However in his small reaction, Mr. Penn-Leith showed himself to be cut from a different cloth. He trusted her to sort her own problems. To know her own mind. To be a person in her own right.
He wished to be her partner, her equal. Her friend. Ethan Penn-Leith would never view Allie as a shiny bauble to acquire for his own gain or to soothe his vanity.
Something cracked beneath Allie’s breastbone. One of the braces, possibly, that encased her distrust of men.
Perhaps . . .
Perhaps, she would consider trustingthisman.
Not an ocean of trust or even a lake. But a thimbleful?
Yes. Maybe that she could conceivably manage.
12
Ethan didn't speak with Lady Allegra for the remainder of that first day.
Kendall ensured it.
His Grace shot Ethan warning looks anytime he got within twenty feet of Lady Allegra.
It was all for the best, really. The duke had made his position exquisitely clear, and Ethan knew Kendall would crush him like a gnat should he disrupt His Grace’s orderly universe.
So instead of attempting to circumvent Kendall’s strictures as he desperately wished, Ethan spent the day aboard ship charming his way through the ranks. The more allies he had, the better.
At dusk, theSS Statesmandocked in Cromer along the Norfolk coast for the evening, and the passengers made their way to a quayside inn. There, Ethan dined with Kendall’s secretaries in the inn’s taproom. Soon, the entire dining room was listening in, travelers and local tradesmen alike eagerly asking questions.
After a request from an elderly farmer, Ethan climbed atop a table in order to be better heard. At one point, he looked up and caught Lady Allegra staring at him inscrutably before following Lady Whipple up to their rooms.
The sight caused a painful hitch in his chest. As if a string were stretched between them, connecting his ribcage to hers, and it pulled too tight, pinching his heart as her skirts disappeared up the staircase.
Ethan rubbed a fist over the ache and could have sworn the candles dimmed in her absence.
The ocean grewfitful the next morning. By mid-afternoon, it was throwing a tantrum.
Dark clouds rolled in. Rain lashed the rigging in blinding sheets. In response to the downpour, the North Sea roiled and lurched, seeming determined to either send them to the bottom of the deep or dash them atop rocks.
The sails creaked and midshipmen called back and forth as they fought to keep the paddle wheels in the water. The steam boiler and mechanical gears clanked, the noise rattling ominously through the ship.
Ethan retreated to his tight quarters along with Kendall’s man of business and two secretaries, each clinging to their seats and praying they didn’t need to lunge for the chamberpot. Lady Allegra and Lady Whipple were closeted in the small stateroom, likely fighting a similar battle.
The ship shuddered and creaked around them. After hours of being tossed about like a toy boat in a barrel, a loud crack sounded and the entire ship tilted alarmingly to port.
Too queasy and unsteady to even attempt to discover what had happened, Ethan and Kendall’s men remained in their quarters until the vessel docked in Whitby with a tired thud. Here, the ocean break-wall and surrounding cliffs offered a respite from the worst of the storm, permitting the rain to fall in a more orderly fashion, straight down and soaking.
Emerging onto the rain-lashed deck, Ethan figured he looked similar to Kendall’s men—wild-eyed, wobbly-kneed, and bedraggled as a nearly-drowned cat.
Only Kendall himself appeared unaffected. He stood beside the captain at the mizzenmast, talking in a clipped voice, only pausing for the captain to bark orders to the crew. Phrases like “cracked beyond repair” and “taking on too much water” rang across the deck.
“Penn-Leith!” Kendall called as Ethan walked toward the gangplank.
Ethan crossed to the duke. “Your Grace?”
“We will be staying in Whitby for the night. Unfortunately, the storm has damaged the steam propeller, and we are taking on water far too rapidly for my liking.” Kendall had lost his hat at some point. His gray hair clung to his forehead and dripped over his ears. He blinked water out of his eyes. “We need to see to repairs immediately. Would you escort my sister and aunt to the inn? It is far too dangerous for them to remain aboard, and I would see them comfortable for the evening.”
Ethan nodded in surprise. “I should be honored, Your Grace.”
The duke narrowed his eyes. “Do not read too much into this request. I require my secretaries’ assistance, and my man of business—” Here Kendall spared a glance for said gentleman, currently losing what was left of his lunch over the side of the ship. “—is rather indisposed. I trust you to behave with the utmost propriety.”
