His concentration was interrupted by Louisa emerging from the bedroom dressed warmly in a woolen walking suit. She smiled at him, asking, “What are you doing?”
“Writing a letter, but it will keep.” He put down his ink pen, giving her his full attention. “Did you want something?”
“I’m going to walk on the promenade deck, and I thought you might like to join me.”
She rarely invited him anywhere. He felt honored that she’d asked. Clearly, his wife wished to spend time in his company—averyrecent development—and he would be a fool to deny her this simple request.
“I accept your invitation,” he said, packing away his stationery kit. This was, perhaps, the first time Giles was aware of placing Louisa before Venia. In fact, his previous lover was the furthest thing from his mind as Lord and Lady Granborough navigated their way through the ship.
The promenade deck was busy and blustery. Folk lined the railings to watch the mail tender steam out of Queenstown quay, a pretty horseshoe-shaped harbor filled with colorful houses and church spires. Along the glassy waterfront, fishing boats and sailing vessels were moored.
Gulls cried overhead—the first they’d seen since leaving New York.
He and Louisa leaned against the railing to watch the spectacle.
Giles felt thrilled to catch an early glimpse at Ireland, which stood only a day’s journey from Liverpool. They’d be home by tomorrow evening!
Louisa did not share his enthusiasm for the panorama. “Will we be expected to ride on that little launch when we disembark?”
“Oh, no. There is a great landing stage awaiting us. Cunard will roll out the red carpet and we’ll be ushered down the gangway like royalty,” he explained. “There are usually press there, but since we’re not on the passenger list, I’m not certain whether they’ll be expecting us.” He frowned down at the mail tender, ferrying news out into the world. “It depends on how fast word travels.”
She arched over the railing to watch spy sea foam lapping against the hull of the ship. “It’s a long way down…”
Giles looked, too. “It’s a far drop. You’re not afraid of heights are you?”
This was surely not brave Louisa who traveled halfway ‘round the world on his arm. He couldn’t imagine her being afraid of anything.
Yet the sight of the surface, so far below, seemed to unnerve her. “What if I should fall in the water?”
Her fearful reaction puzzled him. “From up here? I’ll swim out and save you—or row out, realistically, and fetch you back in a dinghy. There are about a dozen of them on the boat deck ready to put in at a moment’s notice. Come, we can inspect them if you like.” As he guided her away from the railings, it dawned on him that hewouldsave her, were she ever in danger. He would do everything in his power to keep Louisa safe and to give her a good life, even at great personal cost to himself.
He took her gloved hand and kissed it. He laced their fingers, swinging their arms lightly as they strolled. He sought to distract her from this sudden surge of anxiety.
It felt pleasant to walk without the rumble of the ship’s engines underfoot. Without the propellers churching the sea, there was only a gentle rolling of waves as the ship rocked in the harbor.
They strolled the circuit of the deck until they came upon a group of children playing hopscotch while their mothers and nurses sat nearby.
He and Louisa observed the little ones skipping, jumping, and squealing with unbridled delight. No one bothered to quiet them or curb their fun.
“What is the point of it?” he asked her.
“To burn off energy, I’m sure.” She turned her pretty face toward him with the wind whipping her hair beneath the brim of her hat. “Did you and your playmate never hop scotch?
He grimaced at the thought, for he and Venia had never known such freedom, such inhibition even as children. They’d been neglected, ignored, and finally forgotten until they could grow up and become useful pawns in their families’ schemes.
“We played our own games,” was all he could stomach to say, for they’d played wretched, selfish, pointless games often at the expense of innocent people.
Louisa explained the rules to him as they watched the older girls. She chatted easily with the ladies, whose group included Gladys Waldo and baby Emily. A smaller girl with short, stumpy legs took her turn, slowly, for she had longer to go on her little legs.
One of the bigger girls approached Louisa and asked, “Would you like a turn, miss?”
She looked to Giles. He couldn’t help but encourage her. For who would care if the Marchioness of Granborough hopped scotch on an ocean liner?
“Go on, then, Louisa,” he said, laughing. “I should like to see you try.”
She sailed yachts, pedaled bicycles, and sang music hall songs to an audience of strangers. She’d shown a real fear of heights earlier, and he hoped to give her back her confidence. For too long he’d been embarrassed by her loud talking and misbehavior. He’d thought to lock her away, to put her out of sight—as his parents and Venia’s parents had done to their children—but she deserved to take dares, act boldly, and have fun.
Giles hoped he hadn’t crushed her spirit.
