Authors: Melissa MacNeal
Again they heard no footsteps or movement. What if they unhooked the doors and came face-to-face with those two foxes, who seemed determined to catch them at a game they themselves knew well?
And what does that matter? Didn’t Rubio just declare you the queen of this house?
Maria inhaled, bolstering her nerve. “If you would be so kind, Quentin,” she continued in a honeyed voice, “would you go downstairs and inform Mrs. Booth that my brother Rubio prefers chocolate to tea? It sharpens his focus when he listens to his spirit guides.”
“All right, I shall, milady. Will there be anything else?”
Maria rolled her eyes. Was there no end to this butler’s brazenness? “
No,
I think not! Tell Rubio I’ll be with him in two shakes of my tail!”
“An image we’ll all enjoy, I’m sure. As you wish, milady.”
At least this time they heard the butler moving toward the main door of Jason’s room—or was that a ruse? Even if she emerged first, to dress, would the servants hover in the hall to confirm Jude’s presence in her private quarters? What a nuisance, to be so closely watched! She was tempted to send them on holiday, except Jude had already told the butler to be in charge while he sailed to America.
Maria pressed a precautionary finger to her lips. Jude nodded, reaching for his clothes. Quickly she wiped between her damp thighs with the washcloth, and then unhooked the door. When she peered into her room, she saw only the sunny yellow walls and the furnishings…no sign of Mrs. Booth or her accomplice. She selected a dress of apple green taffeta—a gown with a pink flounced overskirt and bodice ruffles that always lifted her spirits—and then checked her mirror. It was too late to recoif her hair, so she hastily repinned a few loose tendrils. Then she tapped on the bathroom. “Coast looks clear,” she whispered.
“I’ll be down momentarily, love. You were wonderful!”
Maria glowed all the way down the stairs. She might have taken an unladylike ride, seated on the long, glossy banister, had she not seen Quentin awaiting her in the vestibule. He held a silver tea tray with a plate of cakes and tarts, and the bone china cups Mrs. Booth preferred for these afternoon refreshments. “Thank you, Quentin, but I requested a pot of chocolate for—”
“And Mrs. Booth’ll be along with it shortly,” he replied in a tight voice. He glanced around them and then fixed her gaze with his dark eyes. “Might I inquire what shall happen to Miss Crimson’s column, if you leave London in search of your Lord Darington?”
Leave it to this busybody to ask about that! Maria studied his face for any ulterior motives, and then checked to see that no one else could hear them. “Why do you ask? Why is it a concern of yours if—”
“Your readers will fear the worst, Miss Crimson!” he breathed. “If you don’t report on His Lordship’s funeral, and the séance Mr. Polinsky conducted at Lady Darington’s request—”
“Only
two
of the events I intend to write up, when I get a moment,” she whispered brusquely. “And why wouldn’t Miss Crimson go on holiday now and again? Everyone else does!”
“For
weeks?
Without any assurance of her return?”
“I won’t become Johnny Conn’s hostage—although it sounds much the same as living
here,
where I’m constantly spied upon!” She caught herself and lowered her voice. “I’ll inform my editor I shall be writing from afar, sending my posts to him by way of the transatlantic cable—”
“At the risk of someone else intercepting them? Perhaps using them to discredit Miss Crimson while you can do nothing to prevent it?”
Maria straightened to her full height, trying to capture the thoughts that spun so wildly in her mind. “What are you after, McCallum? If you’re wasting my time to catch Jude when he—”
“
I
could write your columns while you’re away, Miss Palladino!” Quentin’s slender face lit up with unabashed glee. “I’ve read
every one
of your pieces, committed the best ones to memory from sheer admiration and rereading! So why shouldn’t I become your—your ghost writer?”
Her jaw dropped. Again she peered around the vestibule to be sure Mrs. Booth wasn’t coming with the tea and chocolate—and an ear for such an incriminating secret. “Where on earth did you get
that
idea?” she rasped. “But more important, what will give you entrée to the social affairs and parties Miss Crimson frequents? I pride myself on
never
reporting what I’ve not seen and heard firsthand!”
“Didn’t I figure out your identity, your delivery method, before you were even slightly aware?” Quentin lowered his face to within inches of hers. “To whom else can you entrust your responsibility for the truth? Your
reputation
as a journalistic visionary?”
“That’s the most outrageous—”
“But confess! My proposition’s the answer—the one method of preserving all you’ve accomplished with your writing.” The young butler popped a lemon petit four into her mouth when she tried to protest. “I could send you the gossip from my forays, by way of the cable, and then deliver your written posts to the
Inquirer
. But your career—your audience—will be the furthest thing from your mind as you search for Jason, even if such a strategy could remain timely. Week-old gossip is about as relevant, as fascinating, as rubbish left to rot on the curbs!”
Maria couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This opportunistic butler believed he could share her social favor, her
glory
, by writing under her name! As though readers wouldn’t know the difference in reports written from a man’s viewpoint, after trusting Miss Crimson to deliver the dirt in her inimitable way these past few years! It sounded like a subtle form of blackmail, the way this young swain had so thoroughly considered the angles of her absence and then positioned himself to—
Footsteps on the stairs made them step away from each other.
“We’ll talk later!” Maria muttered. She strode toward the parlor, pausing to assess the room from the doorway: her brother stood in profile to her, looking out the window. His faraway expression bespoke a trancelike state he invoked to receive information from his spirit guides…or to convince others he was lost in his own thoughts rather than delving into theirs.
Rubio knew she was Miss Crimson. Just as he knew both Jude and Jason Darington were her lovers. But with Jude descending the stairs behind her, it was no time to trot out the secrets they each kept, because what might Mrs. Booth reveal to Lady Darington after their ship set sail? If Jason’s mother learned of her role as the gossip columnist, Maria would lose far more than her reputation as a writer: the pirate she brought home might not marry her, at his mother’s insistence. And
then
where would she be? Especially without Phillip Darington to defend her.
Lost and alone…with no one to blame but myself.
“Your tea, Miss Palladino. And the chocolate you requested for your brother.” Mrs. Booth gave a stiff curtsy from the opposite arched entryway to the parlor. A sly light glimmered in her eyes as Jude entered the room. “You two must surely be…
exhausted,
after the trials and tribulations of this fateful day. One can only guess what might
change
now that Phillip, Lord Darington, has passed on, with the heir to his title nowhere to be found.”
“And we shall correct that situation by week’s end, Mrs. Booth.” Jude strode to the housekeeper to take the tray. “We no longer require your services today, so why don’t you and Quentin enjoy some time off? Miss Palladino, her brother, and I have a great deal to discuss about fetching Lord Darington home, and we will
not
be interrupted—or spied upon.
Thank
you.”
The old woman pursed her lips, but Jude’s purposeful gaze kept her silent. Indeed, he waited for both servants’ footfalls to fade down the hall before he turned toward Maria and her brother again. “High time my brother returned, if only to discipline his domestics!” He set the tray on the table with an unceremonious clatter of the pots. “Far too presumptuous they’ve become, trapping us in the bathroom and then pretending each didn’t know what the other was doing! I would dismiss them, except we’ll rely upon them while we’re gone. Mum couldn’t stomach interviewing new ones in her present state. Father always did that.”
Rubio sat on the edge of the settee to pour his chocolate. “Are you concerned about her welfare while we’re away? I could recommend a physician, or a companion from—”
“Hah! You hit the nail squarely on the head when you implied she’d be
entertaining
in our absence. It’s best I won’t be around to watch that.”
The medium’s lips flickered. “And how convenient, that you and my sister shall be free to do the same while aboard the ship, eh? Almost like a…honeymoon without the nuptials.”
Maria perched beside her brother to serve the tea, aware that both men in this room were acting oddly. When had Jude ever taken command of household matters? And when had Rubio dared to imply her love life seemed dubious? As though
he
didn’t bed numerous ladies, be they friends of the Queen or the fetching blond seamstress who lived in the apartment across the hall from his! As she handed Jude his cup, it chattered on the saucer like teeth on a cold day.
Both men eyed her suspiciously. She glared impertinently at them and then jammed an entire jelly tart into her mouth.
“Maria appears agitated—about something other than her voyage to meet Johnny Conn.” Rubio glanced sideways over the rim of his cup. “All the more reason I should accompany her to find her beloved.”
“So you’re going with us! Hallelujah!” Jude stuck out his hand exuberantly. “Your presence—your powers—shall be an enormous boon as we locate Jason!”
Rubio grinned and grasped his hand. “Partners, then! Too long I’ve worked without time away to rejuvenate my spirit, and the fresh sea air—not to mention the company of my dear sister—shall be tonic for my soul.”
Why was it she’d just heard a
click
in her mind? Like the closing of metal handcuffs? Why was it every man here suddenly had designs on her? Quentin wanted to assume her secret identity and the notoriety that came with writing her column. Rubio saw himself as her keeper, the guardian of her reputation. And Jude would never get beyond being the
second
brother, would he? So he coveted her company and planned to make the most of it while his mother wasn’t watching.
The gold ring in Rubio’s nose winked in the light from the parlor window. Just for a moment, Maria imagined the hoop earring a certain pirate wore…the lascivious grin that lit his face when he let her play “bait” after they found his hideout.
She gulped her steaming tea and chose another jelly tart. Far as she was concerned, that ship bound for America couldn’t sail soon enough.
“A
hoy there, Darington! We sails in fifteen minutes! All aboard what’s goin’ aboard, sir!” The uniformed captain waved his hand above his head as he smiled down at them from the rail. He smoked a curved pipe and sported a white beard like Santa’s, so Maria liked him immediately. A stalwart, barrel-chested fellow named Moses MacLeod inspired trust and confidence, didn’t he?
As the breeze from the harbor whipped around her, Maria’s heart soared. While Jude had said the
Fortune’s Opportunity
was the oldest cargo steamer of the Darington fleet, to her it looked like an opportunity for fortune, indeed—a fortune that had nothing to do with the booty Johnny Conn had stashed away. Her dreams of Jason, every night since the séance, had felt so vivid, so
real:
she was touching him, kissing him, taking him into her body and soul, only to awaken alone in her bed…trembling and wet. At last, her lonely nights would come to an end!
As a stevedore clumped up the gangplank balancing one of her trunks on his shoulders, Jude smiled. “Shall we go, sweet Maria? It’s the moment we’ve been waiting for. Soon Jason will be with us again!”
“Whether he wants to or not!” Rubio chimed in beside them. He shielded his eyes from the bright morning sun, a grin lighting his exotic features. “I’m teasing, of course. I predict that once he lays eyes on Maria, the ship will sail us home in record time, powered by his excitement.”
He offered her an arm, as did Jude, and the three of them ascended to the deck of the ship. And what a glorious view! From the rail, Maria could see the flags and smokestacks of ships from around the world, bobbing on water that sparkled with diamonds. Beyond that, the ocean beckoned. Sea birds squawked, dipping and gliding on the currents.
She imagined herself as one of those birds, free and flowing in a fresh direction. While it was fine to be the queen of Jason Darington’s town house, she much preferred this unfettered feeling of boundless possibility. Not only would this voyage take her to the man she loved, it gave her time to contemplate her future…to consider letting Miss Crimson die a quiet literary death in her absence. She would miss the thrill of reading her columns in the
Inquirer
, yes, but perhaps that secret career had served its purpose. Far more important to be the wife Jason, Lord Darington, would cherish forever—the woman he’d have no reason to doubt or forsake. Once they were married, firmly ensconced in their new home, she’d have no need for the income, anyway. And once their babies started coming, such a subversive sideline would seem highly inappropriate!
Maria inhaled deeply, aware of Jude standing beside her, lost in his own thoughts. She glanced surreptitiously at him, relishing the close resemblance he bore—at least physically—to his twin. Was it her imagination, or did he
behave
more like Jason as well? Was he a different man since he’d channeled his brother’s spirit at the séance?
She leaned against the rail so she could converse more easily, because at this height the wind competed with her words. “Penny for your thoughts, dear—”
“What in God’s name is
Mum
doing here? And that charlatan Polinsky?” he snapped. “And Jemma! Oh, for chrissakes—”
Maria stared toward the pier as Jude hurried away. The sailors were in position to hoist up the gangplank, yet one raised arm had distracted them from their orders: Yosef Polinsky held them in sway with his charismatic smile as he urged Dora Darington and her daughter ahead of him. Jemma, clutching Willie to her shoulder, beamed at the burly stevedores as her pumps tapped a pretty tattoo on the gangplank. Her mother appeared regal in a traveling suit of deep plum trimmed in black: not a
merry
widow, perhaps, but a woman whose stylish hat gave her a purposeful, well-to-do air. Even though the crew had no idea who she was, Lady Darington exuded an élan no sailor would argue with.
And she looks so smug about it, too. As though she had this card hidden up her pretty sleeve all along, and Polinsky is playing it.
Maria gawked between the rails as Jude confronted their unexpected guests, but all she caught were their voices.
“What is
this?
Coming aboard at the last possible moment? You know damn well—”
“That’s no way to address your mother, Darington! She has every right to search out her son—”
“Did you think I could remain in that empty house while you and Maria went galavanting across—”
“Willie! Willie—oh
no,
Willie! Come back here!”
Maria sighed. She had been so ready for this escape, this mission for making her dreams come true.
As Rubio approached, his expression remained serene…as though he’d been far away in his thoughts while walking the deck. When he heard those voices below, however, one eyebrow arched. “So the three-ring circus has arrived after all? Why am I not surprised?”
Maria was going to quiz him about how much he knew, but a white bullet-shaped blur shot past their legs.
“After him!” Jemma screamed, gesticulating wildly at the sailors around her. “You really
must
catch my Willie! Poor little fellow’s never been on a ship before, and—well, what if he jumps overboard?”
“We should be so lucky,” Rubio muttered.
“No, it would only make things worse,” Maria replied with a roll of her eyes. “She would spend the rest of the trip weeping and wailing, inconsolable. Not to mention intolerable.”
Her brother gazed steadily at her, while crewmen thundered past in pursuit of Jemma’s ferret. When he ran a finger along her butterfly pendant, her heart hammered beneath it. “Prepare yourself,” he said in a low voice. “Much will be revealed about many on board this ship. Indeed, we shall learn more about members of Jason’s family than about his adventures since he was shanghaied. What you
do
with that information will chart the course for the rest of your life, my lovely sister.”
“And what do you mean by that?” Perhaps it was the lurch of the ship away from the pier that set her off balance. She fondled the butterfly pendant for luck. “What
would
I do with any compromising information, out on the ocean, miles from anyone I know?”
“Miss Crimson would think of something.”
“Miss Crimson is on hiatus.” She crossed her arms, looking directly into his bottomless brown eyes…wondering if he saw through her ruse. “Her days are numbered, you know. She hopes to become so involved in wedded bliss and motherhood, she won’t even
miss
her eavesdropping and journalistic pot-stirring.”
Rubio’s smile suggested he knew better. Which meant she should
not
hint about Quentin’s offer to write her society column. Maria hadn’t gotten the chance to talk with him alone this week: Mrs. Booth had hovered constantly as they packed for her trip. So while she hadn’t encouraged the butler to take up Miss Crimson’s pen, she hadn’t forbidden him, either.
Her brother’s clouded expression suggested he had bigger secrets in mind, however…revelations imparted by his spirit guides even as the chaos continued around them. Willie was no doubt terrified by so many strange men chasing him in their heavy boots, so when the ferret squirmed through a hole in the grating and disappeared below deck, a loud cry went up.
“Enough! Return to your posts!” Captain MacLeod commanded above the ruckus. He turned to the Darington women with a grim smile; removed his pipe to emphasize his point. “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Darington,” he said in a strained voice, “but your wee beastie is
your
concern, while the sailin’ of this ship is what I hired these sailors to do. Our rule aboard the
Fortune’s Opportunity
is ‘every man to his own work.’ Do I make my meanin’ clear?”
Wide-eyed, the young blonde nodded. Jemma’s forlorn expression appealed to the burly men’s sympathies, however, just as her youthful sweetness and female form held their attention. But they returned to their duties without further comment.
“Here’s your chance, Polinsky!” Rubio flashed the other medium a daredevil grin. “Use your intuitive powers to find Miss Jemma’s pet! Think of the favor you’ll gain, not only from the captain but from your lady friend, as well!”
“Rubio, honestly!” Maria blurted. “Why pour oil on the fire—”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, dear sister.” With his gaze still fixed on the trio that stood partway across the deck, Rubio raised his voice again. “If I were you, I’d start in the galley, sir. Before the cook puts ferret stew on tonight’s dinner menu.”
As Jemma’s hands flew over her mouth, Dora pulled her daughter closer. “That will be all from
you,
Mr. Palladino! Jemma has endured enough, losing her brother and her father, and now being uprooted to come on this voyage—”
Rubio shrugged, making the folds of his brocaded cape ripple richly. “Check the kitchen, I tell you. Start with the stew pots.” And with that, he strolled off toward the bow of the ship.
Maria sighed. They’d not even lost sight of land, and the confrontations had begun.
“Would you look at that
shameless
display!” Jude glared through an old spyglass he’d found in his nightstand, and then handed it to Maria. “Father not even cold, and that shyster’s leading Mum down the primrose path.”
As she looked through the porthole, at the couple sequestered in an alcove where lifeboats and coiled ropes were stacked, Maria smiled wryly. “With all due respect, your mother’s leading as much as following. She looks quite fetching in that red dress. Younger and more carefree than I’ve ever seen her.”
“And what are they doing now?
Kissing,
for God’s sake?”
She snickered as Jude snatched the spyglass. “Not much different from what
you
were doing, moments ago. Curiosity not only killed the cat, as you recall, but it’s cost you the last few moments of your own enjoyment. I must get dressed now, so we’re not seen coming from your cabin together.”
Maria slipped into yesterday’s clothing, eyeing the man at the window. Jude seemed possessed—obsessed—with the interplay between the two mediums, and between Polinsky and his mother. “For some women, it’s difficult to navigate life’s ebb and flow without a partner,” she remarked. “Dora’s still youthful and attractive, the widow of a wealthy man. She’ll use her wiles to attract another love, even if her flame for Polinsky burns out, you know. She’s made that way.”
Jude’s disgusted grunt was her cue to leave.
The morning fog made her exit from his cabin less obvious. Her own quarters were four doors down, along a narrow walkway: she passed Rubio’s room and heard his soft snores…Jemma slept silently in the larger cabin she shared with her mother…Polinsky’s was unoccupied. She entered her tiny space, only as wide as the length of her narrow bed, and poured water from her pitcher into the washbowl.
Last night after dinner, the Darington women had loudly protested the absence of modern facilities, but they’d been met by the mute stares of the male crew. The
Fortune’s Opportunity
was a cargo steamship, so no one had claimed this voyage would be luxurious—nor had they expected Dora and Jemma to come along. It hadn’t helped that Rubio’s prediction about finding Willie in a stockpot proved correct. Tensions only increased as the two mediums sat across the dinner table from each other, as though they had to constantly watch each other and prove their own powers.
As she emerged from her room in a fresh gown of simple coral serge, with a light shawl around her shoulders, Maria wondered if the entire trip would be marked by strife. The only two enjoying themselves were Yosef and Dora, and as she peered in the direction of the lifeboats, Maria envied the bliss on Lady Darington’s face: Polinsky was pressing her against the wall, his knee between hers, pouring himself into a passionate kiss.
She and Jason had kissed that way so many times…stealing affection at every opportunity, away from prying eyes. Maria stepped behind a post to watch them. Would she feel these same urges when she was Dora’s age? Would she still inspire a man’s excitement? Still crave the intimate give-and-take between lovers, after years of marriage?
When Polinsky pulled away from the lingering kiss with his eyes closed, Maria felt a wave of need. The men who met this magician distrusted him, but women…none were immune, were they? She walked resolutely toward the stairway, then eased herself to the deck below.
“No need to sneak around, Maria. I’ve known of your presence all along.”
She turned at the bottom of the stairs to find Polinsky watching her, his arms crossed as he leaned against the rail. The replies that came to mind would only confirm that she’d been spying—from Jude’s room—so she remained silent.
So did he. The sea breeze toyed with Yosef’s silver-streaked hair, but his expression remained inscrutable, as though carved in marble.
Dear God, he is attractive…even if he’s probing my thoughts with his mind.
His presence was so unsettling, Maria was glad she’d had experience with Rubio’s quirks and powers. Where was Dora? Why did it suddenly feel as though she herself and this master magician were the only ones on board, enveloped in the morning’s mist?
Yosef’s gaze lowered, to linger on the butterfly pendant. “Made by one brother as a gift from the other,” he murmured. “Be careful, Miss Palladino. Your infidelities will bring consequences.”
“Eh-everything does,” she pointed out, wishing she sounded more confident. What right did he have to judge her? Or to speak as though she were guilty of more than
one
infidelity—which, given her mutual agreement with the twins, had never been considered a breach of trust! Someone really should bring this imperious wizard down a peg or two.
He turned then, leaving her to simmer in resentment. Maria tugged her shawl around her shoulders and strode toward the bow of the ship, hoping to find her brother: he loved to ruminate near water, for it refreshed his soul. The rail along the ship’s front was unoccupied, however, so Maria gazed out over the ocean alone. Mesmerized by the swirling water as the ship moved through it…hidden away in the dense haze of early morning, she yearned for the serenity—or the excitement—she’d envisioned for her first ocean voyage. Yet the presence of Dora, Jemma, and Yosef Polinsky guaranteed she would feel only more anxious as the hours passed and they approached the shores of America.