stood firm.
‘Another one attempting to stow away,’ the Captain commented with a resigned sigh. ‘Although I’ve never seen a woman try it. I’ll send for someone to remove her.’
‘Allow her to board.’
‘I beg your pardon, Lord Glenbrook? The woman is as good as a thief.’
‘I must ask again that you call me Mr Dalton.’ Rees handed back the spyglass. ‘Escort the woman aboard.’
‘But—’
‘You will allow her to board.’
Rees groaned when the Captain presented a respectful dip of his head, then went off to do Rees’s bidding. What sort of captain showed deference to a labouring fireman? At this rate his identity would be revealed before they left port.
It was imperative that no one discover who he was. Disguised as a humble fireman he would be able to learn who in the furnace room was reliable and who might be putting his passengers at risk by negligent behaviour.
As difficult a thing it was, not being forthright about who he was, it would remain so. People had given him their fares, entrusted their safety into his care. No matter the discomfort he endured as Mr Dalton, fireman, he would deliver them safely across the Atlantic.
He remained where he was, watching while the woman boarded the ship with the Captain. He couldn’t see it from here without the glass, but he knew the smile she was bestowing on Collier would feel like one of those visions when the sun burst through clouds, casting its light in brilliant rays upon the earth.
Even if the Captain didn’t recognise it as such, it was the way Rees saw it and this was his ship. If he wanted to allow the woman passage, she would have it.
He only wondered if he would cross paths with her during the voyage.
It was better that he didn’t. Miss Bethany Mosemore waited for him in Glenbrook. Unless he could find a way out of it, she was going to become his wife. He had only recently discovered what a great mistake their union would be.
Madeline’s stomach growled rather loudly in complaint of missing both breakfast and the midday meal.
The main thing to keep in mind was that she had somehow managed to board the ship. She could only count her blessings for it.
Since that mysterious good fortune had befallen her, perhaps she would also find something to eat.
But where? This was a huge ship. She could search half the day and not find the steerage dining room.
It would shorten the process if she asked someone, but who?
Everyone seemed to be in a rush. Her fellow passengers were absorbed in the task of settling into their quarters. The ones who were not leaned over the rail, watching while the ship pulled away from the dock.
Asking a crew member for directions to the dining room was out of the question. Those busy people buzzed about, each of them occupied in getting the ship underway.
She could hardly put the state of her appetite ahead of that.
‘You will simply have to wait,’ she muttered, listening to the growling protest her stomach raised.
‘Is there something I can do to assist you, miss?’ asked a masculine voice from behind her—close behind her.
In fact, half a mile would be too close behind her. The man’s voice had a resonance to it that made her heart beat faster. She did not want her heart to beat faster.
Had she learned nothing from Bertrand Fenster?
Well, ignoring the fellow would be rude and in fact she did need help. With any luck—and she’d had a bit of it so far—the fellow did not look the way his voice indicated he would.
Perhaps when she turned about she would find an elderly, grandfatherly gentleman offering aid.
Comforted by the hope, she pivoted about.
Luck had quite clearly deserted her, leaving her to gaze into the bluest eyes she had ever seen, abandoning her to stare at a smile that quirked with laughter and—and never mind what else it quirked with. She would not have her head turned by a quirk again.
‘I imagine you are hungry,’ he stated.
How could he possibly imagine such a thing? And why was he looking at her with an air of familiarity?
‘Somewhat hungry,’ she admitted because he wore a crewman’s uniform and would be able to direct her to the closest place to obtain a meal.
‘The dining room is that way...’ He lifted his arm and pointed past her shoulder. ‘Just three doors down. If I’m not mistaken, there is scent of fresh bread to lead the way.’
Perhaps there was, but there was also the masculine scent of this man which was suddenly more appealing than bread.
But bread, yes, she was hungry. ‘Thank you, sir.’
She nodded, then turned, feeling the slight vibration of the ship under her shoes as she walked towards the dining room.
Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, she glanced over her shoulder because could a man really be that handsome?
Oh, well, yes, he could.
‘I, Madeline Claire Macooish,’ she groaned, while wrapping her arms about her belly, ‘being of sound mind—’
Or perhaps not. Had she been that she would be wed to the Earl of Fencroft and not huddled under a lifeboat tarp, dying.
‘Do bequeath all my worldly goods...’ Of which she had none since her small valise had vanished when she set it down in the steerage dining room while pretending that she had as much right to eat there as anyone else.
What she hadn’t known was that poorer-class passengers tended to bring meals with them. Not that she had a dime to purchase what leftovers they might have.
Luckily, a sweet young man, Edward, had shared his bread with her.
Oh, she had been more than grateful at the time for the food and for the company, but now twelve hours later she was certain she would not eat for the rest of her life, of which there was not much left.
Earlier today, she had thought herself lucky when the Captain of the ship told the ticket master that she be allowed to board.
In the moment she had decided it was more strange than lucky. Given that she was clearly a stowaway, it was beyond belief that he would spare her a word or a glance.
Once, when she and Clementine were young, Grandfather had taken them to Paris with him on one of his business trips. She clearly recalled dining with
