Dagny pulled a protesting Liv from the small cabin, and when the door closed, Hallie tore off the dress. She couldn’t wear this. She walked over to the other bundle of clothes, unfolded them and laid them out on the bunk. She took off the one petticoat she’d bought and tossed it and the red dress onto a heap of rope in the corner.
Hallie put on her corset cover and heaved a relieved sigh. Now her deep cleavage was safely concealed by the high neckline of the linen undergarment. Then she picked up the frilly, white chemisette and slipped her arms through its sleeveless armholes.
Sitting on the bunk, Hallie looked at the remaining pieces of the reform dress. She set the short, blue jacket aside and tried to understand the fit of the lower two pieces. She reached into the brown wrapping paper and pulled out the sketch Mr. Oatt had given her from a past Godey’s Ladies Book. Strange though the billowy bottoms were, they really did look comfortable. And the seams would better protect her bandage. The bulk of the wound dressing was knotted high on her thigh, and when she walked, it chafed her tender skin. She pulled aside the inside seam opening on her drawers and eyed the bandage. It covered her leg from ankle to upper thigh, and despite the soothing salve, underneath the cloth strips it still felt like her skin was being eaten right through.
Hallie wobbled slightly as the ship creaked and rocked from a sharp gust of wind. Although her leg was hot, she was chilled, and with good reason. There was no coal in the small cabin brazier, and the late afternoon breeze was whipping its way across the bay, chilling the damp ship and turning the interior air downright cold. Hallie picked up the other garments and began to dress, hoping that the advertisements hadn’t lied about the practicality and warmth of Amelia Jenks Bloomer’s healthful but bizarre new attire.
12
Kit swung his leg over the side of theSea Havenand leaped onto the deserted deck. The northwest wind blew in short spurts, whipping flecks of ash from his dark, unruly hair. He brushed it aside, and as he walked toward the steerage and down the companionway, he could smell the stench of smoke from his gritty clothes. He needed a bath, but first he needed to see for himself that Hallie and the others were unharmed.
“Hello! Is anyone aboard? Helloo!”
The two small cabins in the aft were empty. Jan’s cabin was just beyond, and Kit opened the door.
Hallie was inside, and she was all right. At least, he thought it was Hallie. She was bent over tying something around her ankle, and that fanny sure looked like hers, even if there weren’t any leaves on it this time. “Hallie?”
She shot upright and spun around, obviously taken by surprise. “Kit!” she sputtered, clutching the waistband of the strangest garment Kit had ever seen. It looked like huge, billowing drawers, but the fabric was heavy trouser fabric. He couldn’t help but stare, trying to figure out what the hell she was wearing.
“You could have knocked.”
She looked ridiculous, standing there bare-armed, scolding him in those... things. Kit had to laugh. “What are you wearing?”
She looked down and then quickly spun around. “I’m dressing. Get out.”
“You mean there’s more to that getup?” Kit pushed away from the doorjamb and crossed over to her father’s desk. He pushed aside a scrimshaw paperweight and hitched his hip on the edge of the oak top. Dusting the ashes from his trousers, he rested his arm on his leg so he would be nice and comfortable while he was entertained. “This I’ve got to see.”
“I said, get out.” Hallie’s face was blood-red.
Kit spun the paperweight. “Your modesty is covered.” He pushed away from the desk and walked slowly around her, scrutinizing her from head to foot. He had a hard time keeping a straight face. “Covered by what, I don’t know, but you are covered.”
“This is a reform dress,” she informed him in a tone that indicated her superior knowledge.
“As in reformatory? How appropriate. That would be a great place for you.”
“No,” she shot back, “as in abolish—you know, correct evils. And your plans for this ship are certainly evil.” She stomped her foot, apparently to emphasize her next words. “I won’t let you do it.”
Kit picked up a piece of clothing from the bed. It looked like half of a skirt—the top half. He held it up and looked at her through the hole he assumed was the waistband. “How do you intend to stop me?” he asked, turning the thing this way and that, trying to understand its purpose.
Hallie jerked the overskirt out of his hands and threw it behind her. “We’re going to live here.”
“Oh you are,” he said, laughing.
“Yes. You could call it—” She stopped. “Homesteading. We’re going to homestead theSea Haven.”
“There’s only one problem.” Kit brushed the gray ashes from the shoulder of his dark coat.
“What?”
“TheSea Havenis mine. You can’t homestead someone else’s property.”
With a casual wave of her hand, she dismissed that. “We’re still not leaving.”
Kit had crossed over to the open porthole, and he stood staring at the bay, not because he wanted to look at anything in particular, but to avoid looking at Hallie. Her facial expressions touched something deep within him, something he didn’t want touched. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back slightly on his heels, still staring outside. “Hallie-girl, you’ll leave if I want you to leave. I can cart your sweet fanny off of here faster than hell could scorch a feather.”
“Just try it!”
He spun around, ready to do just that, but instead of facing an insolent, stubborn, beautiful blond brat, he faced the barrel of her father’s Navy Colt, in the shaky hand of that blond brat.
