The Ice Captain's Daughter

by S. G. Rogers

  “Be as pleasant to the girls as you are to the young gentlemen,” whispered Aunt Letty as they were ushered to their seat. “Some of them have eligible brothers.”

  Jillian suppressed a smile, but her aunt was perfectly serious. As the farcical comedy unfolded on stage, Aunt Letty tapped on Jillian’s arm with her fan.

  “Keep a composed expression. You’re a fool if you believe all opera glasses in use tonight are trained on the actors.”

  Although she was startled, Jillian did her best to comply. At the end of the evening, however, her ribs hurt from holding in her mirth. Sophia was not among the theatre patrons, fortunately, but she caught herself scanning the crowds for a certain dark-haired gentleman. Stop it, Jillian. Mr. Logan will not magically appear everywhere you go. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but wonder if he and Sophia were at a dinner party or dance somewhere together.

  Logan walked into Sophia’s drawing room, but he did not sit. He’d barely set his hat upon a table when Sophia glided into the room and shut the door.

  “Thank you for coming so promptly,” she said.

  He folded his arms across his chest. “I cannot imagine what we have to discuss.”

  She quickly closed the distance between them.

  “Oh come now, Logan. I was so happy to see you out riding the other day. Weren’t you the least bit glad to see me again?”

  “I thought you looked quite well.”

  Sophia pouted. “You’re still angry, and I don’t blame you.” Her slender fingers traveled across his shoulder and down the length of his sleeve. “For the sake of Christian charity, can’t we put our differences behind us, and carry on as before?”

  He leaned over to pick up his hat.

  “Don’t speak to me of Christian charity, Miss Watkins. My behavior toward you shall remain civil, as always, but I shall not seek to deepen our relationship beyond that.”

  Her face clouded over. “That’s very hard-hearted of you.”

  “Be that as it may.” He bowed. “I bid you good evening.”

  When he opened the drawing room door abruptly, he discovered Mrs. Watkins listening at the door. She jumped back with a guilty start. If Logan weren’t so annoyed with Sophia, he would have laughed out loud.

  “Beg pardon, madam,” he said.

  The night air felt refreshing on Logan’s face as he walked away from the Watkinses’ townhouse. When he’d received Sophia’s note begging him to discuss a matter of critical importance earlier, he could not as a gentleman refuse to respond. Although he still found her exceedingly beautiful, to rekindle their romance was not only impossible, but also unpalatable. For him, her beauty was as attractive as poison. Sophia’s touch was unwelcome, and even the fragrance she used seemed noxious to him. I am completely over her.

  Not wishing to be alone, Logan headed to White’s. With no other engagements, he would spend the rest of his evening surrounding by masculine conversation and pursuits.

  I shall celebrate my release from Purgatory with a drink.

  “Score round one to Sir James,” Nelson said. “I understand he called upon the mysterious Miss Roring today.”

  The smoke filled room at White’s was filled with gentlemen at cards, reading newspapers, or nursing after dinner drinks. Logan, Hawkins, and Lord Yardley were engaged in a lively game of Commerce, but they glanced up when Nelson spoke.

  “Sir James, you must share what you discovered,” Lord Yardley said.

  “And give up my advantage? I think not!” Sir James replied, a smile playing on his lips.

  Laughter ensued. Mr. Loach, who’d just settled onto a sofa with a brandy, cleared his throat. “Allow me to enlighten you, Lord Yardley. I just came from Toole’s Theatre, where my wife and I met Miss Roring. She is the niece of Mrs. Leticia Marsh, and is staying with her for the Season.”

  “There goes my advantage,” Sir James muttered.

  “What was your impression of the young lady, Mr. Loach?” Hawkins asked.

  “Miss Roring offered her opinion of the play most decidedly.” Loach paused for dramatic effect. “But were I twenty years younger and unmarried, I would welcome her opinions on anything.”

  More laughter.

  “I knew her late mother, Miss Katherine Monroe, many years ago. When she began to keep company with Captain Roring, I was quite disappointed,” Loach said. “He was a handsome Norwegian devil who had all the ladies atwitter. I believe he has accumulated a vast fortune importing ice.”

  “The Ice Captain is Miss Roring’s father? How intriguing,” Hawkins said.

  Lord Yardley frowned. “He’s a merchant?”

  “That is an uncharitable characterization. Queen Victoria welcomes him to the palace whenever he sails into Regent’s Canal, and his daughter was presented at court not more than eight weeks ago,” said Loach.

  “Her Majesty has grown liberal in her old age,” Nelson said.

  Logan bristled. “If Miss Roring is fit to be presented at court, she’s good enough for any gentleman in England.”

  A long pause ensued.

  “I quite agree,” said Lord Yardley. He raised his glass. “Here’s to the Ice Princess.”

  Logan drank the toast before returning to his cards. Although he pretended to be absorbed in the game, the conversation about Miss Roring had been torture. To hear her evaluated and weighed on every level grated upon his nerves.

  Perhaps I should pay her a call…just to see how she fares.

  At five o’clock on the dot the next afternoon, Logan arrived at Mrs. Marsh’s townhouse astride Tuxano. As he roped his horse’s reins to the nearest hitching post, Hawkins rode up on his chestnut stallion. Logan gave his friend a withering glance.

  “If you’re here to pay Miss Roring a call, why don’t you ride around the block a time or two until I’ve left?”

  Hawkins dismounted. “Why don’t you?”

  “I was here first.”

  “Only by a nose. Besides, I thought you weren’t interested in courting Miss Roring.”

  “It’s a social call, not a proposal.”

  “That’s me as well. I say we pay our social call together.”

  “Fine.”

  With Hawkins hard on his heels, Logan mounted the steps to the front door. Hawkins lunged past to ring the bell.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were planning to call?” he asked as they waited for the maid to answer the door.

  “Why didn’t you?” Logan replied.

  “It must have slipped my mind.”

  Lord Yardley emerged from Mrs. Marsh’s townhouse just then, surprising Logan and Hawkins both. He gave the two gentlemen a smug smile and a bow before passing down the stairs to the sidewalk.

  “Carry on, gents.”

  Logan and Hawkins watched as His Lordship strolled down the street, walking stick in hand.

  “It appears we’ve been outfoxed,” Hawkins murmured.

  A young maid appeared in the doorway.

  “Excuse me, sirs, but the ladies of the house are not receiving any more visitors today. Mrs. Marsh and her niece are getting ready to go out for the evening. If you’d like to leave your cards, I’ll make sure my mistress knows you called.”

  With little choice, Logan and Hawkins handed over their cards and turned away disappointed.

  “Oh, well. Perhaps I’ll call on Miss Fairley,” Hawkins said as he untied his horse. “She lives not two blocks from here.”

  “I leave you to it, then,” Logan replied. “Good luck.”

  As he rode home, Logan tried to shake off his feeling of frustration. A dinner party at his cousin Caroline’s home was his destination for the evening—and he wasn’t looking forward to it. His cousin was constantly trying to pair him with eager young debutantes, to no success. He gave a long sigh. Although the event would most assuredly be tedious, at least the food would be good. Hopefully, he’d navigate his way through the party without encountering any clinging young ladies—or insulting Caroline.

  Jillian descended t
he stairs in a tightly fitted dinner gown of midnight blue lace, with an accordion-pleat underskirt that billowed out when she walked. Aunt Letty waited for her in the entryway, clad in an elegant champagne-colored Princess gown.

  “You look lovely, Jillian,” Aunt Letty said, beaming with pleasure.

  “As do you, Aunt.”

  “Thank you.” Aunt Letty waved a pair of cards in the air. “We had two gentlemen callers while we were upstairs dressing for dinner.”

  Jillian wilted when she read the names. “Oh, no! Why didn’t they come in time to save me from Lord Yardley?”

  “Now, now. His Lordship’s visit was an honor.”

  “Perhaps, but his title cannot make up for his lack of personality.”

  “He does not possess a sparkling wit, but since men almost never talk to their wives, it’s of little consequence.”

  Jillian’s eyebrows lifted. “Aunt, do you mean to tell me you seldom spoke with Uncle Joseph?”

  “We led vastly different lives, I’m afraid. My only regret is that we never had children.”

  The carriage was waiting out front to ferry Jillian and Aunt Letty the short distance to their destination. After they settled themselves onto the seat, the driver urged the horses forward.

  “So where is this dinner party, Aunt?” Jillian asked.

  “At the home of Mr. and Mrs. Bleak. Mrs. Bleak and I belong to the same garden club.”

  “Oh, I remember Mrs. Bleak. We attended a tea at her home when I was last in London, didn’t we?”

  “Your memory serves you well.”

  Jillian, suddenly pensive, leaned back against the carriage upholstery. The name Bleak reminded her of Dickens, which in turn brought up Logan’s image. The afternoon she’d spent discussing literature with him seemed a distant pleasure. Had she realized the rarity of their conversation, perhaps she would have taken care to enjoy it all the more.

  “Aunt Letty, do you suppose it’s possible to find a loving husband who wants to converse with his wife?”

  “Your mother was successful in that regard. Your father retired from the sea shortly after their marriage to spend time with her.”

  “Did he?”

  “He meant to live the life of a gentleman, but after Katherine passed he resumed command of his ship. I believe he couldn’t bear to be in England without her.”

  “That’s sad…and romantic.”

  “Captain Lars Roring never looked at another girl after meeting your mother, although many young ladies plotted and schemed to separate them. He was the toast of London.”

  “And yet Sophia told me his profession is considered ‘trade.’”

  Aunt Letty bristled. “She did, did she? He’s the captain of a ship, not the man who drives the ice cart.” She paused. “I probably shouldn’t mention this, but one of the girls who was madly in love with your father was Isabella Hunter. She went on to become Mrs. Watkins.”

  “Sophia’s mother?”

  “The very same.”

  Peels of mirth bubbled up from Jillian’s lips, until tears formed at the corners of her eyes. “Well that explains a great deal.”

  As they gathered in the drawing room before dinner, Caroline introduced Logan to her other guests. One member of the party was a Miss Kelsey, whom he assumed he was to escort in to dinner. The poor girl was horribly shy and practically fainted upon their introduction. As he turned away, he shot his cousin a reproving glance.

  “What are you thinking, Caroline?” he said underneath his breath.

  “Trust me, Mackenzie,” she murmured.

  Moments later, a pair of latecomers arrived. Logan felt his feet riveted to the carpet when he recognized Mrs. Marsh and Miss Roring. After another quick round of introductions, Caroline paired her guests for the promenade to the dining room.

  “Cousin, will you escort Miss Roring down to dinner?” Caroline asked, a twinkle in her eye.

  “Gladly.”

  As Logan and Jillian descended the stairs to the entry-level floor, he cast about for a topic of conversation.

  “This is a fortunate coincidence.”

  “I’m sorry my aunt and I were unable to receive you and Mr. Hawkins earlier,” she said.

  “And yet here we are.”

  “Indeed. I understand my aunt and your cousin belong to the same garden club.”

  “Ah, well, that explains it. I believe you’ve met Sir James and Lord Yardley. Mr. Hawkins and I belong to their same gentleman’s club.”

  “It must be a very amiable club to count the four of you amongst its members.”

  “You’re too kind.”

  The conversation with Miss Roring was innocuous enough, but Logan felt an undercurrent between them. Was it the secret he shared with her that lent an intimacy to their words, or could it be something more?

  Could I be falling in love with the girl? Impossible!

  The party at Baron Wisthorne’s magnificent home was in full swing. Although the ballroom was filled with dancers, Sophia wove her way through the crowded periphery, trying to avoid the attentions of Vicar Lewis. The earnest vicar was a respectable sort of fellow, but Sophia had no intention of becoming the wife of a clergyman. Nevertheless, her mother insisted she be courteous to him—which he’d mistaken for encouragement. As he drew closer, she ducked behind some concealing window seat drapery. Through the curtain opening, she spied the vicar walk past with a bewildered expression on his face. Unfortunately, two gentlemen paused nearby to chat and she couldn’t emerge from her hiding place without being seen. Pouting with frustration, she waited for them to leave…until their conversation became too interesting to ignore.

  “So how goes the wager involving Miss Roring?”

  “It’s too soon to tell, I’m afraid, but I’m still betting on Logan. He will melt the Ice Princess, mark my word.”

  “I don’t know…Lord Yardley and Sir James have entered the fray.”

  “But no woman can resist Logan when he’s on the prowl, title or not.”

  “No woman except for Miss Watkins.”

  The men burst into laughter and moved off. Sophia stepped out from behind the drapery, smiling with glee.

  Chapter Eight

  Breakfast of Deceit

  AS SHE EXCHANGED SMALL TALK with Logan during the dinner party, Jillian continually had to remind herself to concentrate. His very presence had set her senses in a whirl. Her worst fear was she might lose control of her tongue and start babbling nonsense. The temperature of the Julienne soup was nothing compared to the warmth of her cheeks, nor the heat at her core. Although she sipped cool water from her crystal goblet, it did little to abate her emotional upheaval. I must marshal my feelings lest I embarrass myself! Mr. Logan is all politeness, and he has given you his friendship, nothing more.

  After dinner, the ladies left the gentlemen to their port and cigars and went into the parlor. The separation from Logan was a welcome respite for Jillian, who managed to regain her composure. As Miss Kelsey pounded out a halting version of “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” on the piano, Jillian maneuvered Aunt Letty to one side.

  “Did you know Mr. Logan and Mrs. Bleak were cousins?”

  “Caroline may have mentioned it.”

  The tone of Aunt Letty’s reply seemed a tad too innocent. Jillian’s eyes narrowed.

  “Did you suggest to Mrs. Bleak the both of us should be invited here tonight?”

  “I don’t know what on Earth you’re talking about.”

  Jillian gave her a sidelong glance. “Do you not?”

  “No, but it gives you the chance to get to know one another in a more private setting,” Aunt Letty said. “Caroline told me privately she’s never seen her cousin so transfixed as he was when you arrived.”

  “I’d like to believe her, but I’m afraid he is merely being kind.”

  “Jillian, I could tell there was some feeling between you and Mr. Logan at Idunn Court. His presence in town confirms it. Give him some encouragement, dear girl. You may have found your
match.”

  A ray of hope broke through the doubts clouding Jillian’s brow, and she suddenly felt quite buoyant. Mrs. Bleak asked her to play the piano just as the men began to filter into the parlor. Logan came over to listen, a rapt expression on his face.

  “That was simply marvelous,” he said after she finished.

  “It sounds best with a full orchestra, but ’Morning Mood’ by a Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg is one of my favorite pieces. It depicts a sunrise,” Jillian said.

  “Yes, I could hear that as you played. Well done.”

  Jillian rose from the piano to allow Mrs. Bleak to be seated next. As the party grew noisier, Logan was obliged to lean in toward Jillian to be heard. His breath as he spoke tickled her cheek and ear. A delicious shiver traveled down her spine.

  “Will you walk with me a bit, Miss Roring? My cousin keeps a beautiful courtyard out back. There is a view of it from the balcony.”

  Jillian’s stomach gave a little lift. Her assent was on her lips, but her eyes flicked a glance at Aunt Letty. An almost imperceptible nod from her aunt gave her permission to accompany Logan for a stroll.

  “Mr. Logan, I believe I would enjoy some fresh air.”

  Strains of Mozart accompanied them as Logan escorted Jillian down the hall. Her subtle fragrance filled his senses; was it honeysuckle or perhaps jasmine?

  “Your cousin plays well,” Jillian said.

  “I believe it’s the only song Caroline knows. At least it’s the only one I’ve ever heard her play since we were children.” He gave Jillian a wink.

  Jillian laughed. “You’re teasing.”

  “A little.”

  As they stepped out onto the balcony, the flickering gaslight from the townhouse illuminated the small topiary and flowerbeds lining the small courtyard below.

  “Aunt Letty says gaslight makes ladies more attractive,” Jillian said.