In a fit of temper, she cast the flowers from the table, shattering the vase, and soaking the carpet at her feet. Cold water pooled between her toes. Broken blossoms littered the floor. She ought to ring for her maid to tidy the mess. Instead, Louisa dressed quickly, bundled up warmly, and fled the room. She slammed the door at her heels without so much as a backward glance at the destruction in her wake.
If a man could turn his back on the mess he’d made, a woman could, too.
Louisa traversed the paneled passage, only conscious of the rolling ship due to the delicate sway of the light fixtures overhead. Thick carpet padded the footsteps of other first-class passengers as they shuffled past, nodding politely to one another, bidding each other ‘good afternoon’.
She soon reached the reception area. A peaked skylight illuminated the grand staircase like a beacon, and she ascended the polished teak steps, her heeled shoes clipping against the treads as she climbed.
Campania’spromenade deck was bustling on such a fine autumn day. Music drifted from the assembly room next door, and the faintest odor of tobacco wafted from the nearby smoking room.
Louisa walked toward the exterior door, which a gentleman held open for her.
“Ma’am.” His eyes lingered over her figure for a moment longer than necessary.
A man’s appreciative gaze was nothing new to Louisa. One day before, she might’ve been flattered at such open admiration, but knowing what she now knew—understanding whatthat lookmeant between the sexes—filled her with indignation. She wasn’t some creature to be ogled and pawed at. She was a woman, a person. She deserved more than to be lusted over.
She emerged onto the shaded promenade deck. Wind whipped her skirt hems and pulled at the brim of her hat. Louisa was thankful for her warm woolen walking suit as she ‘took the air’ with a troop of like-minded strollers, and for the blessed sturdiness of the two jeweled hatpins keeping herchapeauaffixed to her head.
Louisa joined the others walking the crowded circuit. Although there were plenty of seats, whether on benches bolted to the boards or the cane-backed loungers available to rent, she felt a distressing sense of restlessness. She dared not sit idly, riding quietly toward a fate that seemed so unfulfilling.
She fell in step behind a father escorting his young daughter. The silk ribbons in the girl’s hair fluttered, and her dainty gloved hands fussed with them. Apparently—Louisa couldn’t help but eavesdrop—the girl pleaded with her father to let her wear her hair up, “At least for dinner, Daddy!”
Putting up one’s hair was such an important event in a young woman’s life. Louisa recalled having that same conversation with Mamma and Pappa only a few years earlier. She had wanted to look as mature as she’d felt in those early days of womanhood, yet her parents had been reluctant to allow her to grow up too soon.
Louisa wanted to butt into the discussion and warn the girl not to rush toward adulthood. To take the time to learn and grow, and come to know herself as a person. To enjoy these precious days with her father, for they would pass in the blink of an eye.
Louisa suddenly felt every mile separating her from her family. She longed to turn back to them, to ask Mamma why she’d kept her ignorant ofso much.Why had Pappa allowed her to marry a cold and mercenary man?
They had trusted Louisa to know her own mind, for she’d willingly wed Lord Granborough, and had been a champion of her engagement to the Englishman from the very start.
Promenading passengers moved around her, shouldering past her. She stepped aside, apologizing for blocking the walkway.
Louisa idled near a row of deck chairs. She stood within sniffing distance of an overly perfumed society matron swathed in sealskin. Only the woman’s hat and hair, and her disapproving face could be seen over her furs.
She cast a chilling glare toward Louisa’s fashionable form. Maybe the old woman disapproved of gigot sleeves and tailored skirts. Or maybe she was bitter over life’s disappointments.
Louisa had only just experienced her first great setback in an otherwise charmed life. She glanced down at this matron, fearing the kinship they shared. After a lifetime of heartbreak and frustration, would Lady Granborough become as miserable as she?
She turned from this woman, refusing to accept this fate. She gathered her skirts and ran to the railing, sucking in lungfuls of raw sea air. The autumn chill burned her face. The wind stung her eyes. She swiped at her cheeks with gloved fingertips, smearing saltwater across her face.
Poised between innocent girlhood and jaded maturity, Louisa searched the horizon for the strength to rise above her mistakes and for the will to find her own happiness, independent of life’s circumstances.
She’d got herself into this marriage.
Now, she intended to see it through.
CHAPTER NINE
There was a fine chop on the water, with nothing standing betweenCampaniaand the horizon. Giles had gone to the forecastle of the ship to feel the wind in his face, where he’d spent the majority of the day stewing in self-loathing. But there was a curious thing about high speeds, sea air, and bright sunshine—it buoyed the heart. He found it impossible to remain grim.
He longed to find Louisa, to ask about the flowers he’d sent. If her spirits were still low, he might ask her to join him on the deck, where he was in a better position to make amends for last night’s insensitivity.
Giles lifted his greatcoat collar against the breeze as he rounded a corner and made his way toward the more populated areas of the ship. The first-class promenade had grown crowded as the sun traversed the sky, and by late afternoon, the deck teemed with passengers enjoying the bright, brisk day. There was an air of conviviality that felt disconcerting to a man who’d just emerged from solitude.
He nodded politely to those who spoke to him. Doubtless, rumors of Lord and Lady Granborough’s presence onboard had been whispered ‘round the dining saloon at breakfast and gossiped about over tea in the assembly room. Passengers may have recognized his face from the photographic sketches in the weekly papers, or he may have drawn attention to himself simply by moving against the flow of foot traffic—most guests walked with their faces in the wind, while he’d turned his back to it.
Snaking his way through the crowd, Giles made steady progress toward the door. He intended to return to his stateroom suite and fetch Louisa, to bring her above deck and share these last golden rays of sunlight, yet he saw she was already there.
His wife stood at the railing, her skirts fluttering and hat flailing. If she weren’t careful, the wind would take that feathered confection from atop her head and send it sailing.
