Of course, there was that one party where she had spoken up on what the people in the city had called the "Indian problem."
What problem? She had lived with Indians for most of her life and could find no truth in what was disgustingly called the "Indian problem."
Or perhaps it was the use of certain words or concepts she used that caused the sophisticated people in the city to consider her to be little more than a poor relation. After all, cultured ladies didn't speak of the "necessary" in mixed company, nor explain in detail how to geld a horse or track a buffalo and cut up its meat for a meal.
In other words, regardless of her wealth, her dress or her titled family's fame, she had not been acceptable by any means.
Men avoided her, perhaps because of the gun. Frederic's wife, Marsha, had done her best to explain why women in New York City did not openly wear guns.
It hadn't done any good. When going out for the evening, after ensuring Marsha was nowhere about, Briella had always strapped on the gun. And, why not? Some habits, she figured, were there for self-protection and were not meant to be broken.
But then, just as she had given up hope of attracting a suitor—it being necessary so she could return home—she had met James Maximillian III, a banker who required a European title of rank in order to inherit the position of President of the Livingston Bank. Of course, he had come with a mistress he had no intention of giving up. But, this hadn't bothered Briella.
After all, she didn't intend to live with him in the big city of New York. Instead, once she returned home, she hoped to convince Red Fox—if he were still not married—to live with her without the requirement of matrimony.
Would he do it? It would be quite a sinful proposal she would make, which she was well aware would require her toconfess the deed to the nearest priest, and as soon as possible. But, perhaps Red Fox might allow it, and if he did…
However, of one matter she was quite certain: she would never return to the city of New York. Never. And, this being so, what did it matter if she married James Maximillian III? She would never see him again after the prenuptial agreement was made and the marriage vows were said.
Indeed, she would fulfill the duty her father had impressed upon her, and then, once all was said and done, she would live the life she was meant to live…a life with Red Fox. That is, she would do so if Red Fox would oblige her, and, importantly, if he were still unmarried.
"Sister, what are you doing here on the hurricane deck of the ship when there is breakfast awaiting you in the Grand Saloon?" Her brother Frederic spoke up from behind her.
And, when she turned around to face him, she managed to smile at him before saying, "I was merely admiring the countryside before seeking my breakfast."
"Capital. Capital," acknowledged her brother as he stepped to her side and offered his arm to her. "I, too, have not yet indulged in the first meal of the day. Let me escort you there now, where I believe we shall be treated to the American breakfast of ham and eggs."
Briella had placed her hand upon his arm as he extended it to her, his elbow bent just so, as she knew was expected of him. Then, gazing up at him in his ever-proper black top hat, white shirt with notched collar and small bow tie, waistcoat, black dress coat and his light-gray trousers, Briella said, "Soon, Frederic, I will go there, but not at this time. Perhaps you could escort me back to my suite, instead. I did not sleep well, and I fear I am in need of a rest."
"Of course I will do as you ask, m'dear. But, first let us walk about this deck on the ship where we can speak to oneanother quietly. There are very few people enjoying the view from this deck at this time of day, and I think we might be able to speak privately. There is a matter of some urgency I must relate to you."
"Oh? Then, of course, let us walk."
"Capital, m'dear.Capital."
