“Is someone there?” he called, peering up the stairs, which, unfortunately, were completely empty.
He was heading up the stairs, taking them two at a time, when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps above his head. Reaching the next deck, he headed down the companionway, stumbling to a stop when a very feminine form plowed directly into him, one belonging to none other than Mrs. Davenport—a well-regarded society matron, and the woman who happened to be the employer of Miss Gertrude Cadwalader.
The mere thought of Gertrude had his lips curving into a smile.
She was a lady he found to be undeniably delightful. Unlike many ladies he’d recently become acquainted with, Gertrude was a very sensible sort, possessed of a wonderful sense of humor and ability to accept the peculiarities life sent her way with a smile on her lovely face.
The first time he’d met her, she’d been dyed an interesting shade of orange, a circumstance he’d found rather puzzling, especially since he’d been suffering from a blow to the head and had, at first, thought he’d been hallucinating.
Once he’d regained his sensibilities, he’d discovered he’d not been hallucinating at all, but had truly encountered a lady who resembled a sunset. The reasoning behind Gertrude’s unexpected color had been surprising to say the least, especially when he learned she’d willingly allowed Mrs. Davenport to coat her with an unknown concoction that was supposed to give her a weathered appearance to coincide with her milk wagon–driver disguise. To say the disguise did not turn out as planned was an understatement, but fortunately Gertrude’s color faded back to normal after a few weeks. While she’d been orange, however, she’d kept a wonderful sense of humor about her condition.
The very idea she’d not been bothered about being orange spoke volumes about her true character. And when Harrison had learned that she often allowed Mrs. Davenport to practice what that lady referred to as herartistic muse, that practicing having Gertrude traveling around society looking rather curious more often than not, Harrison had come to believe that Gertrude possessed a tremendously kind heart along with a most generous nature.
That he’d also concluded Gertrude’s employer, Mrs. Davenport, was not your typical society matron, there was no question, which made the very idea that she was currently standing in front of him, on a deck where guests were not assembled, a cause for concern.
“Mrs. Davenport,” he finally said, reaching out a hand to steady the woman when he realized she was wobbling on her feet. “Are you all right?”
Taking a second to shake out the folds of her skirts, the shaking causing something to jingle on her person, Mrs. Davenport flashed him a pleasant smile and nodded a head that possessed unusually dyed black hair styled in a manner that one would expect on a lady half her age. Ringlets bobbed with the nodding she was doing, and the tiny jewels that were woven into the dark strands winked here and there in the faint light coming from the lamps spread through the companionway.
When she finished nodding, she began regarding him out of eyes that were framed by lashes that had certainly been darkened by some substance, and eyes that were currently widened in what almost seemed to be a far too innocent way.
“I’m very well, thank you for asking, Mr. Sinclair, but what of you? You seem to be on some type of urgent mission. Dare I ask if something has gone horribly, horribly wrong with your charming boat and we’re about to find ourselves swimming with the fishes?”
Having never once heard anyone describe his three-hundred-foot yacht as a “charming boat,” especially since it was considered one of the most lavishly equipped yachts to have ever been built, Harrison felt his lips quirk into a grin as he took a hand he’d just then noticed Mrs. Davenport was holding out to him.
Raising that hand to his lips, he placed the expected kiss on it.
“You may rest easy, Mrs. Davenport. Thischarmingvessel is in fine working order. I was just down in the engine room and all the machinery is performing exactly as it is intended.”
Withdrawing her hand, one that Harrison just then realized was missing its glove, although her left hand was still covered in white silk, Mrs. Davenport tilted her head. “Is it common for the owner of a yacht to inspect the engine room while a celebratory event is occurring, Mr. Sinclair? I would have thought that would be a job for the captain, or a member of the crew.”
Having the uncanny feeling that Mrs. Davenport was attempting to ferret information out of him, Harrison settled for a smile and a shrug. “Since it is my yacht, I’m often found in many of its nooks and crannies for one reason or another, but enough about that. Why aren’t you enjoying the celebratory atmosphere of the upper deck? There’s not much to entertain a person on this level.”
Mrs. Davenport batted dark lashes Harrison’s way. “I’ve come to find Gertrude, of course. I believe she came down here to, ah, find a spot of quiet in the ... um ... library.” She suddenly began regarding him in a very considering fashion. “But, speaking of Gertrude, I was hoping you and I would have a moment to speak privately this evening, because, well, we have matters to discuss regarding my companion.”
An odd tingling began forming at the very base of Harrison’s neck, a tingling he normally felt when the skies were as clear as could be but he knew a storm was brewing just past the horizon. Rubbing a hand over the tingling, he frowned. “We do?”
“Indeed.”
“And what about Gertrude?” he pressed when Mrs. Davenport took that moment to become distracted with the folds of her skirts, twitching them to the right, which caused an unexpected tinkling sound from beneath her skirts. Her twitching came to an immediate end as she began taking an absorbed interest in the floor.
“Is there something I can assist you with, Mrs. Davenport?” he finally asked to break the curious silence that was now settled between them.
“What a darling gentleman you are to inquire, but no, I’m fine,” she said with a breezy wave of her hand as she lifted her head. “Now, where were we before I got distracted? Ah, yes, my companion.” She leveled a stern eye on him. “I’m not sure if it was a slip on your part, but you just called Gertrude by her given name. I was unaware the two of you had become so overly familiar with each other.”
“I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say we’ve becomeoverlyfamiliar with each other. We’re friends, of course, and it has been my experience that friends frequently abandon formality to embrace a more, well, familiar attitude.”
“Oh dear ... that simply will not do at all.”
The tingling on the back of his neck intensified. “Forgive me, Mrs. Davenport, but I truly do not understand why you seem so put out with my claiming a friendship with Gertrude.”
Mrs. Davenport nodded. “I’m not surprised you’re confused. You are a man after all, and men do tend to have difficulties grasping the subtle nuances of a situation.”
“There’s a situation?”
“Too right there is.” Mrs. Davenport leaned toward him. “Gertrude has become rather dear to me, Mr. Sinclair. In fact, she’s the best companion I’ve ever employed, and as such, I feel it is my responsibility to look after her best interests, and you, my good man, are a distinct threat to her.”
Harrison blinked. “I’m a threat to Gertrude?”
