by Teri Barnett
Lucy hung back, staring at the ship with a growing uncertainty. “What’s the matter, Lucy?” Valerie called to her.
The older woman frowned. “Never left the land afore. Not sure I wants to now.” She sniffed.
“Don’t be a goose, Lucy. This ship is perfectly safe.” Valerie flexed her knees, pretending to bounce up and down. “See? I haven’t fallen through.”
Lucy carefully placed the carpet bags she was carrying onto the deck. She crossed herself, took a deep breath, and stepped over the low railing. The steward took her hand.
“I’m very happy to have you aboard, Miss.”
Lucy’s eyes widened then she giggled in reply.
Valerie bit back a smile. She could hardly believe it, nor would she have if she hadn’t heard it herself. She watched in quiet amusement as Johnny charmed the usually dour housekeeper.
“It’s not often we get such lovely ladies of your maturity and bearing on board. I look forward to conversing with you throughout the voyage.” He bowed low.
Lucy placed a gloved hand on her chest. “Why, Mr. Johnny, ye do go on, don’t ye?”
The captain stepped forward, carefully elbowing Johnny out of the way. “I hope all of you will join me for dinner at my table tonight.”
Frederick shook Marcus’ hand. “Thank you, Captain. We’d be honored. You haven’t seen Sir David Smythe yet, have you? We’re to be traveling with him.”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, he and his son are on the other side of the deck, seeing to some last-minute details.” Marcus pointed to his right.
“Jacqueline my dear, if you and the children will excuse me, I must discuss a few matters with Smythe. I’ll join you all later.” He turned to the steward. “I’d like you to go ahead and take my family to their quarters.”
With a smart bow, Johnny scooped up Lucy’s baggage. “Be careful with it,” she wagged a finger in his face. “The lady’s beauty cream is packed tight in there along with a few other things I shan’t be discussin’ in mixed company.”
“Ah, but I can see you won’t be needing any beauty cream yourself.” Johnny winked, then motioned with a nod. “Please follow me. We’ll go down the booby hatch to the suites.”
“Booby hatch?” Reggie giggled.
“Yes-sir-ree. That’s what we call that hole in the deck. It’s where the stairs leading to the lower levels are. Stick by me, boy, and I’ll have you talking like a real sailor in no time.”
“You will? May I, Mama?”
Jacqueline eyed the hatch carefully. “Um, well, I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm.”
Reggie jumped and hurried to the hatch, scrambling down the heavy teak steps. Jacqueline went next, followed by Lucy. Valerie stood poised at the opening, not certain what to do next. She sighed. She was thankful her family didn’t treat her as an invalid, but at times like this, they always seemed to forget that she might need a hand. True, she had to maneuver up and down stairs every day at home, but they weren’t nearly as steep as these were.
“Mama? Lucy? I could use some assistance,” she called, but they had already walked on ahead.
Hesitantly, she placed her right foot on the first step. Next, she lowered the cane, pulling her left foot down behind it. Valerie smiled, victorious. She tried it again, only this time, she lost her footing and started to stumble. Her mouth opened in a scream just as a strong hand caught her arm.
“Careful, Miss. You could have broken your neck.”
Valerie turned around and looked up. A man stood above her, but she couldn’t make out his face. The sun shone brightly behind him, creating a golden halo around his head.
A god. That’s what he is. A great Roman god.
“Can I help you to your quarters?” the god asked, his hand still on her arm.
Valerie quickly composed herself. “Uh, no. No, of course not. We haven’t been properly introduced.” She glanced down. “But I do appreciate your help.”
The stairs were wide enough that he was able to move past her down to the next step. She was able to see his features more clearly. A strong, square chin, deep, blue eyes, dark-blond hair. Why, he looked just like she’d imagined Damon, the hero in Carolyn’s Dream, her romantic novel!
“Would it make a difference if I said your father sent me over here to help you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m Thomas Smythe, Sir David Smythe’s son. I was talking with Sir Frederick when he saw your distress. He asked that I lend you a hand.”
“I–I see. I suppose it would be acceptable for you to help me then.” She let him guide her down another step. “I’m Valerie Brooks,” she whispered.
Thomas smiled, and his teeth shone white against his tanned skin. Valerie took a deep breath and her heart skipped a beat. “How did you ever hurt your ankle?” he asked politely as he continued to help her down the stairs.
Hurt my ankle? she repeated the words in her mind. For heaven’s sake, he didn’t know about her foot. A whole new world of possibilities opened before her. “It, uh, it was a riding accident,” she lied. “My horse, Rexford, threw me.”
“Your horse threw you? Well, then, I’d say you were lucky to only have injured your foot.”
“Very lucky,” Valerie answered with a nod. “Rexford is too wild for his own good.”
“There, now. You’ve made it down the stairs.” Thomas gave her arm a little squeeze before releasing her, sending a shiver through Valerie at the intimate gesture.
“Valerie! Where have you been?” Reggie ran toward her, screaming as usual.
“Go away, you little lizard,” she muttered under her breath.
“And who might this young man be?” Thomas asked.
Reggie grinned, drawing himself up. “I am Reginald James Brooks, at your service, Sir.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Thomas shook Reggie’s hand.
“Mama said it’s time for you to unpack, Val.”
“I’ll be along soon,” she replied with a smile, her eyes imploring Reggie to scamper off. A deep chuckle came from the Roman god. Her eyes met Thomas’s—a warm gleam was reflected in his gaze.
“Mama said you have to come now!” He stomped his foot. “I’m not going to go back there without you. I’ll get into trouble for sure if I don’t have you with me.”
“Sounds to me as if you should be going now, Miss Brooks. Will I see you at dinner?”
“Perhaps. We’ll be seated at the Captain’s table. Do you know where you will be?”
Thomas smiled again. “At the captain’s table as well.”
Valerie blushed. Of course, he’d be at the captain’s table. After all, his family owned the ship. “I’m sorry. I should have known.”
“Nonsense. I wouldn’t expect someone as lovely as you to litter your brain with trivial matters.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it lightly. “Until we meet again.”
Reggie tugged on Valerie’s skirt and she reluctantly pulled her fingers out of Thomas’s strong lean ones. She turned and let her brother lead her to their suite, taking each step carefully for fear Thomas would realize his mistake. She gripped the cane tightly, her hand still tingling where he had pressed his lips against her fingers.
Valerie fought the urge to turn around and look at him one more time. She knew with certainty that she could lose herself in those deep blue eyes. What was it the gypsy had said? A love that would break her heart? Well, as far as she was concerned, that prophecy would not come true. She absolutely wouldn’t allow any heartbreak on this voyage.
Chapter 5
Making her way to the trunk in her cabin, Valerie unlatched the lock and heaved back the heavy lid. There, wrapped in delicate, white tissue paper, were the new ready-made creations. “Which dress do you think I should wear tonight? Mr. Smythe—did I tell you he’s Sir David’s son?—will be din
ing at the captain’s table as well.” Valerie had already told her mother about her fortuitous encounter with young Mr. Smythe.
“Ah, the plot thickens,” Jacqueline commented. “No, darling, you failed to mention he’s the son of our host.”
Valerie held up the dark red satin dress against her and studied her reflection in the mirror. Wrinkling her nose, she hung the dress on a wooden hook and pulled out the green one. “What do you think, Mama?”
Jacqueline’s eyes met Valerie’s in the mirror. “What I think is that my daughter has grown into a lovely young woman.”
“Oh, Mama—” Valerie smiled, grateful for her mother’s love.
Jacqueline smoothed Valerie’s long, chestnut locks. “And I told you there would be a nice young man out there for you. You only had to give it some time.”
Valerie’s smile faded and she lowered the dress.
“What’s the matter?” Jacqueline asked.
Valerie turned to face her mother. “Well, there’s something I need to ask of you. You and Papa. Can we sit on the bed?” Jacqueline attempted to loop her arm through Valerie’s but with a shake of her head, Valerie limped to the bed, a task belabored by the sway of the ship as it made its way out of the Thames and into the Sargasso Sea. The ship’s horn bellowed, and the cabin vibrated with the sound.
Jacqueline sat beside Valerie, a question in her eyes.
Valerie plucked at the coverlet as she chose her words. “You see, I have a bit of a dilemma. Mr. Smythe doesn’t know about my foot. At least not entirely. I told him I sprained it, falling off a horse. A horse named Rexford, to be exact.” Valerie lowered her eyes—guilt began to churn in her belly. The horn blew again, as if mocking her. She’d never really lied before, except to Reggie and usually in jest. But, of course, he didn’t count.
“Listen to me, Valerie—”
Valerie raised a hand, interrupting her mother. “I know, Mama. I shouldn’t have done it, but it was his idea. What I mean is, he assumed it was just a temporary injury. The thought that I was—permanently different—never entered his mind.”
Cripple. The word is cripple.
Strange how one word could carry so much hurt. When the accident first happened, friends came to visit and check on her, bringing small gifts. But as she got older, and it was apparent she’d never walk properly again, they stopped coming.
It was lonely.
She learned to show strength on the outside, but on the inside, her heart broke a little each time a friend said, “She’d be a beautiful girl if not for that horrible limp.” And it would hurt even more when a mean stranger said, “Get off the street, you. You’re shameful to watch.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. I wanted him to think I was like every other young woman my age.”
“You shouldn’t have lied, Val. If he is as special as you believe him to be, he’ll accept you as you are. I wish you would believe me.”
“Mama, I know you feel that way, but you need to understand that I see a different story in every young man’s eyes I meet.”
Valerie stood and smoothed her dress. She walked toward the mirror again, carrying her green dress over her right arm. Lifting the hem of her skirt, she stuck her left foot out. As long as she kept her shoes on, no one could really tell what was wrong. They couldn’t see the misshapen toes or her twisted heel.
Jacqueline wrapped her arms around Valerie and held her tight for a moment.
“Please, Mama,” Valerie whispered against her mother’s shoulder. “You have to promise me you won’t say anything,”
“I won’t lie for you, Val,” she said quietly. “If he asks me, I’ll tell him, and so will your father.” She leaned back and tilted Valerie’s chin up. “But, if the subject isn’t broached, then there will be nothing to say, will there?”
Valerie beamed at her mother. “And you’ll tell Lucy to mind her own business?”
“Lucy? Mind her own business?” Jacqueline chuckled. “And where did you get the notion Lucy would ever mind her own business where you—or any of us for that matter—are concerned?”
Valerie sighed. “I see your point. Well, I’ll just have to make certain the two of them are never alone together.”
“You know you’ll have to tell Mr. Smythe yourself sometime, don’t you, Val?” Jacqueline asked, tucking an errant lock behind her ear.
“I know. And I will, when the time is right.” Valerie took a deep breath and let it out slowly as the events of the day caught up with her.
Why is life so complicated?
As though her mother had heard her thought, she tightened her arms around Valerie. Mama was warm and soft and smelled of lavender, like all mothers should. And she wouldn’t tell if she wasn’t asked. It might buy her a little time at least.
Chapter 6
Lucy darted back and forth between the adjoining door to her cabin and Valerie’s. “The curlin’ iron’s heatin’ up in the coal bucket in the hallway. Can ye imagine they have a man who’s tendin’ it fer ye? Somethin’ to do with not wantin’ anyone to burn the ship down.” Lucy shook her head. “Such luxuries! It’ll be ready in just a minute, miss.”
Scooping up several thick locks of hair from Valerie’s head, Lucy twisted each section to the scalp, holding it in place with a hairpin. Hurrying back out she returned with the curling iron. Grabbing the end of each lock, she deftly wound it around the iron and held it for a moment before releasing a plump curl.
“There, now, ye’re as pretty as a spring bloom.” Lucy admired her handiwork, fussing over a loose bit here and there. The elegant upsweep was accented with a pearl comb in the back, pushing long corkscrew curls over to dangle impishly beside Valerie’s green eyes.
Valerie smiled as she looked at her reflection. “You do fine work, Lucy. It looks just like this magazine picture.” She held the illustration next to her face, so she could compare herself to it, pursing her lips into an exaggerated pout like the woman in the portrait.
Lucy peered at the magazine and tutted. “Yer far prettier than that lass. And ye don’t need to compare yerself t’others. Now it’s time to get ye in yer corset.” Lucy lifted the heavy garment from the berth.
Valerie groaned as her eyes swept over the dreaded garment. She didn’t argue, though. She had to look her best for Thomas Smythe and if it meant wearing a corset, so be it. Valerie stood and held her arms above her head. “Do what you will with that cursed thing,” she muttered, taking a deep breath and holding it.
Lucy stared at Valerie for a moment, clucking her tongue. “I told ye mind that language, didn’t I?”
Valerie didn’t answer, pretending her attention was diverted by some commotion outside the cabin’s porthole window.
Lucy shook her head and wrapped the corset around Valerie’s midsection, pulling the ties tightly in back. With a sigh of satisfaction that the laces were just as they should be, and a perfect hourglass shape was achieved, she worked the strings into several small knots, tucking the ends into the top. “There. Ye can breathe now.”
“Thank goodness.” Valerie exhaled loudly. But, as soon as she relaxed her stomach muscles, a sharp whalebone poked her in the side. “No wonder fainting couches are so fashionable these days.” She squirmed. “The corset all but guarantees a woman will faint dead away at the slightest agitation.” Valerie tugged at the top, pulling it into place around her breasts. “I suppose it’s a good thing that I’m not quite as well-endowed as other women. I fear this hideous garment would greatly decrease the chances of feeding my children should I ever be blessed with any.”
“Miss Valerie, I have heard just about everythin’ from yer mouth. I don’t know where ye’ve been learnin’ to talk so, but I won’t tell ye again to stop it.” Lucy shook her finger. “A proper lady wears her undergarments without complainin’, even if she finds them uncomfortable. As a matter of fact,
proper young ladies do everythin’ without complainin’.”
She held out the steel hooped crinoline and pulled it into place as Valerie stepped into it. “I’ll be havin’ a talk with yer mother if ye give me any more trouble about it.” She lifted the bottle green silk dress from its hook and slipped it over Valerie’s head, being careful not to damage her coif. The dress fell into place in a soft cloud. “Am I makin’ myself clear?”
“Lucy, after all the years you’ve been with this family, I never thought I’d see the day you’d threaten to run to Mama about me.” Valerie shimmied into the dress, pushing her arms into the long, fitted sleeves. “I must say I’m surprised at you.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Ye’re surprised at me?”
“That’s what I said.” Valerie presented her back to the older woman, a smile tipping her lips. Lucy couldn’t stand it when Valerie acted like she was disappointed in her.
It serves her right for making me wear this bloody corset and birdcage.
“If ye just do as ye’re told, I’ll not be needin’ to pull yer mother into this. To tell the truth, I’d rather not since she’s not feelin’ well anyway.” Lucy spoke quietly as she fastened the buttons of the dress. “So, it’ll be yer conscience that’ll be the worse off if’n I have to disturb yer mother, not mine.” She turned Valerie, looking her over with a practiced eye. “Ah yes, ye look just like yer mother did when she was yer age. And a bonnie lass she was. Yer father was right lucky to have caught her.”
Lucy reached for a rectangular antimony jewelry box tucked into a railed shelf. She removed an intricately woven gold chain with a round cabochon emerald hanging from it. An antique piece, Valerie’s father had given it to her for her sixteenth birthday. “I think this will look real fine. What do ye think?”
