the stars. Most of them extremely sentimental and even, possibly, given the circumstances, romantic.
He ignored the absurd idea. “Except, of course, when you’ve been on a ship at sea.”
“Yes, of course.” She paused then heaved a slightly dramatic sigh. “It’s been so long I had nearly forgotten...”
He didn’t believe her but thought it best to ignore yet another example of her deception. “I simply thought you would look lovely under the stars. And I was right.”
She arched a skeptical brow and then snorted in a most unladylike manner. “Good Lord, Harry. Did you expect that to work?”
“Yes.” He grinned.
“There’s that arrogance of yours again.”
“I prefer to think of it as confidence.”
“You may think of it as you wish. You will anyway, I suspect.” She rested her hands on the railing and gazed out at the night. “Why are we really here?”
“Aside from the stars and the balmy night?”
She laughed and it caught at something deep inside him. It was not the first time. “Yes, Harry, aside from all the accoutrements of a blatantly romantic interlude, why are we here?”
“I simply wished to talk to you.” He paused. “Alone.”
“That explains it, then.”
He’d been right from the beginning. Try as he might, in the week and a half they’d been on board ship there had been no opportunity to be alone with Sidney. Her trio of guardians made certain of that. They weren’t the least bit subtle about it either. There was at least one of them by Sidney’s side or within sight every minute. It would have been most annoying except that it also served to prevent Corbin from being alone with her. Harry’s initial impression of Corbin’s untrustworthiness when it came to women was proving correct. Why, the reporter practically fawned over Sidney, showering her with compliments about her writing and her ability to tell a story at every opportunity. One did wonder what else the man was saying when he leaned in close to her and spoke low into her ear. Although the blush that washed up her face at such moments was certainly a clue as to the sorts of things Corbin whispered. Corbin was the one the ladies should keep their eyes on—not Harry. It was obvious that the man was interested in more than a mere newspaper story. Of course, the reporter was nearly as attentive to the chaperones as he was to Sidney, no doubt in an effort to earn their trust and thereby convince them to look kindly upon him.
Two could play at Corbin’s game. Certainly it had been some time but Harry used to play it quite well. When he inherited his title, he had made a concerted effort to behave more in the manner expected of a gentleman in his position. It hadn’t been especially difficult. Harry attributed that both to the demands of his new circumstances as well as age. There was nothing that emphasized a man’s passing years and the reality of mortality so much as the death of a friend. It now struck him that he had been somewhat melancholy in nature in the two years since Walter died as well. Certainly the most interesting thing he’d done since his return to England was dare Mrs. Gordon to prove her legitimacy.
She’d called him stuffy. Stuffy? Hardly. Admittedly, the Earl of Brenton might be stuffy and even perhaps—God help him—dull. But Harry Armstrong was daring and adventurous and far from dead. And hadn’t he felt a bit more like his old self since he’d started this endeavor? There was nothing Harry Armstrong couldn’t do if he set his mind to it. And earning the friendship—if not the affections—of Sidney and her band of vigilant widows was just the sort of challenge he had always relished. The ladies were pleasant enough and he had become rather fond of them with the exception of Mrs. Higginbotham, who continued to treat him with utter disdain which only made him try harder. After all, with friendship came confidences and, hopefully, the truth about the Queen of the Desert.
From that moment forward, Harry made it his business to be by Sidney’s side every possible minute. He never missed an opportunity to sit next to her at dinner. Certainly there were moments when he had to outmaneuver Corbin—as well as the captain who quite liked having the Queen of the Desert on board his ship. As it happened, the blasted man had read her silly book. But then apparently—who hadn’t?
Harry was doing all he could to follow his father’s and Ben’s advice. Really, could he be more charming? Every evening he joined Sidney and the other ladies in the saloon for whatever entertainment was scheduled and there was something scheduled every night. He had never been much for organized activities but it seemed they were an essential part of a passenger ship and could not be avoided. Amusements ranged from dancing to absurd games that struck him as little better than children’s pastimes, to musical evenings employing the questionable talents of the other passengers, to hours of enthusiastic and distinctly cutthroat card playing. Such evenings were admittedly rather fun.
Harry had always enjoyed cards and considered himself quite accomplished. On board ship, they played for pennies, and higher wagers were frowned upon even though he suspected the older ladies would have agreed to increased stakes. All three of them played with a wicked intensity that was as surprising as it was successful. The only interesting wager to be found was the daily sweepstakes wherein passengers placed a miniscule amount—because it was all in the spirit of fun, although he would dispute that—on their guess of the distance the ship had traveled the day before. They were halfway to Alexandria before Harry discovered most of the gentlemen on board had substantial, private wagers of their own as well as serious card games in the gentlemen’s lounge. One of the true satisfactions of the endless voyage was liberating Corbin from a tidy sum.
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