who have rescued me, Miss Roring. I was bitter and angry before—dare I say melancholy? But you have changed my heart.”
Sophia’s mouth dropped open.
“Are you more acquainted with one other than you have confessed?”
Jillian and Logan laughed.
“A little,” they said together.
“I suppose we’ve all been keeping secrets.” Sophia smiled. “Let me escort you both back to the ball so there is no scandal, and then I shall fetch servants to come to Archie’s aid. It’s such a shame he had too much to drink and tripped in the dark at his own party.”
“A terrible shame,” Jillian agreed.
“The sad event has freed up Miss Roring’s dance card considerably, though,” Logan added. “It’s an ill wind that blows no good.”
Needle and thread in hand, Sophia checked Jillian’s dress in the ladies’ sitting room.
“Give a little twirl for me.”
Jillian turned, slowly.
“Yes, you are fine again. There was just a little rip under one arm.” Sophia gave the needle and thread back to the attendant.
“Thank you.” Jillian searched Sophia’s face. “Why are you helping me?”
“I believe my long-neglected sense of decency finally rose from the dead. I repaid your friendship with malice and I’m heartily ashamed of it. Can you ever forgive me? I’ve acted abominably.”
With a smile, Jillian extended her hand. “It’s as you said before. I think we should be good friends.”
Sophia and Jillian sailed into the ballroom together, where the rest of the evening lay before them. Vicar Lewis brightened when he saw Sophia. To Jillian’s surprise, Sophia greeted him warmly.
“Vicar, do you know what I heard just now? My dear friends Miss Grassley, Miss Hanna, and Miss Byron were near coming to blows. I believe they may be a little in love with you.”
“Truly?” The vicar was flustered.
“If you were to dance with each girl, it would be a very Christian thing to do.”
“Why, yes. I shall apply myself to the task right away.”
The vicar hastened off toward Miss Hanna, who was standing alone next to a candelabra. As the orchestra readied their instruments for a polka, Logan appeared at Jillian’s elbow. He had washed up and looked presentable, excepting the faint blue swelling on one cheekbone. As he gazed at Jillian with eyes full of longing, her knees grew weak. He bowed and offered her his arm. “May I have this dance?”
Chapter Twelve
The Ice Captain Returns
THE FIRST FEW DAYS of the ocean voyage, Betsy stayed in her small, elegantly appointed cabin. Although seasickness accounted for portion of her confinement, the larger part was the crippling knowledge she did not truly fit in with the first class passengers. She spent her time trying to iron out her Cockney accent.
“I’m happy ter—to—make yer—you’re—acquaintance, sir. Madam, them’s—those—are beautiful pearls you’re wearing. It’s foin—fine—weather we’re having lately.”
On the fourth day, however, she rallied enough to take breakfast in the common room. She spoke with no one except the waiter, but did manage to observe and emulate the manners of the other ladies as best she could. With slightly elevated confidence, she joined the other passengers strolling on the deck of the ship. Her jaw dropped at the sight of the Atlantic, which looked a great deal larger on deck than it had from her porthole. Dizziness swept over her when she realized there was nothing below the ship’s hull except miles of water. A passing gentleman caught her as she swayed.
“Are you unwell, miss? Would you like me to get help?”
Betsy gazed into the man’s earnest, bespectacled face. He was perhaps a few years older than she was, with a pleasant appearance. She cleared her throat.
“I’m fine, sir. Perhaps a bit o’—er, of sea sickness.”
“Ah. I suffered the same but I am doing better now.” He lifted his hat. “Good day to you, madam.”
As he turned to leave, Betsy slipped his purloined wallet into her reticule. She bit her lip, instantly regretting her actions. Why did I do that? Ladies do not pick pockets! A nearby deck chair beckoned, and she sank onto it. Wispy white clouds scraped the blue skies overhead, as if forming the slightest of barriers between her and heaven. Were she a sparrow, only the slightest change of course would put her on the other side.
A little boy in a sailor suit, perhaps six years old, skidded to a stop next to her chair. He stared at her hat with gray, serious eyes, and pointed at the tiny decorative roses on the crown. “Are those for real?”
It took Betsy a moment to figure out what he was asking. “Oh, no. The flowers are made from ribbon.”
He nodded, once. “You’re pretty.”
A crooked smile lit her face. “Thank you.” She glanced up and down the deck but saw no matrons young enough to be the boy’s mother or governess. “Where’s your mum?”
“She died.”
Her heart melted. “Oh! I’m awfully sorry. Where’s your father, then?”
The boy’s mouth split open in a mischievous grin. One of his front teeth was missing. “It’s time for lessons, so I gave Papa the slip.”
“He will be looking for you.”
“We’re going to America, Papa and I. He’s says we’re starting a whole new life.”
“Aye…I mean yes. That’s me as well.”
“I’m a bit scared, but it’s exciting too. I want to see an Indian.” He studied her a moment, and then made her a little bow. “My name is Kevin Moorecock. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Betsy nodded and smiled. “Miss Abernathy.”
Just then, the boy’s father hurried over; it was the same gentleman who’d spoken to her a few minutes earlier.
“There you are, Kevin! I was worried you’d fallen overboard.”
“Miss Abernathy, allow me to introduce you to Papa,” the boy said. “Papa, this is my new friend. We’re all going to America together.”
“Mr. Moorecock, at your service,” he said, bowing. “Thank you for looking after my son.”
The man took Kevin by the hand and they headed off.
“Excuse me, Mr. Moorecock,” Betsy called out. When he turned, she held out his wallet. “I believe you must have dropped this.”
“Ah, thank you. I didn’t realize it was gone. I’m quite grateful to you, Miss Abernathy.”
He paused and a scarlet flush spread up from his collar. “W-Would you care to have dinner with K-Kevin and me tonight?”
She gulped back a sudden surge of emotion. “Mr. Moorecock, I would be delighted.”
No champagne was required to lift Jillian’s mood as she gazed at her reflection in the looking glass. The diamond necklace and matching earbobs she wore set off her ice blue gown beautifully. Her curled locks had been loosely arranged on top of her head. She turned to smile at her maid.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Alice. My hair is perfect. Do you know if my father and aunt are ready?”
“I believe they are waiting in the drawing room, miss.”
“Could you bring my short Victorine down with you? I don’t think I need a wrap, but I suppose I’d better take one anyway.”
“Yes, miss.”
Jillian gathered up her elbow-length
gloves and floated down the stairs on a cloud of ebullience. In the drawing room, Aunt Letty was perched on a sofa, looking splendid in a black and white satin ball gown. Lars Roring stood next to the fireplace, wearing a black cutaway and white vest tailored to his athletic physique. The blond hair brushed back from his handsome face was only slightly touched by gray. His bright blue eyes, now etched by faint lines, twinkled when his daughter entered the room.
“With you and Letty on my arm, I shall be the most envied man at the ball tonight,” he said in lightly accented English.
Jillian hugged him. “I’m so pleased you’re escorting us. I was a bit worried you wouldn’t be here on time.”
Aunt Letty gave Lars a sidelong glance. “I know a few ladies who will be interested to know you are retiring from the sea.”
The captain’s deep masculine laugh filled the drawing room. “I’ve only been in London a day and already with the matchmaking, Letty?”
“Why not?” Jillian asked. “You are still young, Papa. Besides, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to circulate in London society while you supervise construction of the new ice factory.”
Smiling, Roring picked up his top hat and cape and gestured toward the door.
“After you, ladies.”
Sophia and her mother strolled around Lady Adams’s ballroom, both to admire the floral decorations and to display Sophia’s violet gown to the gentlemen assembled there. The skirt had three flounces and emphasized her tiny waist. Her hair had been dressed with several small satin flowers the same color as her dress.
“You’ve never looked better, Sophia,” her mother murmured. “Just be sure to hold your shoulders back.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Suddenly there was an excited murmur at the ballroom entrance.
“I wonder who has arrived?” Sophia asked.
“Perhaps it is the Duke and Duchess of Rochester,” Mrs. Watkins replied.
“I hope not,” Sophia said. “They have the unfortunate tendency to bring Archie with them.” She craned her neck. “Could it be Prince Albert Edward himself?”
Mrs. Watkins inhaled sharply. Sophia followed her gaze. Standing next to Jillian and Mrs. Marsh was the most gorgeous older man she’d ever seen. His startlingly blond hair reflected the light and his high, sculpted cheekbones begged to be touched.
“Who is that, Mum?” she exclaimed.
Mrs. Watkins sighed and fanned herself with a beautiful lace fan. “The one who got away, dear.”
Jillian giggled inwardly at all the melting glances her father was receiving. Even Lady Adams had simpered like a schoolgirl when he’d greeted her in the receiving line. Mr. Loach came over to shake his hand and to introduce the Ice Captain to his wife. Although it had been nearly twenty years since Lars Roring had been seen in society, his friends had not forgotten him. As the ladies and gentlemen of London society surrounded her father, Jillian discretely stepped back.
“Good evening, Miss Roring.”
She looked up into a pair of Gypsy eyes, and her pulse began to race.
“Good evening, Mr. Logan.”
“Will you walk with me onto the balcony? It has a lovely view of the garden.”
“I should dearly love to see the view, despite the fact that it’s completely dark outside.”
Logan escorted her through the double doors leading to a large balcony, where a floral garland scented the air with heady fragrance. At the railing, Logan stood behind Jillian and slipped his arms around her waist. She closed her eyes and leaned back against him.
“Miss Roring, I can’t seem to stop bothering you, can I?” he murmured.
As he trailed little kisses down her neck, exquisite sensations surged through her body. She reached up to caress his face with her hand.
“You’re not a bother, Mr. Logan. In fact, I beg you to continue.”
“To do so would compromise my honor, unless…well, unless we were married. I love you, Jillian. Say you’ll have me.”
At that, she turned around. Logan gazed at her with a soft and vulnerable expression that turned her insides to molten gold.
“I believe I will have you, Mackenzie.”
As they kissed, she surrendered her heart.
Epilogue
Two Years Later
JILLIAN AND LOGAN STOOD at the entrance of the nursery, watching as Mrs. Lyman rocked the cradle holding their newborn daughter. The adoring expression on the older woman’s face lent it an unaccustomed sweetness.
“I still can’t believe we have our own little ice princess,” Logan whispered.
The housekeeper gave him a scorching glare and made a shushing noise. Giggling, Jillian pulled her husband away from the door. They walked down the stairs together, hand in hand.
“Hawkins and Katie are coming for dinner tonight. It’s just a guess, but I suspect they have some news to share,” she said.
“Such as?”
“Katie’s been growing plump.”
He chortled. “A baby?”
“We’ll know soon enough. Try to act surprised.”
Not fifteen minutes later, Jillian’s uncle came to call with a package under his arm. Jillian’s eyes lit up. “A present for me?”
“I have no idea,” Sir William replied. “It arrived yesterday from America, but there is no return address.”
“From America? How very strange,” she said.
“Why don’t you open it, Jillian? Sir William, would you fancy a game of billiards?” Logan asked.
“Certainly, my boy, but don’t you ever get tired of losing?”
The two men headed off into the game room while Jillian brought her package into the library. Underneath the paper wrapping was a cardboard box containing her gold earbobs and jeweled hatpin. There was also a note, written in large, rounded script. Bewildered, she brought the note over to the window to read.
Dear Miss Roring,
This here is Betsy and I am writing from my new home in America. I started my life over here. I’m married now, to a decent man who does not drink or hit me. He has a wonderful little boy I love like he was my own. I also learned how to read and write and act like a lady.
I have to unburden myself by begging your forgiveness. What George, Sam and I did was wrong, but I can’t take it back. I am returning your earbobs and hatpin, hoping you will understand how sorry I am.
Yours ever,
Betsy
The gold earbobs sparkled in the light streaming through the window. Jillian examined the hatpin, remembering how it had made such an effective weapon when she had needed it. Now she would be able to pass it on to her own daughter, with an amusing story.
She left the wrappings where they were and hastened into the game room with Betsy’s letter and recovered treasures.
“Look! Betsy returned these things to me, after all this time.”
She interrupted Logan as he was trying to sink a shot. The cue hit the ball off center and the shot went awry. Jillian winced. “Sorry. That was my fault.”
“Don’t give him an excuse,” Sir William said.
“I’m glad you got your things back,” Logan said. “I know that hatpin had sentimental value.”
“Yes, but it also means Betsy has decided to be a good person. I’m glad to know people can change.”
As Sir William bent over the pool table, Logan took Jillian in his arms.
“I’m glad to know some things will never change.”
They exchanged a long, romantic kiss.
About the Author
In her former lives, S.G. Rogers was a lawyer and an actress, but she’s now grown up and settled down as an author. She’s lived in some of the most beautiful places in America, including La Jolla, California, Asheville, North Carolina, and currently Savannah, Georgia. She resides with her son, husband, and two hairless cats. When she’s not writing, she enjoys practicing martial arts.
Blog: http://childofyden.wordpress.com
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Other titles by S.G. Rogers:
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The Last Great Wizard of Yden
Children of Yden
Minna & The Valentine
Clash of Wills
The Magical Misperception of Meridian
Cypher
Tournament of Chance
The Druid/The Accidental Immortal (Asgard Adventure series)
