The Bride Ship

“The wheelhouse is in the stern,” Mr. Debro explained, pointing as he talked. “And the officers’ quarters are in the bow. You will have no need to visit either.”

“Is that an explanation or a warning?” Maddie whispered to Allie, twinkle in her brown eyes.

“But the officers will dine with us, won’t they?” another woman asked, and Allie could see many countenances turned hopefully to the purser’s.

Mr. Debro reddened. “That is up to the captain, madam. But I believe, as he has his family with him this trip, he intends to dine in the upper salon.”

Maddie looked at Allie as if to say I told you so. She was equally amused when Mr. Debro pointed out the larger cabins in the central building on the upper deck. The beds were bigger, the upholstery finer, the space brighter from the latticed windows overlooking the sea.

“These may appear more elegant,” Allie whispered to Maddie, “but they are likely colder on a winter’s night than our room.”

Maddie nodded as if that were fair enough.

Above the rooms on the upper deck was another space railed in iron chain, a longboat lashed to each corner.

“This is the hurricane deck,” Mr. Debro told them, one hand to his head to keep his hat in place. “As you will notice, it’s most often windy here, but it is a fine place to take your constitutional in the morning.”

They climbed down the narrow stairs in time to see Clay exiting one of the upper-deck staterooms. He tugged off his hat and inclined his head to the ladies, several of whom giggled behind their hands as if they’d never seen a gentleman before. He went so far as to wink at Gillian, who turned her head to watch him as they passed. Allie kept her own head high.

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight, Mrs. Howard,” he called after her.

“Someone’s made a conquest,” one girl said with a laugh.

Allie ignored her. In fact, she did her best to discourage any conversation with Clay when they gathered for dinner that evening and he sat himself nearby. She set Gillian between them at the table, then directed her attention to Catherine and Maddie on her left. She slid the platter of salted beef to him along the table to avoid any chance their hands or gazes might meet. And she answered any questions put to her as shortly as possible.

“You’re working far too hard,” Catherine told her after dinner had ended and the three women and Gillian were clustered around one of the small tables along the wall. “Simply ignore the fellow. He seems clever enough to understand your intent.”

“Oh, to be sure,” Maddie agreed with a glance at Clay, who was leaning against the opposite wall. “And if you’re certain you’re uninterested, you won’t mind if I should cast my net in his direction.”

“Madeleine,” Catherine scolded, “if Allegra has determined the gentleman to be lacking, we would be wise to look elsewhere.”

Allie bit her lip to hold back hasty words. In truth, she’d once admired Clay, although she knew some in Boston had been shocked by his behavior—racing his horse against his friends’, spending his money on wild schemes and strange inventions. And he criticized her for following Asa Mercer!

Still, no matter her opinion, she could not fault Clay’s behavior that night. The passengers had been divided between the upper salon and the lower, and it seemed that Maddie was right, because finances and connections clearly played a part as to which person went where. Most of the people in the lower salon with her and Maddie were common folk, clothes presentable but worn, and the common language made Catherine raise a brow from time to time at the mismatched verbs and colorful adjectives. Catherine and Clay had been given spots in the upper salon, but both had come downstairs to dine.

Though Clay didn’t go out of his way to introduce himself to any of the other passengers, he always spoke politely to anyone who approached him, Allie noticed. He had helped one of the older widows to dinner when she couldn’t manage the hard wood chairs. He swapped stories in the corner with a group of older gentlemen after dinner, casting no more than a glance and a smile at a passing lady. She couldn’t tell if he had truly changed since the days she’d known him, or whether he was merely putting on a good show for the other passengers.

“Good night, Mrs. Howard, Ms. Gillian,” he said when she started for her stateroom with Gillian in hand. “Sweet dreams.”

Her cheeks warmed, but she managed a nod and kept walking.

Their first night aboard ship was bitterly cold, and she was thankful for their inside stateroom, where heat from the lower salon seeped around the door. The warmth of Gillian’s body pressed against hers on the little berth helped, as well. But even as she lay cuddled beside her daughter, Clay once more intruded on her thoughts.

Was he freezing in an outer berth where the wind whistled through the latticed windows? Was his only covering that pieced-together fur coat? How would he even be able to fold his length onto the narrow berth? She finally found sleep by assuring herself she would do her Christian duty and check on him in the morning.

Having left Maddie dressing Gillian, Allie found him on the upper deck, where many of the women were enjoying a moment in the rare January sunshine. Like her, they were bundled in coats or cloaks that reached past their hips, full skirts swinging as they walked. The Continental was out into the Atlantic, Allie knew, and steaming south. She looked for the familiar sight of the coastline and found only the rolling blue-gray waves. How amazing, when all her life she’d seen no farther than the islands dotting Boston Harbor.

Clay might also have been admiring the view. He was wearing his heavy fur coat, his hands deep in the pockets, his breath making puffs of the cool air as he spoke. Three female passengers were clustered around him, all chattering and flashing smiles, their faces turned up to his like flowers before the light. Allie stiffened, then immediately chided herself. She had no claim over Clay. If another woman thought she could tame him, Allie only wished her luck.

He looked up just then, and their gazes met. The smile that brightened his face made her stomach flutter. How silly! She wasn’t a debutante meeting the mighty Clay Howard for the first time. She squared her shoulders and marched toward him.

He met her halfway. “Good morning, Allegra,” he said with a nod of welcome. “How did you and Gillian fare your first night aboard?”

One of the older women nearby cast them a look with raised brows. She couldn’t know their past history and family connections gave him the right to use her first name.

“Tolerably well, Mr. Howard,” Allie said, making sure to use his last name. She took his arm and drew him a little farther away from the others toward the deck chairs that rested along the wall of the first-class quarters. “And you? Ms. O’Rourke wondered whether you had all you needed.”

She couldn’t confess that she’d wondered, too, but he didn’t question her. Instead, his smile deepened, showing a dimple along the right side of his mouth. “Give her my thanks, but tell her not to worry. I’m set up fairly well. I’m bunking with Mr. Conant, a reporter from the Times, and he was kind enough to offer me the lower bunk so I can stick out my feet. And Ms. Stevens and the widow Hennessy provided me with sheets and blankets when they heard I had none.”

She should be relieved that he had been so well supported. Yet some part of her was disappointed she hadn’t been the one to make sure he was comfortable.

“Well, then,” she said, removing her hand from his arm. “It seems you have no further need of us. Answer me one question, if you will, and I’ll leave you to your promenade.”

He cocked his head. The breeze pulled free a strand of red-gold hair, and she had to fight the impulse to smooth it back from his face. “And what question would that be?” he asked with a smile, as if confident of his ability to answer it.

“Why did you join us on this trip? You can’t have been planning on spending three or more months at sea.”

“No, indeed,” he said with a chuckle. “But make no mistake, Allegra. I joined the company of the Continental because of you.”

There went her stomach fluttering again. “Because of me, sir?” Her question sounded breathless, and she cleared her throat.

“You and Gillian,” he clarified. “It’s a long way with more dangers than you can know. Someone has to protect you.”

Oh, but he was impossible! “Did it never dawn on you, sir, that I might be able to protect myself?”

His shrug did nothing to stem the rise of her frustration.

She stepped back from him. “I will have you know that I’m fairly self-sufficient. Should you need our help on this trip, you can find Gillian and me in stateroom thirty-five, on the port side of the lower salon. We’d be more than glad to protect you.”

Chapter Five (#ulink_e53cd48c-0434-5407-ac03-5c00ce077d09)

Clay watched as Allegra turned and swept away. Even bundled in her wool cloak, there was something defiant in the height of her head, the set of her dainty boot against the deck. She was so very determined to do this on her own.

He couldn’t blame her. He’d felt the same way when he’d left Boston. He couldn’t wait to put distance between him and everything connected with the name of Howard—arrogance and greed and overbearing authority. What he had now, little as it might seem to her, he’d earned with the brains and brawn the good Lord had given him. He wasn’t about to change that, for anyone.

“Now, there’s a fine-looking woman.” A gentleman strolled up to Clay, the golden lion’s head on the handle of his ebony walking stick glinting in the sunlight. He offered his gloved hand. “Josiah Reynolds. I understand you’re a Howard.”

Clay didn’t accept the man’s hand. “How can I help you?”

Reynolds lowered his arm. In his gray sack coat hanging loose about his shoulders, he looked short and sturdy, and only the bristling brown mustache over his thick lips prevented him from resembling a bulldog.

“No help required but the honor of your company,” he assured Clay, pulling his coat closer against the icy breeze that puffed off the ocean. “The way I figure it, those of us who are bachelors must band together if we’re to survive this trip unshackled.”

Clay grinned at his joke. “I thought all the ladies were set on finding a husband in Seattle, not aboard ship.”

Reynolds smiled. “I hope you’re right. My home is in San Francisco. I may yet escape the noose.” He glanced at a passing lady who had prominent front teeth and shuddered.

“If you ask me,” Clay said with a shake of his head, “you could do worse than to marry one of these women. They have more gumption than half the men I know. It isn’t easy leaving everything and everyone behind.”