“That’s my story—your uncle approved it!”
“He approved your idea for a human-interest piece. I, on the other hand, will write a factual report.”
“My story will be factual.” She clutched her handbag and resisted the urge to smack him with it.
“Wonderful. Perhaps they’ll complement each other.”
A noise similar to a snarl escaped her. “Fine. But I have been personally invited to several private events. The main event is not until the day after tomorrow, so what will you do in the meantime?”
“Didn’t I mention that my aunt lives there? I’ll be paying her a visit.”
He had a ready excuse for everything. “Of course she does.”
Mack’s gaze moved to the wooden steamboat behind her, and she held her breath as he studied the weathered helm.
“The final ‘e’ inPersephoneis missing,” he said finally. “You know there are better means of transport, don’t you?”
She raised her chin. “It was the only one that fit my budget, and the captain has already assured me of his expertise. He’s made the run over a dozen times.”
Mack sighed. “You really are new to the area. Some of these captains run the same route hundreds of times, if not thousands. You picked a veritable infant in terms of captaincies.”
She hesitated. “Everyone deserves a chance.”
Mack’s inspection rose to the sky. “And there’s a heavy fog out there.”
It was true. In the distance, a low carpet of gray mist blotted out the horizon. “So?”
“Navigation is much harder in the fog.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “It should prove a novel experience, thrilling even.”
“Do you see how there are only a handful of other passengers waiting to board? That’s a sign it’s not the best option. We could catch a later ferry once it has cleared up.”
When he put it that way, the trip sounded downright terrifying. But maybe that’s what hewantedher to think. Maybe hewantedher to miss her event. And if she capitulated to his arguments, he would no doubt lord it over her.
“I’m going on thePersephone, Mr. Donnelly. If you’re afraid, you’re welcome to take another steamer. One far away from me.”
“Not a chance,” he said, so low she almost missed it. What did that mean?
“All aboard,” a crewman called.
Gathering her courage and her worn baggage, she marched across the gangplank. She made her way to the bow and found a seat on a bench. Once her valise was squeezed underneath, she arranged her skirts and clasped her hands in her lap.
Mack sat down beside her.
She let out an irritated huff. “Must you sit with me? There are plenty of other seats.”
He arranged his long legs in front of him, crossing one ankle over the other. “I don’t think this little steamer has enough room to separate the men from the women. Besides, did you see the state of the saloon?”
Winnie glanced over her shoulder and grimaced. The saloon was barely large enough for ten men, but she spotted five spittoons. Being stuck in there was her worst nightmare.
“Fair enough. But don’t think we’re going to converse throughout the voyage.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
A tiny, hunchbacked old woman slid past to occupy a nearby bench. “Begging your pardon, dear, but could your husband hand me my baggage?”
She gasped in horror. “He isnotmy husband.”
