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“Thank you, Captain Harris,” I say, “for your generous invitation and beautiful meal.”
I rise as well.
As we leave, I brush past a clammy and sallow Lord Montague. Sea travel does not suit him. We arrive at my cabin as the steward is leaving.
“Is Jenny in there?” I ask.
“No, m’lady, she’s above board with the Earl’s man, enjoying the fresh air.”
“Ah.”
I suspect a romance is brewing. I may lose a very capable assistant. I’d best look into this Steves’ background.
“Lord Bentwood,” the steward continues, “Mr. Goddard has vacated your cabin. Just waiting to say his farewells.”
“Good of him,” Bentwood says, studiously avoiding his wife’s eyes, which are just as studiously avoiding his.
“I see Jenny has packed my things.” She settles onto the lone chair with practiced insouciance. “There’s not much room for you, Bentwood. Barely room for Lady E. and me.”
“Are you ready to join me, then?”
I feel like an intruder but am fascinated just the same. He is now watching her not watch him.
“Ladies.” Bentwood steps fully into the cabin, closing the door behind him, leaving barely enough room to breathe. “Did either of you know Montague was on board?”
“Finally, you ask.” Apparently, Lady Bentwood has been waiting for this… “No, I did not know, I have had no interactions with him since that horrid night at the Ball and I am as surprised as you, to see him here.”
He glances at her shoulder, the bandage camouflaged by her clothes.
“I trust you.”
Again, I feel the intruder.
“Fine, that’s settled, why don’t you go see to this Mr. Cabba… I mean Mr. Goddard.” I shoo them away, only to stop them again. “Wait. What manoeuvrings could have gotten Montague on this ship of all ships, and why? I thought he’d outrun his creditors to the continent. Surely his life was at stake to remain.”
“He should have left months ago,” Bentwood admits.
“And you knew this?” Lady Bentwood asks.
Bentwood pinches the bridge of his nose.
“It’s time,” I tell him.
“Yes, I believe it is.”
He looks away, then back, eyes on his wife.
“Let me guess,” she says, “Papa ensured he left, which is exactly what my father would have done.”
Silence confirms her suspicion.
“You helped,” she asserts.
His eye twitches.
“How?” I ask, curious. “What did you offer him?”
“Solvency for his mother and sisters.”
