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I have to shout to be heard above the wind.
Lady Bentwood turns to her husband.
“You should have seen him! Extraordinary.”
“Which foreigner?” he asks, expression too blank. He knows exactly which foreigner we are speaking of. “When did you see him?”
I watch him as Lady Bentwood rushes to explain, “Last night, he spoke to us while you were in search of the Captain.” She turns to me. “Do you think he’s involved? You did say—”
“No.” I don’t want her to continue in front of Harris’ men. “The man intrigued me, that is all.”
“I see.”
Bentwood nods, without an iota of curiosity.
Too many things are not adding up. They will have to wait.
“I shan’t be long,” I promise, and we part, but not before I witness Lady Bentwood herding her husband belowdecks as she scans the surrounding area for danger.
Her tenacious attempt to protect him amuses me, which it shouldn’t. It illustrates the seriousness of the attack. One of the reasons I believe her. Whether Lord Bentwood was the target is another matter.
We had not planned to be on this ship. The arrangements were hasty and riddled with problems, uppermost: finding room for us aboard. Hence the shared cabins. Improbable to imagine a killer would have followed Bentwood to sea, and far too much of a coincidence that he happened to meet up with us on this ship.
Those answers would have to wait. Something on the foredeck has drawn an excited crowd. I will investigate as I make my way to Jenny.
Chapter Four
A Man’s Perspective
“We’d not have to suffer this god-awful ship, but my steady, unflappable husband is in a rush,” Kat tells Lady Eleanor.
I hear ‘steady, unflappable’ as boring. She often implies this, but there’s more to her opinion of me than she admits. At least, I hope so. We are married, after all.
Withholding a sigh, I prepare to step forward until Lady Eleanor asks, “Why were you raised in Bentwood’s nursery? Surely your father could provide a governess with an army of nursemaids.”
Curious, I listen.
“Papa feared I would be lonely. Besides, keeping a large home open for a mere child is a foolish expense.” My wife was never a ‘mere’ anything. “And he had options. He is a diplomat, after all.” Other than a quick glance, Kat studiously avoids looking at Lady Eleanor as she explains, “His words affect the investments of others.”
“What bearing does that have on the issue?” Lady Eleanor asks.
I know that lift of Kat’s chin. She’s on the defensive.
“Really, if you must know…” I debate interrupting or getting well away when Kat claims, “The former Lord Bentwood appreciated having my father’s ear and influence.”
“Ah.” Lady Eleanor straightens her silverware. “But Lady Bentwood was not in such accord.”
Of course mother was!
Wasn’t she?
“It is not for the women to decide,” Kat says and finally looks toward Lady Eleanor. Something unsaid passes between them, and the starch eases from Kat. I’m still wrapping my head around the idea that Mama may not have wanted her in our home. Ridiculous.
“I am rather incorrigible,” Kat admits. Her chuckle is mirthless. “I’ve never told anyone before.”
“Surely they noticed,” Lady Eleanor suggests.
“Lady Bentwood is no fool, but” — she leans toward Lady Eleanor, in confidence — “I’m afraid I’m the reason Bentwood was ripped from the nursery at such a young age. It’s all my fault.”
