His gaze slipped to her mouth. He suspected her definition of fun at the moment and his were decidedly different. He cleared his throat. “Do you really think so?”
“Oh my, yes.” A definite glint of challenge shone in her eyes. “There is nothing more fun than putting an arrogant man in his place.”
“Then the game is afoot, Mrs. Gordon. And you’re right.” He leaned in, trying to ignore her scent, the long length of her lashes, the distracting nearness of her. “It will be fun. Although I have no doubt as to the ultimate winner.”
“Nor do I, Mr. Armstrong.”
His gaze meshed with hers and for a moment something one could only call awareness sparked between them. Not what he expected. Or wanted. But then Harry Armstrong had always been willing to adapt to new circumstances.
“There you are,” a female voice sounded behind him. Before he could turn, someone short and determined nudged him out of the way as efficiently as a collie cutting a sheep from the herd, and Mrs. Gordon’s band of determined elderly watchdogs surrounded her.
“Good day, Sidney,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said brightly. “And Mr. Armstrong as well. What a lovely surprise.”
“And greeting the new day with champagne.” Lady Blodgett cast an assessing eye at the bottle in his hand. “I never would have thought of such a thing but it is a charming idea.”
“And how very thoughtful of you.” The dragon plucked the bottle from his grip and smiled innocently. “Only one glass?”
“I’m afraid so,” Sidney said with a shrug.
“Then there’s nothing to be done about it.” The dragon shook her head reluctantly. “We shall simply have to adjourn to Mrs. Gordon’s stateroom and request additional glasses from the charming Mr. Gilmore.”
Mrs. Gordon bit back a grin. Why shouldn’t she smile? She had invaded his solitude—he ignored the fact that she had already been on deck when he arrived—commandeered his tradition and was now absconding with his champagne.
“Thank you, again, Mr. Armstrong,” she said pleasantly. “Do enjoy the rest of your morning.” She took the dragon’s arm and they strolled down the deck.
“We would ask you to join us, Mr. Armstrong, but Sidney’s room simply isn’t big enough for everyone. Why, the four of us can scarcely squeeze in together. Although it is an exceptionally nice room.” Lady Blodgett smiled. “Besides, it did look to me as if there was barely enough champagne left for a handful of glasses at the most and I am certain you would wish for us to have it.”
What could he say? “With my sincerest compliments.”
“I thought you would agree. This really is quite delightful. I might have to put the idea of starting the first day of any new journey with champagne at sunrise in a Lady Travelers pamphlet.” Lady Blodgett turned to go then turned back. “Oh, and as it seems to me, to all of us really, as your purpose in this trip is the complete opposite of Sidney’s, it might be wiser for all concerned if you avoided those occasions when it was just you and Mrs. Gordon alone. Besides, people being what they are, appearances are important. I’m certain you understand.”
“Are you afraid I might attempt to ply Mrs. Gordon with spirits in an effort to wring a confession from her?” he said lightly. “Or do you think my intentions might be even more dishonorable? Seduction perhaps?” At once, the image of her delightfully inviting lips came to mind.
Lady Blodgett glanced at Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore, and then leaned closer to him. “Mr. Armstrong, my husband and his friends were explorers and adventurers. I have spent the better part of my life around such men as have Poppy and Effie. Men very much like you. I assure you, we are quite good at recognizing those who are honorable gentlemen and those who are not.”
“And where do I fall in your assessment?” he said slowly.
“I haven’t decided yet.” She smiled sweetly but there was no misunderstanding the look in her eye. Regardless of whether she decided he was indeed an honorable gentleman or a despicable cad, the opportunities to be alone with Mrs. Gordon again, particularly with champagne, would be nonexistent. Were the ladies trying to keep her secrets or simply protect her? He could certainly understand the former if indeed he was right about her but the latter made no sense. A widow had no need of constant supervision and from his brief conversation with her it was apparent Mrs. Gordon—Sidney—could certainly hold her own.
“Good day, Mr. Armstrong.” Lady Blodgett started after the others. Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore nodded, and then trailed after her friend.
“Do you always travel in packs, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore?” he said mildly.
She turned back to him. “Goodness no, Mr. Armstrong. Not always.” She smiled in a friendly manner. He wasn’t sure he believed it. “Only when necessary.” The older lady’s eyes twinkled and she headed toward the others.
The game was indeed afoot. Harry thought he’d be playing with Sidney alone. Now, it appeared he was facing an entire team.
The fame of Mrs. Gordon’s Tales of a Lady Adventurer in Egypt has spread well beyond England. Even on board ship any number of passengers had read her work and confessed it was a great influence on their decisions to turn their hopes for holiday adventures toward the ancient shores of Egypt.
—“The Return of the Queen of the Desert,” Daniel Corbin, foreign correspondent
“WHY, MR. ARMSTRONG, what are you doing?” Sidney said behind the mask that had been passed out to all the passengers for masquerade night. A night that was every bit as bothersome as it sounded although it did seem to be the sort of thing first-class passengers required. It was their first dance of the evening, much to Harry’s annoyance.
“I believe we are dancing,” he said smoothly, steering her out of the saloon door and into the corridor. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder but no one seemed to note their exit. This was the first chance he’d had to be alone with her since their shared sunrise and it had taken a bit of creative manipulation on his part to manage it.
“I believe we were dancing and now you have somehow guided me out of the saloon and—”
He opened the door to the deck. “And onto the deck.”
“Dare I ask why?” She stepped out onto the deck, a note of amusement in her voice. Obviously, she was not annoyed by this clever maneuver of his.
He smiled down at her. “It’s a beautiful night, Mrs. Gordon.” He pulled off his mask with a sense of relief. He hated having the blasted thing pressed against his face. “I thought it a shame not to share it.”
“It is a lovely night, Mr. Armstrong.” She untied her mask and removed it. “But I assume we are not here simply to gaze at the stars.”
“Oh, but they are magnificent stars.”
“They are at that.” She glanced out at the darkness, the brilliant stars reflecting on an endless sea. “There are any number of ways I can think of to describe
