by Merry Farmer
“I can’t imagine what that’s all about,” Albert said. It surprised him that he was willing to gossip about his passengers, but Domenica made him want to confide everything he was thinking in her.
She laughed. “Can’t you?” He sent her a look that said he could imagine, and she went on with, “Money makes fools of us all, no?”
“It does,” he answered gravely. “Which is why I prefer to stay at sea.”
Domenica blinked, and they paused in a patch of sunlight near the railing. “Mi capitán, are you implying that you have money?”
The teasing way she looked at him told Albert she must have known he was well-off. “I own this ship,” he said with a shrug. “And a fleet of others designed for trade rather than passengers.”
“My, my. What a powerful man you are.”
She was goading him, he knew, but the flash in her eyes combined with the compliment made Albert feel as though he were ten feet tall. So much so that he couldn’t help adding, “Not many ships are designated as Royal Mail Ships, R.M.S.”
“No?”
“It is a special distinction that the Kestrel was given, thanks to some of my friends in high places.”
“So there’s a sack of mail on this ship somewhere?”
Albert nodded. “Transporting the mail is a great honor.”
“But I suppose you are used to great honors.” She hugged his arm again as they continued to bask in the warming sunshine. “I heard you are a great hero of the Crimean War.”
Albert laughed. “Hardly a hero. I served in the navy during the conflict. It’s where I made several of my friends too, including William’s uncle, Peter deVere. Not to mention Lord Malcolm Campbell and Lord Armand Pearson.”
“My friend Millie works for Lord Peter deVere and another friend, Noelle, said that Lord Malcolm was instrumental in saving her from a horrible man named Lord Shayles.”
Albert snorted. “Shayles—and his crony, Lord Howsden—became enemies during the war as surely as Malcolm, Peter, and the others became friends. Howsden almost got the lot of them killed. I still maintain that he did cause Stephen’s death.”
“Stephen?”
“Lord Stephen Leonard,” Albert explained, still feeling the pain of losing such a good man.
“Ah! Mrs. Elspeth Strong’s uncle.” Domenica nodded. “Theophilus Gunn’s….”
“Employer,” Albert finished. There was no sense dredging up a scandal when one man was dead and the other had built a new life. “But what about you, Miss Ortega?” He steered the conversation away from topics that were as painful as they were distant. “What great secrets do you hold in your past?”
She laughed, and it was only then that Albert realized a woman who had worked as a prostitute must have had a legion of painful secrets she didn’t want to discuss. But instead of shying away from the subject, Domenica merely shrugged. “I have no secrets, only regrets.”
They continued to walk, keeping to the sun and following the railing around the ship’s bow.
“What kind of regrets?” he asked. If he was going to lay himself bare to her, then it only seemed fair that she do the same for him. And if the promise of that kind of intimacy thrilled him on a level that he was only just discovering he had, then so be it.
Domenica shrugged. “I was supposed to be a noblewoman.”
Albert blinked. “You were?”
She glanced up at him with a wry smile. “You are surprised?”
He thought of the way she had taken charge of nearly everything that had come her way since she boarding the ship, the pride in the way she carried herself. “No, I suppose I’m not.”
She laughed and hugged his arm tighter. “My abuelo was a great man in Alta California. He was descended from Spanish royalty, or so he always claimed. He was granted a rancho by the government of Mexico, near the mission of Los Ángeles. I was raised there.”
“Then how,” he started asking, but stopped himself.
“How did I come to be working on my back at Bonnie’s Place in Haskell, Wyoming?” She picked up his question without bitterness or shame. He nodded, and Domenica shrugged. “Mexico was lost to the Americanos. My abuelo fought to hold onto his land, but it became harder and harder for him to make ends meet. We were land rich and cash poor, as they say. Poor Abuelo was forced to sell the land bit by bit. When he died, my uncle Manuel sold it even faster.” She paused, lowering her eyes. “He sold me as well, in the end. Before I knew what happened or could do anything about it.”
Rage welled up in Albert. “That is unconscionable.”
Domenica shrugged, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders. “There are many worse things that could have happened to me. The man he sold me to fed me and gave me a home and a bed, even if he did charge others for the pleasure of sharing that bed. I was good at what I did. I made men happy, and in turn, I was treated well. I was never hungry, I had pretty clothes, and never ended up with child, like most other girls did, gracias a Dios.”
Albert narrowed his eyes, studying her. To an outside observer, Domenica would have seemed casual about her forced prostitution. With her back straight and her head held high, they might have even thought she’d taken pride in her work, such as it was. But that bravado was like a veil, and he could see right through it. Sorrow rippled off her, and fear was bright in her eyes. It made him feel both responsible and powerless.
“Those days are over,” he said, letting go of her arm and sliding his around her back to hold her closer.
He was certain he felt a shudder go through her, certain she caught her breath to stifle a sob. She leaned into him, closing her eyes for a moment. Albert wondered what it would feel like to have her by his side always, to walk the deck of his ship with her in the fresh air of spring, the balmy heat of summer, the crispness of autumn. He wondered if she would give up the life that waited for her to spend the rest of her life with the sea, with him.
“Domenica,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
“Hmm?” She opened her eyes and smiled up at him.
“I—”
“Captain! Captain! You’re needed. Now.”
The call from the other side of the deck was like a splash of cold water, bringing Albert to his senses. He tensed and pivoted to find Renshaw marching toward him. It was painful to let go of Domenica, but she followed him as he marched across the deck to meet his first officer. William glanced up from fawning over Lady Patterson to follow with his eyes.
“What is it?” Albert demanded, perhaps harsher than he should have, but damn Renshaw for interrupting what could have been a crucial moment in his life.
Renshaw cast a look in William’s direction before lowering his voice to report, “Someone has been in Mr. Sands’s cabin.”
“What?” Albert snapped.
“Did they break in?” Domenica asked.
Renshaw hesitated, studying Domenica as if determining whether she could be trusted.
“Go on,” Albert said.
Rather than come right out with it, Renshaw’s expression dropped into a confused frown. “That’s the thing, sir. We checked as soon as Mr. Sands was reported missing, and determined he hadn’t been back to his cabin. When Mr. Milton came to tell me about—” He shot a look toward William, who was doing a terrible job of pretending he wasn’t desperately interested in what they were saying. “—the money Lord William lost to Mr. Sands, I decided to check his room again.”
“And it had been tampered with?” Domenica asked.
Renshaw’s confused frown returned. “Not exactly. I was hoping to find the I.O.U. in question. It wasn’t there, and neither were Mr. Sands’s heavy coat, several articles of his clothing, his shaving razor, or the photograph of his wife.”
Albert blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face, more relieved than he thought he’d be. “That settles it, then.”
“Settles what?” Domenica asked.
Albert shot a sideways glance to William, a victorious grin tugging grimly at his li
ps. “Lewis is alive and still on board the ship.”
CHAPTER 6
Domenica was certain the mystery of Mr. Sands’s disappearance would keep her up all night after Albert walked her to her room. But the exhaustion of taking over Sands’s duties in the kitchen won out over her curiosity, and only a few minutes after climbing into her bunk, she was deeply asleep.
She awoke to find that the gentle rocking of the ship had turned into stomach-wrenching pitching to and fro. Heavy rain lashed at her portholes with an occasional flash of lightning. Domenica swallowed hard and lurched out of bed. She stood for a moment with her feet planted and her arms held out, making sure she would be able to balance as the ship rolled. When she was sure she wouldn’t fall over if she tried to move, she rushed around, washing and dressing as best she could, then headed to the kitchen.
The storm lasted all day. Domenica had never seen anything like it. The kitchen staff worked as best they could, though far fewer people ventured into the dining room to eat than the day before.
“We hit at least one storm per crossing most voyages,” Bourne told her halfway through the day as he prepared a simple tray of plain bread and butter, meant to settle the stomachs of woozy passengers. “They’re never pleasant, but we’ve learned to cope.”
Domenica considered herself lucky. She only tossed up the sparse food she was able to choke down twice during the day. Others weren’t so fortunate. When she saw that there was little she could do to help in the kitchens, she went off in search of Lady Patterson, finding her huddled in her bed.
“Oh, Domenica.” Lady Patterson reached for her as soon as Polly opened the cabin door to let her in. “It’s such a relief to see a friendly face in all this—” Instead of answering, she swallowed hard, turning green.
For the first time, Domenica saw Lady Patterson as the frail old woman she was and not as the feisty woman she tried to be. She spent the next several hours, until the storm calmed, sitting on the bed and comforting Lady Patterson while Polly huddled in the corner, crying and groaning and being sick.
The storm broke shortly before nightfall. Lady Patterson fell asleep as soon as the ship stopped rocking so violently. Domenica helped a sour and reluctant Polly to clean up and change as much of the bed linens as she could with Lady Patterson asleep inside of them. She then dragged herself back to her own cabin, collapsing into bed and falling into a heavy sleep.
The net result of the storm was to exhaust most of the passengers and to give the poor crew even more work to do as the next day dawned and their clean-up efforts began. It also meant that Domenica went an entire day without seeing Albert—who had been needed on the bridge for the entire storm—and that no further investigations into Mr. Sands’s whereabouts could be made. The ship was now well out into the middle of the Atlantic, perhaps even closer to England than America, and the mystery was as thick as ever.
“Mr. Sands must be on the ship,” Domenica said, half to herself, as she strolled around the deck at the stern of the ship with Lady Patterson halfway through the afternoon. “We know that he took things from his own cabin, but where did he take them? Where is he now?”
“My dear.” Lady Patterson patted her hand, her arm looped through Domenica’s. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be worrying herself about missing crewmen, especially when the man in question isn’t even remotely handsome.”
Domenica laughed half-heartedly, trying not to be irritated by her friend’s antiquated attitude about what a woman should or shouldn’t do.
“Besides, the sun is out, the seas are calm, and by the grace of God, we’re all still alive and in relatively one piece, though I can’t vouch for Polly.”
“Why not? Aren’t you responsible for her as her employer?”
Lady Patterson snorted and waved her free hand. “I am not her employer. I would never hire a girl as flighty and foul-tempered as that one.”
Domenica frowned. “But she’s your maid.”
“Provided for me as a traveling companion by William,” Lady Patterson said.
That only deepened Domenica’s frown. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Instead, she asked, “Why do you torment yourself with Lord William?”
Lady Patterson burst into a laugh that was far more like the colorful personality Domenica thought her to be than the suffering, old woman she’d been during the storm. “He’s hardly a torment.”
“I don’t trust him.” Domenica tilted her chin up, daring the woman to disagree with her.
“Neither do I,” Lady Patterson answered with equal determination. An impish grin spread across her face. “But he is delicious to look at.” She nodded across the deck.
Domenica turned her head to find Lord William striding onto the deck from the passage that ran along the side of the ship. He glanced briefly in their direction, but quickly turned away, staring out to sea. Anyone with eyes could see he was pretending he hadn’t seen them. He was able to get away with the charade, as the deck was crowded with passengers desperate for a bit of fresh air after the turmoil of the day before. Domenica took her lead from Lady Patterson. When her friend merely shook her head and let Lord William think he hadn’t been seen, Domenica ignored him as well.
“I’m trying to see how far I can coax him,” Lady Patterson said.
“I beg your pardon?” Domenica blinked. She shifted direction so that they wouldn’t walk near Lord William, heading for the railing on the port side instead.
“He wants me to leave him my fortune, of course,” Lady Patterson went on. “I have no intention of giving him a farthing, but he doesn’t know that.”
Domenica laughed. “I knew you couldn’t be so gullible.”
Lady Patterson gave her arm a squeeze, then leaned in closer. “I’m attempting to see him naked.”
Domenica’s brow flew up. “Lady Patterson!”
Nonplussed, Lady Patterson said. “If he wants my money, let him show me the goods. I haven’t seen a fine-looking, bare-bottomed, young buck with a cock-stand in years, and I’m determined to get one more, good look before I die.”
Domenica laughed so hard that she drew the eyes of several nearby passengers. “Lady Patterson, you are incorrigible.”
“I never said I wasn’t.” Lady Patterson winked. “And who cares if the man is a despicable criminal? He has a tight derriere and fills out his breeches well.”
Something in the comment cut off Domenica’s fit of giggles. She blinked and shook her head. “Despicable criminal?”
“Yes, of course.” Lady Patterson snorted. “You hadn’t noticed?”
“Well, I suppose I have noticed. I don’t trust the man at all, but….” She bit her lip, wondering how much she should say. How much did Lady Patterson already know? “Albert and I think he must be involved in Mr. Sands’s disappearance somehow.”
“Oh, you and Albert think that, do you?” Lady Patterson’s eyes sparkled.
It was the least convenient time for the conversation to turn to a topic Domenica would have gladly gossiped about for hours. “You know that the capitán and I have grown close.”
“So close you can’t glimpse the light of day between you, I’d wager,” Lady Patterson said with a wink. Before Domenica replied, she went on with, “I’d snatch that one up, if I were you, my girl. Men like that don’t come along but once in a lifetime.”
“I—” Domenica bristled with frustration. Her rebellious heart danced like a girl’s while her head shouted at her to explore the clue that Lady Patterson had let slip about Lord William’s criminality. She pressed her lips together and blew out a breath through her nose. “I am fonder of Captain Tennant than I can say, but he is married to his ship, and I have a whole life waiting for me in London.”
“That can easily be rearranged,” Lady Patterson shrugged. “Tell your new life you have other plans.”
“I’m not sure I could,” Domenica argued. Although how difficult would it be to tell Mr. Garibaldi she wouldn’t be taking up his offer
of a job because she’d found a different arrangement? “And you’re assuming Captain Tennant would want me that way,” she added, even though the thought pinched at her heart.
Lady Patterson snorted. “I’ve lived a long time, my dear. I’ve been married twice and had a score of lovers. I know when a man wants a woman, and that man wants you.” She nodded toward the center of the ship.
Domenica followed her nod to find Albert standing on the higher, crew deck, watching them from above. Her heart leapt in her chest, then shivered and heated when he caught her eye and smiled. The prospect of staying with Albert and sailing the seas with him forever suddenly seemed not only beautiful, but possible.
“He hasn’t asked me,” she said, the only argument she had left.
“He will,” Lady Patterson said. “So be ready.”
Domenica tore her eyes away from Albert and grinned at her friend. “You are too wise, my lady.”
“I am old,” she replied. “If one accomplishes her life correctly, the two go hand in hand.”
Domenica hummed, hugging her friend’s arm. She caught a glimpse of Lord William moving out of the corner of her eye and turned to see what he was up to. He’d moved away from the railing and was marching back toward the passage along the side of the ship. A flash of movement from where the corner of the wall marked the end of the passenger cabins snagged Domenica’s attention. For the briefest second, she thought she saw Polly disappearing around the corner. Lord William was gone a moment later. The whole, split-second sight left the hair on the back of Domenica’s neck standing up.
