“No. You and your letter will both arrive in New York, Mr. Stanbridge. You have my word.”
“Until then, promise me that you will not tell anyone about the letter.”
“Of course I won’t tell anyone about it. The letter is your personal business, sir.”
“For some reason I think that I can trust you. In any event, it doesn’t look as if I’ve got much choice.”
“I will keep your letter safe, Mr. Stanbridge. In return you must promise me that you will recover from your injury.”
She couldn’t be certain, but she could have sworn that he almost smiled.
“I will do my best,” he said.
He closed his eyes again.
She removed the cloth, dampened it and then used it to cool the portions of his overheated chest and shoulders that were not covered by the bandage.
A knock sounded on the stateroom door.
“Come in,” she called quietly.
Yates, one of the two stewards, put his head around the door.
“Is there anything else I can do to help, Miss Doncaster? The captain told me you are to have everything you need.”
“That will be all for now, Mr. Yates.” She smiled. “You have been very helpful. I have cleaned the wound as thoroughly as possible. The stitches have slowed the bleeding. From now on it is up to nature. Fortunately, Mr. Stanbridge appears to be endowed with a strong constitution.”
“The captain says that Stanbridge would have died back there on St. Clare if you hadn’t found him in that alley, got him to theStarand closed up that hole in his side.”
“Yes, well, he didn’t die so there is no point dwelling on what might have happened.”
“No, ma’am. But he’s not the only one on board who has cause to be grateful to you. The crew knows that you’re the reason Red Ned didn’t die of that fever he came down with last week and Mr. Hopkins didn’t lose his arm after his injury got infected. The captain is telling everyone he wishes he could keep you here on theStar. The crew would be pleased if you stayed and that’s a fact.”
“Thank you, Mr. Yates. I’m glad I could be of some assistance, but I must return to London.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Yates bobbed his head. “Ring if you need me.”
“I will.”
The door closed behind the cabin attendant. Amity reached for another wet cloth.
Near dawn the fever broke. Satisfied that Stanbridge was out of danger, at least for the moment, Amity curled up in the room’s only chair and tried to get some sleep.
Sometime later she awoke with a start. An unfamiliar flash of awareness shivered through her, rattling her nerves. She blinked several times, listening closely in an attempt to identify whatever it was that had roused her from her troubled sleep. All she heard was the low rumble of theNorthern Star’s big steam engines.
She unfolded her legs and sat up somewhat stiffly. Stanbridge watched her from the bunk. That was what had awakened her, she realized. She had sensed his gaze.
She was oddly flustered. To cover the awkward moment she fluffed out the folds of her staid, brown traveling gown.
“You are looking much improved, Mr. Stanbridge,” she said.
It was the truth. His eyes were no longer hot with fever, but there was another kind of heat in his expression. It sent a shivery thrill of excitement across the back of her neck.
“I’m glad to know that I appear to have improved.” He shifted position a little on the bunk. His face tightened in pain. “Because I certainly feel like hell.”
She glanced at the medical kit on the dresser. “I’m afraid there is not a lot that I can do for your pain. I am running low on supplies. I have a little morphine left but the effects are short-lived.”
“Save your morphine, thank you. I prefer a clear head. I’m not sure I introduced myself properly. Benedict Stanbridge.”
