When she set the bowl down, he gave her a lingering peck, lightly licking her upper lip. “Delicious,” he murmured tasting the salty brine on her lip.
20
Once they were out strolling around the deck, Miles convinced Andrea to come with him to the main saloon to see if there were any festivities happening. The room was large and opulently appointed with several sitting areas, a grand piano in the far corner and tables for playing cards. Most people, however, chose to stand so they could circulate.
Andrea hesitated upon seeing the large crowd. “I-I don’t want to go in.”
“How am I going to know whom to invite to dine with us, if you don’t point out a few men you’d like to meet?” Miles said, turning to face her.
“Are people talking about what happened with Clyde Scully?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’m sure some people have seen your door. But I think it’s important that you show everyone you’re all right.”
Andrea’s posture became rigid. “I’m sorry. I had not thought about the impact this could have on your business.”
Miles’s brow lowered. “This has nothing to do with business. Frankly, on the rare occasions when we have had these incidents on our ships, it was nearly always a drunken passenger, not a crewman. I only meant people are bound to worry that you were injured, and will be relieved to see that you were mostly unhurt.”
Andrea drew her bottom lip between her teeth, then released it knowing her mother would correct the action had she witnessed it.
“I-I’m nervous about what people are going to say. Do you think they’ll feel it was my fault?” she asked.
Miles gazed compassionately into her wide eyes, wishing the right words would come to his mind to waylay her fears. He wished he could say no one would think such a thing, but in truth, some people, when they learned she was unescorted, might say unkind things.
“I don’t know, Andi. But I’m going to be by your side and if you want to leave, just give my arm a firm squeeze, and I’ll make our excuses. Take a deep breath.”
He gently gripped the hand she had wrapped around his arm and he noticed how closely she was drawn up to his side. For a moment, he thought about returning her to her room. He knew, unless things did not go well, after it was over, she would be glad to have her first public ventures out of the way. The fear of the unknown was probably worse than anything she would actually face.
“Look,” he said. “There’s Levi. Shall we go say hello?”
Since he had not bothered finding her a chaperone yet, Miles would have normally avoided Captain Bloodworthy. But because she had already spoken with him once after the incident, he assumed she would feel less awkward conversing with him than anyone else in the room.
“Levi!” Miles called in a friendly tone.
“Miles, Miss James,” Levi Bloodworthy greeted warmly. “And how’s our little stowaway tonight?”
“I’d hardly call Andrea a stowaway. She paid for her passage after all.”
“Quite right, I beg your pardon, Miss James.”
“No apology necessary, Captain,” Andrea said politely, wondering if she should beg his forgiveness for the trouble she had caused.
The captain cast a glance over their shoulders looking for a chaperone. “And the chaperone?” he asked suspiciously.
“Turns out, the woman tippled,” Miles lied smoothly. “I shall search again tomorrow.”
“Indeed.” The captain’s tone was dry. “Is that true, Miss James?”
“Sir, considering who my father is, I would never contradict the owner of any vessel I was aboard.”
They were saved from further questioning by the purser who was standing on a chair addressing the group.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to play another little getting acquainted game. If I can have all of the men line up on the port side of the saloon and all of the ladies on the starboard.”
“If you’ll excuse us,” Miles said to Captain Bloodworthy. As he led Andrea away, he leaned closer and spoke in her ear. “I’m not an enthusiast of these games, but I’m also not fond of getting lectured.”
“The object of the game,” the purser said, handing out papers and pencils to each person, “is to match your answer with one person from the other side of the room and no one else. Whomever you match has to walk around the deck with you. Since we have fewer women than men, each woman will reveal her answer and if only one man has the same answer, then they are paired off.”
Andrea cast a wide-eyed stare at Miles. He could tell she did not want to walk around the deck with anyone.
“The first category is color. Write your favorite color on the paper—shades do not count. Just put green not jade or emerald.”
The first round was a bust. There were too few choices and too many people. The only ones who had no matches were Miles for writing brown and Andrea for her choice of white.
Three couples paired off in the next round, but no one matched Miles with his favorite vegetable, pumpkin or Andrea’s, rhubarb.
The purser crossed the room to Andrea. “Rhubarb?”
“It’s a vegetable,” she protested shyly.
“Why rhubarb?”
“I have and affinity for sweets. There aren’t many vegetables you can make into a pie,” she answered quietly, her cheeks red with embarrassment at being the center of attention.
The room laughed at her explanation, making her even more self-conscious. Her eyes met Miles’s and seeing his reassuring smile and nod, she felt herself begin to relax.
One by one, the women were paired off with companions until Andrea was the sole woman across the room from eleven men including Miles.
The purser thought he had a category that was sure to match her.
“Favorite dessert.”
Three men wrote rhubarb pie, others wrote apple pie or Italian ice. Miles wrote bread pudding. Andrea wrote peaches in cream.
The purser stepped up to her and asked in a gentle voice, “May I ask your name?”
“Andrea James.”
The man sighed and said to her in a theatrical whisper, “Miss James, you may have to fib in order to match one of the men.”
“I thought the point of the game was to be paired with someone with whom I have something in common. If I lied….”
Two of the men groaned making her aware that the men were bored with the game. A few of the early-paired couples were beginning to filter back into the saloon.
“Have we done favorite fruit yet?” the young man asked. “No, I don’t believe we have. Everyone write down your favorite fruit.”
Miles met Andrea’s gaze before she began writing.
“All right. Let’s start with the gentlemen first.”
“Apple.”
“Peach.”
“Raisin.”
“Pear.”
“Peach,” the fifth man said, giving the second man a dirty look.
“Cherry.”
“Lemon,” the seventh man said making many of the others laugh.
“Watermelon.”
“Pineapple.”
“Banana.”
Then they came to Miles who grinned at her widely. “Olive!” he exclaimed.
Andrea started to get excited, but quickly looked down at her paper. She had written olive originally, but changed it to apple when she thought about the story Miles told her about stealing apple pies.
The purser peered over his glasses as he read the paper in her hand. “You’re not going to believe this. Miss James wrote down olive and changed it to apple.”
The purser looked at Miles. “Mr. Huntington, how does it feel to have the most beautiful woman, still in the game, slip through your fingers like that?”
As he watched the winner walk up to Andrea, Miles resisted the urge to completely dismiss the results and find some other way to compensate the winner.
“Are you sure it’s legal to change your answer?”
Some of the men laughed, but
most were already leaving to pursue other entertainments.
She cast a shy smile at Miles before turning her attention to the man whom she had matched. The man crossed the room in long strides. He was only a couple of inches taller than Andrea, but quite well turned out in a finely tailored red wool frock coat. He wore his brown hair trimmed and appeared to have recently decided to grow mutton chop sideburns.
The man made a shallow bow and introduced himself as Sir Judah Paulson. He immediately held out his arm to her. “Shall we?”
Andrea nodded and placed her hand on his forearm. As he led her out the door, she spared a final glance at Miles. He nodded and smiled politely.
“You said your name is Andrea James?” he asked. “Your name seems very familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”
Andrea suspected he knew exactly who she was, but she supposed he was trying to find out if she wanted to admit it.
“My name has been in the papers recently.”
“Oh, the young lady with the big reward.”
She dipped her head in a shallow nod. “But I’m afraid you are too late if you should wish to collect the reward. Mr. Huntington has already sent word to my father where I am.”
“I shudder to think your opinion of me is already so low. The only reward I seek is this stroll around the deck in your company.”
Andrea pulled her shoulders back, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, Sir Judah.”
The man smiled rakishly at her. “I merely jested. That is, unless you wish to pay a boon for the offense, in which case, you have torn my heart asunder.”
Andrea removed her hand from his arm. “I fear I am unable to pay a boon on a heart torn asunder, for surely such a grave offense requires a truly high price.”
“Indeed,” he said, still grinning at her.
Andrea continued walking, but did not return her hand to his arm.
“I have not seen you out much—in fact, I believe this evening was the first time I saw you in the main saloon.”
“I have spent most of my time in my cabin.”
“Then perhaps I should fill you in on the scuttlebutt. It is said that one of the sailors was flogged in the middle of the night.”
Andrea swallowed convulsively, her spine stiffening automatically. “I am already aware.”
“Everyone is speculating at his offense. I suspect he was caught looting a cabin, but no one can confirm it was his or her cabin. Some say he argued with a passenger, or fought with another sailor in front of the passengers. While others have said there was a broken door on one of the passenger cabins with two burly sailors now guarding that door.”
“I’m sure whatever happened, that man will think twice before trying it again.”
“I know for certain he shall never try it again. The wretched soul has succumbed to his injuries.”
Andrea gasped, stopping dead in her tracks. “H-how do you know that?”
“I was playing cards with an acquaintance and lost track of time. When I realized I was missing dinner, I hurried to the dining room, only to see the seamen having a service for him on deck whilst the passengers were all feasting on their meals.”
Andrea felt the blood drain from her face and reached her hand to the railing as her head began to swim. “I-I don’t feel well. Excuse me,” she murmured as she bolted away from him.
“Miss James, wait. I will walk you to your cabin.”
But she didn’t stop to wait for him. She blindly made her way up the companionway until she was at the top tier where she could access the corridor to her stateroom.
Judah Paulson watched her back for about five seconds before he decided propriety dictated he should walk her to her room. Although he managed to eat up some of the ground between them, he wasn’t able to catch up completely. He stepped into the corridor just as she disappeared into a doorway, flanked by two large sailors. As soon as the men saw him, they moved to block the door completely.
“I’m sorry, sir, this corridor is restricted. Only those with staterooms on this deck are allowed here.”
“I just wanted to make sure she’s all right.”
“She’s under the owner’s protection. You’ll need his approval to visit her.”
Judah noticed the mismatched wood around the doorframe and quickly understood that it had been her door, which had been broken. He nodded to the men and departed, meeting Miles on the companionway. “Tell Miss James I’m sorry,” he said in passing. “I didn’t know.”
Miles swore as he moved past him, taking the stairs two at a time. The sailors moved apart as he approached. He lightly knocked on the door.
“Andrea, it’s me.”
“Just a moment.”
Inside, Andrea wiped the tears from her face and blew her nose. When she opened the door, Miles thought her demeanor was as rigid as glass and just as fragile.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think to send word that I was retiring for the evening.” She stood in the doorway blocking him from entering.
“Andrea, I was near enough to hear what he said.”
“You were following us?”
“Chaperoning, if you would rather.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Clyde Sully?”
One of her guards glanced in her direction when she mentioned her dead attacker. Miles took her hand and gently pulled her out of her room toward his suite.
“I don’t want to talk about it in the hallway,” he said as he guided her into the room, and pulled the door closed. “I knew it would upset you.”
Miles did not release her hand until he led her to the sofa where they both took a seat.
“I’m not upset,” she lied, sitting on the edge of the couch, her spine straight as an arrow.
“Then why are you doing that thing you do when you’re upset?”
“What thing?”
“Every muscle in your body is tightened so hard you can barely move. It’s a wonder your bones don’t snap from the strain.”
“One’s posture is important.” She tried to make her voice sound light and jovial, but it was high pitched with tension.
“And your smile—it’s all…perfect when you’re unhappy.”
“Why would I smile if I’m unhappy? Are you implying I find pleasure in bad things?”
Miles sensed that Andrea was trying to start a fight to distract him.
“Andi, you don’t have to pretend with me. I don’t find you lacking because you aren’t perfect.”
Andrea looked stricken. Her lips trembled as she fought to keep her composure. “Why do you find me lacking?” She looked away from him while she schooled her expression. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Miles bit back a curse. “I don’t find you lacking in the least.” He got up from the sofa and poured them each a glass of sherry. “It will help you sleep. I know you’ve had a shock.”
“Miles, I just want you to know, if I had known everything would go pear-shaped, I would have just accepted my lot. I never meant to hurt anyone, not Clyde Sully, not Rory, not my parents.” Andrea threw back two good swallows of the sherry.
“Whoa, you don’t want to get drunk.” Miles reached for her glass, but she pulled her hand back.
“Yes, Miles, I think I do.”
“Clyde Sully was an evil man. He earned those lashes for what he did to you.”
“Which he would not have had an opportunity to do, if I had not run away.”
“Don’t you think he would have tried to hurt another young woman given the opportunity? Perhaps the blame is with me. I knew you were alone on the ship—even now, I have not found a chaperone for you. How long would it have taken me to escort you to your room before going to the engine room? Thank God, I did not stay to watch the repair. If we are casting blame, perhaps we should also give your father blame for not talking to you about the betrothal, and your mother for making you feel any match but a king would be beneath you. Furthermore, your betrothed deserves blame for not writing to y
ou to make sure you were comfortable with the match, especially when your father wrote and said neither you, nor your mother knew of it. And we can cast blame on both Captain Bloodworthy and me as we hired the villain.”
Andrea drank more of her sherry. “I don’t think marriage to anyone is beneath me—quite the opposite. I have always known I have inferior bloodlines. If not for my father’s money to buy my husband, I would have little hope of a good match.”
“Andi, when you say things like that, I want to shake some sense into you. Do you not know how special and beautiful you are?”
Andrea stared sightlessly into the nearly empty glass. “I am not beautiful. My coloring is pale and washed out. Blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin. I look like half of the girls in England. My eyes are not even a particularly bright shade of blue, but nearly colorless. I sometimes long to go out in the sun without a bonnet or a parasol just to get spots. At times, when no one else is looking, I turn my face up to the sun to feel the warmth.”
A wide grin lit up Miles’s face, imagining her feeling wicked for putting her face to the sun. “Tomorrow, we should go sit in the sun for half an hour and then count your freckles.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” Her smile was genuine as she turned to face him.
“Fine, ten minutes a day until you get one freckle.”
She looked at him wide-eyed. “Do you think that would work?”
“I think it’s worth a try if you really want one.”
Andrea blinked as a faraway expression captured her eyes. “I should love to have exactly eleven freckles, five on my nose and three on each cheek. I think that should be the perfect number to have.”
“When I used to tease Rory about his freckles, my mother used to tell me, freckles are kisses from angels.”
“You’ve never been kissed by an angel?” she asked.
“Does kissing you count?”
Her cheeks were already rosy from the wine, but he knew she was blushing. Miles chastised himself for saying what he was thinking aloud. He needed to stop bantering with her. She needed to meet other men and make a choice of her own accord. If he pressed his suit too soon and then she found out that he was Shamus, she would feel tricked. But if she could choose him of her own accord from a myriad of men, hopefully, she would feel that she had been allowed to pick her husband, not forced to marry a man selected by her father.
Miles Before I Sleep Page 16