The Bride Ship. Regina Scott
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tame him, Allie only wished her luck.
He looked up just then, and their gazes met. The smile that brightened his face made her stomach flutter. How silly! She wasn’t a debutante meeting the mighty Clay Howard for the first time. She squared her shoulders and marched toward him.
He met her halfway. “Good morning, Allegra,” he said with a nod of welcome. “How did you and Gillian fare your first night aboard?”
One of the older women nearby cast them a look with raised brows. She couldn’t know their past history and family connections gave him the right to use her first name.
“Tolerably well, Mr. Howard,” Allie said, making sure to use his last name. She took his arm and drew him a little farther away from the others toward the deck chairs that rested along the wall of the first-class quarters. “And you? Ms. O’Rourke wondered whether you had all you needed.”
She couldn’t confess that she’d wondered, too, but he didn’t question her. Instead, his smile deepened, showing a dimple along the right side of his mouth. “Give her my thanks, but tell her not to worry. I’m set up fairly well. I’m bunking with Mr. Conant, a reporter from the Times, and he was kind enough to offer me the lower bunk so I can stick out my feet. And Ms. Stevens and the widow Hennessy provided me with sheets and blankets when they heard I had none.”
She should be relieved that he had been so well supported. Yet some part of her was disappointed she hadn’t been the one to make sure he was comfortable.
“Well, then,” she said, removing her hand from his arm. “It seems you have no further need of us. Answer me one question, if you will, and I’ll leave you to your promenade.”
He cocked his head. The breeze pulled free a strand of red-gold hair, and she had to fight the impulse to smooth it back from his face. “And what question would that be?” he asked with a smile, as if confident of his ability to answer it.
“Why did you join us on this trip? You can’t have been planning on spending three or more months at sea.”
“No, indeed,” he said with a chuckle. “But make no mistake, Allegra. I joined the company of the Continental because of you.”
There went her stomach fluttering again. “Because of me, sir?” Her question sounded breathless, and she cleared her throat.
“You and Gillian,” he clarified. “It’s a long way with more dangers than you can know. Someone has to protect you.”
Oh, but he was impossible! “Did it never dawn on you, sir, that I might be able to protect myself?”
His shrug did nothing to stem the rise of her frustration.
She stepped back from him. “I will have you know that I’m fairly self-sufficient. Should you need our help on this trip, you can find Gillian and me in stateroom thirty-five, on the port side of the lower salon. We’d be more than glad to protect you.”
Clay watched as Allegra turned and swept away. Even bundled in her wool cloak, there was something defiant in the height of her head, the set of her dainty boot against the deck. She was so very determined to do this on her own.
He couldn’t blame her. He’d felt the same way when he’d left Boston. He couldn’t wait to put distance between him and everything connected with the name of Howard—arrogance and greed and overbearing authority. What he had now, little as it might seem to her, he’d earned with the brains and brawn the good Lord had given him. He wasn’t about to change that, for anyone.
“Now, there’s a fine-looking woman.” A gentleman strolled up to Clay, the golden lion’s head on the handle of his ebony walking stick glinting in the sunlight. He offered his gloved hand. “Josiah Reynolds. I understand you’re a Howard.”
Clay didn’t accept the man’s hand. “How can I help you?”
Reynolds lowered his arm. In his gray sack coat hanging loose about his shoulders, he looked short and sturdy, and only the bristling brown mustache over his thick lips prevented him from resembling a bulldog.
“No help required but the honor of your company,” he assured Clay, pulling his coat closer against the icy breeze that puffed off the ocean. “The way I figure it, those of us who are bachelors must band together if we’re to survive this trip unshackled.”
Clay grinned at his joke. “I thought all the ladies were set on finding a husband in Seattle, not aboard ship.”
Reynolds smiled. “I hope you’re right. My home is in San Francisco. I may yet escape the noose.” He glanced at a passing lady who had prominent front teeth and shuddered.
“If you ask me,” Clay said with a shake of his head, “you could do worse than to marry one of these women. They have more gumption than half the men I know. It isn’t easy leaving everything and everyone behind.”
“True enough,” he agreed, giving his walking stick a thoughtful twirl. “But any lady who has to cross a continent to find a husband must have something wrong with her.”
Clay scowled at him, and the fellow excused himself to find other company. Clay shook his head again, this time at his own attitude. Only yesterday, he had been equally certain that only the desperate would take advantage of Mercer’s offer. But the ladies he’d met so far challenged that theory.
Allegra’s friend Ms. Stanway was as fearless as she was fetching. Ms. Stevens, who had offered him the blanket last night, was as sweet-tempered as she was sweet-faced. Any number of these women could have found beaux even in the war-ravaged East. Why take a chance on Seattle?
“And a pleasant morning to you, Mr. Howard,” Ms. O’Rourke said as she sashayed up to him. The breeze had turned her cheeks a pleasing pink, and her brown eyes sparkled as she grinned at him, arms buried in the sleeves of her rust-colored wool cloak. “Still unengaged? Such a slacker, you are.”
She must have overhead his conversation with Reynolds. Clay chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding a gentleman to propose, if that’s what you’re after.”
She leaned against the railing. “And isn’t that what every lass is after? A nice rich lad of good family who’s kind on the eyes.”
Clay’s surprise must have been showing, for she laughed and said, “What—don’t all you gents pine for something similar? A pretty girl who will cook and bake and clean for you?” She fluttered her cinnamon-colored lashes. “Some of us have better ways to spend our time.” She pushed off the railing and all but skipped down the deck.
“You’ll find Ms. O’Rourke quite outspoken,” Ms. Stanway said in her wake. She offered Clay a smile that did not seem to warm her blue eyes, which were a few shades lighter than Allegra’s. “But she is correct. Not all of us are hoping to marry when we reach Seattle.” She nodded to two of the women who were standing farther along the railing, gazes out to sea. “The Prescott sisters worked in the cotton mills in Lowell. Those were shuttered during the war and don’t look to be opening soon.”
“So they’re seeking employment,” Clay surmised. “And what about you, Ms. Stanway? Why are you going so far from home?”
That smile remained frozen on her face. “I lost my brother and father to the war, sir. There is no home to return to. Excuse me.”
She continued past, head high, carriage serene. The ocean breeze no more than ruffled the feather on her hat. He had a feeling if she had debuted in Boston they would have dubbed her the Ice Princess. But then, they wouldn’t know the story of her losses.
He’d thought he knew Allegra’s story. She’d been born into a well-respected though slightly less affluent family than his. She’d risen to the top of Boston social circles. She’d married Frank; they’d had a child together. But though she’d lost her husband in the war, she