Henry handed the ticket to Ellie with a flourish. She regarded him with furrowed brows before taking the document as though it might dirty her. “Did you really have to choose Mrs. Pommelfritz as my pseudonym?” she asked, exasperated.
“I figured anyone who heard the name would feel sorry for you and not be inclined to ask questions, thereby safeguarding your identity.”
He shuffled closer to her side, accommodating the passengers milling about and waiting to board the steam liner for Rome. Her familiar yet unidentifiable scent reached his nostrils, a welcome respite from the mingling scents of tide and sweltering bodies.
He hoped his humor would relieve some of the tension hanging between them. They had not seen each other in person since the last lecture six weeks ago. Henry arranged all of their accommodations and tickets, while Ellie developed their itinerary and planned visits to the museums of her choice. Alex and Fern’s friends, the Richardsons, would meet them shortly after their arrival in Rome. After the initial thrill of the plan wore off, he wondered if he would find himself alone at the dock.
Ellie’s audible exhale caught Henry’s attention. “Thank you for doing this,” she said in a near whisper. “I… I needed a change.” She gave him a tight smile, the slight tremor of her voice betraying the determined set of her features.
“Of course,” he said, affection tugging at his heart. “Besides, I was getting rather bored with England. Why not engage in hijinks in a foreign language?”
“You speak Italian?”
He winced. “I took several years of Latin in school. It’s the same, isn’t it?”
Ellie chortled. “Somewhat. And really, several years of Latin? You can do translations and such?”
His stomach knotted for a quick instant before he could find his response. “Well, I took the same year of Latin several times. Close enough.”
Ellie shook her head and studied her ticket. Henry shifted on his feet, hating standing still for so long. He wanted to say something more profound to the intelligent woman by his side. He hadtriedto do well in Latin, but the longer he stared at the page, the more the letters and words swirled around until they formed a mess of nothingness. No matter the hours he put into his studies, his marks never improved. Instead of blanching when his tutors chastised him for his laziness, he welcomed it, turned it into a joke. He found it far easier for him to have people believe he was choosing to act a fool than to know he had the role forced upon him.
“And we have two staterooms, correct?” Ellie’s brows furrowed, the slashes harsh on her delicate features.
“Yes, with an adjoining en suite.” Her eyes widened, and Henry smirked. “We’ll develop an elaborate system of knocking, so you never have to face the life-altering experience of seeing me in the nude.”
“Really?” Ellie drawled, appearing nonchalant even as a blush crept up her neck and across her cheeks. “Would it scar me for life?”
He puffed out his chest in false bravado. “I would ruin all other men for you.”
“I’m afraid I’ve already been ruined,” she remarked as the passengers began jostling forward.
Henry looked at her quizzically, but she had pushed ahead, remarkably adept at maneuvering through a crowd despite her short stature.
It did not take long for the pair to locate their staterooms and confirm their baggage had arrived. As the ship left port, Henry found Ellie on the top deck, staring at the retreating British Isles.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked without looking at him.
Henry put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her side against his. “No. It’s most likely a terrible idea. But it will be loads of fun.”
“Are you having fun yet?”
Ellie’s voice only partially pierced the fog surrounding Henry’s head. Pain sliced through his gut and he curled forward, retching into the basin in his lap. He had enjoyed the relative calm of the first few hours of their voyage, but as soon as they passed from the Celtic Sea into the Atlantic, the water churned from a storm passing miles to the north, tossing the liner like a toy in a pond.
“You didn’t know you were susceptible to seasickness?” Ellie asked after emptying the contents of his basin overboard.
He propped his head back against the bench on the stern, alongside several other passengers suffering from the same ailment. “I’ve never been on the open sea before,” he gasped, opening his eyes to see stars dancing in front of them.
“It won’t be too long like this,” Ellie murmured, the husk in her low voice soothing. “The captain said maybe a day more, and the tossing will most likely subside when we pass the Strait of Gibraltar.”
Henry moaned, his head dropping forward over the basin. Surely nothing remained in his stomach. “I won’t make it that long. Just toss me overboard.”
Ellie huffed. “No such luck, sir. I will not be fake-widowed when I am already a real widow. I’ve only just cast off my mourning clothes.”
He attempted a weak smile but only managed to drool a bit. “You do look lovely in colors.”
“Thank you,” she said with a smug expression. “Although now you’ve gone and vomited on my skirt.”
Wincing, Henry turned to look up at her. Despite her jest, her brows creased in concern as she watched him. “I’m sorry about that,” he managed.
