The Bride Ship

He thought it would be a simple matter. After all, how many stowaways could have slipped by Mr. Debro’s watchful eye? However, what he saw over the next hour disgusted him.

He knew the story of how Asa Mercer had come by the use of the S.S. Continental, which had seen service as a troop carrier in the war. The so-called emigration agent had written home to Seattle to boast of his accomplishment. None other than former general Ulysses S. Grant had allowed Ben Holladay to purchase the ship at a bargain and refit her for duty as a passenger ship so long as he agreed to carry the Mercer party to Seattle on her first run.

Mercer and Holladay had apparently settled on a price for passage, and Mercer had provided the list that Mr. Debro had used to allow passengers to board. But it was soon apparent that Mr. Debro’s list did not match Captain Windsor’s instructions from Mr. Holladay. Someone had cheated these people, but Clay couldn’t be sure whether it was Asa Mercer or the steamship company.

Everyone claimed to have paid or been told payment was unnecessary, the fare was courtesy of the fine people of Seattle. Mercer must have confessed how he’d accepted money from a number of gentlemen to bring them wives. Clay could only hope Allegra wasn’t one of the women with a husband waiting. The fellow was doomed to disappointment, for Clay still had hopes of discouraging her from settling in the wilderness. Surely over the course of their trip he could find the words to persuade her.

But the other passengers were more discouraged. Two men and their families, disappointment chiseled on every feature, had already been escorted downstairs to identify their belongings, along with a few crying women. One, Mr. Debro reported, had barricaded herself in a stateroom, refusing to leave. Others threatened retribution.

Allegra was different. She must have left Gillian below with friends, for when it was her turn, she glided into the room alone, head high, smile pleasant. Her gaze swept the space, resting briefly on Clay. Her look pressed a weight against his chest. She passed him without comment and went straight to the captain, pulling a piece of paper from the pocket of her cloak and holding it out as if allowing him to kiss her hand.

Captain Windsor didn’t even glance at her offering as Mr. Debro came to stand beside him. “I need a ticket, Mrs. Banks, not your correspondence with Mr. Mercer.”

She was paler than the first Boston snowfall, her profile still. “If you read that correspondence, Captain, you will see that Mr. Mercer acknowledges payment for my passage. I was promised a spot for me and my daughter. I paid Mr. Mercer six hundred dollars.”

Six hundred dollars. A princely sum for most people, but a pittance for his family.

“You may have paid Mr. Mercer,” Captain Windsor replied. “However, there is no record of Mr. Mercer relaying the monies to Mr. Holladay, the owner of this fine vessel. Have you any way to pay for your passage, madam?”

She shifted on her feet, setting the black fringe on her skirts to swinging. “I gave Mr. Mercer all I had. I’ve been washing dishes to pay for our board until the ship sailed.”

Clay stiffened. How was that possible? Frank must have provided for her. Clay hadn’t been surprised to hear that his younger brother had stepped in as soon as Clay had stepped out. Frank had been in love with Allegra for years. Besides, the marriage settlement had been considerable. He’d seen the papers, even if he’d left before signing them.

But if Allegra couldn’t pay her way, did that mean he had an opportunity to return her to Boston, after all?

“We have sufficient help in the kitchens,” Captain Windsor said across from him. “I’m afraid I have no choice but to send you back. Fetch up Ms. Madeleine O’Rourke, Mr. Debro.”

The purser frowned and glanced around Allegra toward Clay. “Mr. Howard? Will you be escorting the lady?”

Because Allegra had used her maiden name, the captain couldn’t know she was Clay’s sister-in-law. Clay rose, but she took a step closer to the captain.

“Please,” she said, voice low. “Don’t let him take me back. I’ll do anything.”

The tremor in her voice shook him. Had Frank’s death made Boston so impossible for her, being reminded of him everywhere she looked? He couldn’t conceive that his mealymouthed cousin Gerald had caused such heartache. The Allegra Banks he remembered would have silenced Gerald with a look.

Whatever its source, her pain propelled him to her side, forcing her gaze to meet his. For a moment, he saw fear looking back at him.

Father, what happened to her?

As if she was determined not to allow him to help, she took a breath, collected herself and became the sophisticated Allegra Banks he remembered.

“I don’t require your escort, Mr. Howard,” she said. “I know my way downstairs.”

“I’m not offering to escort you,” Clay said. “I’m offering to pay your way.” He was taking the biggest risk of his life, disappointing his family once again. Forgive me, Father, if I’ve mistaken Your direction, but I cannot help thinking this is the right thing to do.

As she stared at him, Clay turned to the captain, pulled out his pouch and counted off the last of his certificates. He’d have little to live on the rest of the trip, but if that meant a chance to help Allegra and Gillian, he could make do.

The captain glanced between the two of them. “Under the circumstances, Mrs. Howard,” he said, “I should ask you if you are willing to accept this man’s money for your fare.”

She had to know what accepting such a gift might mean, that she was somehow under Clay’s protection. Once more he could see the calculations behind her blue eyes.

“Have you pen and paper, sir?” she asked the captain. “I would have you draw up a contract between me and Mr. Howard.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Clay started, but she whirled to face him, eyes blazing.

“It is entirely necessary,” she scolded him. “I will not accept money from you without a contract. And I will pay you back every cent, even if I have to work the rest of my life to do so.”

He wanted to argue. Why couldn’t he do her this service? After all, the good citizens of Boston thought he’d been the one to abandon her, when he and Allegra had been promised for ages. But she knew the truth. She’d been the one to send him away.

He nodded. “Very well, Mrs. Howard. Let’s not trouble the good captain now. I’m sure there’s pen and paper belowdecks.”

She drew a deep breath, turned to the captain and inclined her head. “I accept Mr. Howard’s offer, then. If there is nothing else, gentlemen? I’d like to settle my daughter before we sail.”

Captain Windsor handed the certificates to the purser. “You’re free to go, Mrs. Howard. Mr. Debro will give you your stateroom number. I hope the trip is to your liking.”

She inclined her head again. “Come along, then, Mr. Howard. Let’s settle this between us.” She made her way from the room, head still high, steps measured, never doubting he’d be right on her heels, like a trained spaniel.

She thought a simple contract would settle things between them. He was certain it would never be that simple. He caught her arm before she could start down the stairs. “I don’t want your money, Allegra.”

Her chin was so high he thought her neck must hurt from the strain. “And I don’t want your help, Mr. Howard. But it appears that neither of us is going to get our wish.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll give you ten dollars a month once I’m employed in Seattle.”

She was a hopeless optimist. He couldn’t imagine what work she’d be qualified to do in Seattle, and she’d be lucky to make that much a month regardless of the job she took. Wasn’t this further proof that the wilderness was no place for her?

“It will take years for you to pay me off,” he pointed out. “I’ll give you better terms.” He lowered his head to meet her gaze. “You don’t want me around. That’s clear enough. But if you allow me to become acquainted with my niece, I’ll call us square.”

She sucked in a breath. “Spending time with Gillian? That’s it?”

Clay straightened. “That’s it. Though it goes without saying that I expect the two of us to try to be civil to each other for the three and a half months it will take to reach Seattle.”

She raised her brows. “Three and a half months being civil to you, Mr. Howard? You ask too much.” She pulled away from him and clattered down the stairs.

* * *

The nerve of the man! Allie stomped down the stairs, fury rising with each footfall. Clay Howard didn’t fool her for a second. All that talk about acquainting himself with his niece only to claim he wanted Allie to be “civil.” Her days in Boston society had taught her that when a gentleman paid so much money to support a lady, he generally expected a great deal more than civility—fawning gratitude, to say the least.

She did not intend to be civil about it.

Nor was she inclined to grant him any favors. She would find a way to pay him back. She might not be an excellent cook like Maddie or a trained nurse like Catherine, but she could sew a fine hand. All those years of embroidering pillowcases and tatting lace had to count for something. Mr. Mercer had assured her she could support Gillian by sewing for other families. She’d merely add Clay’s money to her list of expenses.

She felt him behind her on the stairs, but she refused to turn and look. Too bad she couldn’t simply pretend he wasn’t there. Her mother and his would have had no trouble doing so. Anyone in Boston society trembled to receive a cut direct from Mrs. Banks or Mrs. Howard. To her shame, Allie had used the gambit more than once on the men who had courted her, looking through them as if they weren’t there, refusing to hear their pleas for forgiveness for whatever they thought had annoyed her. She wasn’t going to treat anyone that way now.

But she could not help remembering the last time she’d seen Clay. She’d known she’d marry Clayton Howard since she was seven and overheard her mother talking with his. Clay had been thirteen then, an impossibly heroic figure in her eyes, and she’d spent much of the next ten years following him around with Frank beside her.

While her parents and the Howards complained that Clay was too wild, too undisciplined, Allie and Frank had looked up to him, tried to ape everything he did. She had a scar on her knee from where she’d been thrown trying to ride as well as he did. Frank had spent a week trying to master the way Clay tipped his top hat with such a flourish. Clay had just smiled at their antics and gone about his business. She’d never understood why his parents hadn’t appreciated him as much as his younger brother.

But when Allie turned seventeen, things changed. Boys who couldn’t be bothered to notice her suddenly vied for her attention. She was the belle of Boston, her parlor stuffed with suitors. Instead of her following Clay around, hoping to catch his eye, he was the one who had to compete for a moment with her. Her popularity had been exhilarating, and she’d let it go to her head.

Then came the night he’d confessed his dreams to her. Her mother had been hosting a ball, the house crowded with the very best of Boston society. Clay had looked so handsome, so commanding, in a tailored coat of midnight black that was the perfect complement to her pearly-white ball gown. The string quartet had been playing a lilting waltz, and she’d hoped Clay would take her in his arms and whirl her about the floor. Instead, he’d led her out onto the back veranda overlooking the gardens scented by her mother’s prized roses.