The Ice Captain's Daughter (18 page)

“I believe he went to the cloakroom, Miss Watkins. He may have already left.”

Sophia whirled around almost before Hawkins had finished speaking and moved as quickly as decorum would allow. Logan emerged from the cloakroom as she arrived; his cloak draped over one arm and his hat in hand.

“Logan, I need your help.”

“Miss Watkins, right now you are the last person to whom I’d wish to render assistance.”

“Upon my honor, this is a matter of urgency.”

One of his eyebrows lifted. “Forgive me for saying so, but your honor isn’t worth two shillings.”

“Oh, all right, I suppose I deserve that. But this isn’t about me, it’s about Miss Roring.”

As he peered at Sophia, Logan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

The gazebo was empty and Jillian was alone.

“Where has everyone gone? Miss Hanna? Miss Grassley? This is really no time for hide and seek.”

Silence was her response, although she thought she could hear giggles in the distance. Jillian groaned. She’d just had a practical joke played on her.
Why didn’t I heed Mr. Loach’s warning?

Before she could leave, Lord Archibald bounded into the gazebo. “What on Earth are you doing here all alone, Miss Roring?”

“I’ve been abandoned by my friends, I’m afraid. Will you take me back to the house?”

“Certainly. It’s a good thing I decided to go for a walk.” He closed the distance between them. “May I tell you how enchanting you look in the moonlight?” He reached out to caress her face but she stepped away.

“I’m sorry, Archie, but this isn’t at all proper.”

He pouted. “Don’t you like me, Miss Roring? Even a little?”

“That is beside the point.”

His straight white teeth gleamed in the light reflected from the house. “So you
do
like me.”

“Lord Archibald, I beg you to escort me to my aunt before she becomes concerned about my absence.”

Archie advanced. Jillian backed up until a wooden column cut off her escape.

“How providential,” he murmured.

He leaned in for a kiss, but she pushed him away with surprising strength. A few threads on her gown popped with the effort.

“That is enough!” she exclaimed. “I’ll find my own way back.”

Jillian tried to flee, but Archie caught her by the arm. She was about to slap him when someone stepped out of the darkness, grabbed Archie by the scruff of his neck, and hauled him off. Jillian gasped when she realized it was Logan.

“Archie, you’re a libertine and I’ve been aching to thrash you since our university days,” he said.

“How deliciously common of you,” Lord Archibald replied. “Let’s have at it.”

Logan shrugged off his cutaway jacket, tossed it aside, and then clouted Archie on the jaw with his bare knuckles. Archie staggered backward, shook his head to clear it, and then lunged at Logan. As the two men fought, Sophia darted around the combatants and dragged a stunned Jillian from the gazebo to safety.

“Should…shouldn’t we get some help?” Jillian squeaked.

“No,” Sophia replied. Her calmness seemed out of place. “Logan was a champion boxer in school and Archie has it coming to him.”

To Jillian, the fight lasted forever. In reality, it went on only for a half-minute or so. Logan took a several blows to the face and stomach, but he inflicted more punishment than he received. Archie finally sank down to his knees.

“Maybe this will teach you not to impose yourself on a lady,” Logan said.

A roundhouse punch to the face knocked Archie unconscious. Logan bent nearly double as he tried to regain his breath. Jillian and Sophia hastened into the gazebo. While Sophia checked on Archie, Jillian put a hand on Logan’s shoulder.

“Are you all right?”

Logan straightened. He appeared to have suffered a blackened eye and bleeding knuckles, but a grin lit his face. As he pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and wrapped it around his hand, he was positively cheerful.

“Archie’s teeth cut my knuckles, but it was worth it. More importantly, are
you
all right, Miss Roring?”

“Besides feeling exceptionally foolish, I am fine. How did you and Sophia come to be here?” Her eyes slid from Logan to Sophia, and she couldn’t suppress a gasp.
He brought her out here for privacy!
“Oh…of course.”

“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

T
HE
F
IRST
F
EW
D
AYS
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
wearin
g
. It’s foin—
fine
—weather we’re havin
g
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.”