TEN
THE BLUE EXPANSEof the Mediterranean Sea surrounded us the next day. My knowledge of the sea was limited, but I had a feeling the water here was a lighter shade of blue than the ocean. The warm air was a pleasant change from the vast coldness of the Atlantic.
Another not-so-pleasant change was having two brooding men, Oliver and Rennie, keep such a close eye on me. From breakfast to my afternoon tea, they were always a few feet from me, scanning the room, searching the corridors, and being stiff. When I went to the ladies’ room, they would wait for me in the corridor, knocking on the door if the affair required more than two minutes.
As I promenaded along the main deck, enjoying the sunshine, they followed, talking between themselves in hushed tones. They had the same attitude, the same walk, and the same grey suits. Co-workers, obviously.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but judging by how their fists clenched and their necks tensed, they were arguing. I twirled my parasol, pretending to stare at the horizon while throwing glances at them.
Rennie had been quite distant since the previous night. I couldn’t blame him. The contract was clear. No romantic involvement with me. But blazes, if he’d kissed me—properly, that is—I would have let him. If he’d wanted to touch me, I would have allowed it. Oddly enough, not a trace of guilt soured my mouth. Sandro wasn’t my betrothed, but I shouldn’t be so eager to kiss another man, should I? Or rather, so sad because another man hadn’t kissed me.
Still, did I want to return to England? Maybe. The trip was proving to be emotionally confusing and rather dangerous.
“It’s her!” a shrieking feminine voice bellowed from behind me. “That woman!”
I turned around to find Mrs Morrison glowering at me. Detective Norton stood next to her, his rounded glasses askew on his nose.
“It’s her. She did something to my husband.” The woman strode towards me, her dark hair escaping from her tight bun.
Rennie stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the termagant.
She came to an abrupt halt. “What have you done to him, you witch?”
I touched my chest. “Are you talking to me?” I glanced around to be sure she wasn’t addressing someone else.
“What’s happening here?” Oliver asked, sounding like an affronted British general.
Norton pushed his glasses up and dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. “Mr Edward Morrison, the husband of Mrs Morrison here, is missing.”
“Oh, my goodness,” I said. Not another one.
Rennie stiffened. “Since when is he missing?”
“Last night,” Mrs Morrison answered. “We went to bed, then he woke up saying he felt sick and that he was going to find the nurse. He never came back, and the nurse didn’t see him.”
“I’m sorry about your husband,” I said. “But I don’t have anything to do with his disappearance.”
“Did he leave my cabin to meet you?” She jabbed a finger at me. “Did he have an assignation with you?”
“How dare you accuse me of that.” I snapped my parasol shut.
Rennie stretched out his arms, as if to keep Mrs Morrison and me separated. “We’ll help search for him. You have my word.”
“You better find him, or else I’ll deal with that scandalous woman myself.” She pivoted and marched away.
Scandalous? Me? How exciting!
Norton fiddled with his glasses again. “Miss Fitzwilliam, I must ask you if you have any relationship with Mrs Morrison.”
Oh, confound it. Curse Edward. “No. I only saw the man once very briefly. We’ve never spoken.”
Norton showed the sceptical expression only police officers could master. “But Mrs Morrison said you told her that you and Edward danced together.”
Bother. “I was mistaken. The man I danced with was called Edward, but he wasn’t Mr Morrison. It was another Morrison. I mean another Edward.” It sounded weak to my own ears.
Norton didn’t look impressed. “A member of the staff remembers you asking her to find the cabin of Mr Edward Morrison. You were quite insistent on finding him.”
Tarnation. Even Rennie cocked his head towards me. Oliver scrubbed his chin.
