Love Between the Lines (10 page)

“
Not when you pay for my first class passage.”

“
I had wished to discuss future assignments with you and this made it easier to meet. And I felt that as this was your first time leaving your country, traveling alone—”

“
The other reporters aren’t on this deck. And this isn’t the first time I’ve left the US, you know. I went to Mexico to go visit those mines. I went alone. Not even Oyster came on that trip.”

“
Would you stop interrupting? Miss Drury, I apologize for worrying about your comfort and safety. Henceforth I shan’t.”

“
Good. That’s my job. And Oyster’s.”

For a moment
, he thought of Oyster and her, taking care of the issue of her “comfort.” He shuddered. Yet another inappropriate series of images.

“
You intend to spend time with Brinker?”

“
Yes, he tells me that he’s going to help me.” She moved away from him, sliding her back along the railing. “And he’s not important enough to be under the watch of people who might gossip. Anyway, I know who to avoid so you won’t be embarrassed.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
I bribed the stewardess to give me the details of the passengers.” She pulled a small notebook from a pocket of her latest dreadful gown. This one at least was appropriate for evening wear, low-cut enough to warrant a shawl. She squinted at the pages but it was clear that the swiftly falling darkness made it impossible to read. She shoved away the book with a sigh. “At any rate, this first class section is quite a lot of nobs and nabobs, she informs me. People like you.”

He continued
to stare steadfastly out to sea rather than meet her examining gaze. Those large blue eyes, the expressive mouth. He wouldn’t look and so wouldn’t be tempted. The soft breeze carried the scent of ocean and perhaps a hint of her. He drew in a deep breath.

“
I wonder,” she said softly. He leaned closer to listen as she continued. “Would that bribe to the stewardess be considered research expense? Will you reimburse me?”

For Christ
’s sake. He wasn’t certain which sensation was stronger, relief, amusement, or disappointment. He’d thought she’d been imagining something romantic about him. The woman was nothing more than a reporter after all. Any tension he’d seen had been some reflection of his own nonsense. Gideon had simply not had a woman in far too long.

“
You are salaried,” he said. “Isn’t that more than you’ve managed to wrangle from a publisher before?”

She laughed. Giggle
d, really. “Yes, and an outrageously high salary too. I’m just…just.” They stood so close he could feel the air move and hear the soft rustle of her taffeta evening gown when she shrugged.

He stepped back.
“Attempting to bedevil me?”

“
Aha! That’s it,” she cried as if he was a clever pupil. “Exactly. I have nothing better to do and I’m not used to free time. And now that we’re not to see one another, I won’t get a chance to for days and weeks, I expect. Perhaps not again,” she added.

“
Yes, well do your best to plague Brinker,” he said. “But don’t distract him from his duties.”

“
I would rather not.” She actually sounded wistful. Someone inside the cabin near them lit a lantern, and the soft glow poured from the porthole, bathing her in a golden light. “He would never allow himself to be distracted.”

He heard the mournful note. God. What a hen-brained female, longing for Brinker. He managed to keep scorn from his voice.
“Miss Drury. I should warn you that you’ll never get his ring,” he said gently.

“
His ring? Good heavens, marriage?” Her teeth flashed in a wide smile. “No, I don’t look for marriage.”

“
What do you look for, then?”

She wore what passed for an evening gown—loose fitting
, of course—and so her throat and clavicle were bare. When she shrugged, her delicate bones shifted. She looked frail, too easily snapped. “I don’t really know,” she said at last. “Good opinion?”

He bowed, wondering if she was lying.

She tugged up the top of her sagging long glove. “I haven’t dressed for dinner in years,” she said. “I do know how to behave in a reasonably civilized manner, so you need not worry about me a moment longer.”

In case he hadn
’t gotten the message to stop prying—which he had, of course—she held out her hand in farewell. “But we’re not supposed to be caught chatting with one another, correct? So thank you for everything. And I promise to give you an obsequious curtsey whenever we meet. Until we land, that is.”

He took her hand
, so small but with a strong grip. And through the layers of soft cotton they both wore, the heat from her reached him and surprisingly strong urges followed at once. He grew too aware of her bones and flesh, her warmth, her— “Good-bye,” she said, and she pulled her hand from his. Obviously the woman hadn’t felt the sudden awareness of touch that he had.

As she walked away, he gaped
after her. Such a scrawny thing to create such powerful responses. Had she done that on purpose?

Of course not.
She couldn’t know those moments held more than simple flirtation. He’d been blindsided by a fierce hunger for her, a hunger he rarely experienced. He’d be damned if he’d let her know.

That was the last time they were alone together on the voyage. The voyage went quickly, now that the ships were powered by steam and sail. Travel had changed a great deal since the first time he’d crossed the Atlantic, ten years earlier. Of course it helped that he had the money to pay for good fresh food. He wasn’t fed a scrap of hardtack. And he sat at the captain’s table several times, an honor saved for the elite.

Miss Drury and Brinker might be traveling first class
, but they were consistently seated at a table in a far corner. And they did seem to spend a lot of time together.

He met up with the two of them in the reading room one morning. They sat at a writing desk together, leaning over a thick book. The copy of Debrett’s, he realized. She’d taken off her hat, and her dark curls had grown longer and were now glossy ringlets.

“
You two are doing schoolwork?”

“
Exactly.” She looked up and smiled at him. “It’s much like this other book I just found.” She pulled a copy of
A Glossary of Biological, Anatomical, and Physiological Terms
from a pile of books at her elbow. “All categorization and lists of useless names and titles.”

Brinker frowned, but by heavens the
corner of his mouth quirked. The man was amused.

The manservant ha
d risen at once, of course. His hand still rested on the book, holding it open. And his fingertips almost touched her hand. No gloves on either of them. Now that was strange.

Gideon felt as if he
’d interrupted something intimate, and of course Brinker wouldn’t sit down until he left again.

He grabbed a random book from a shelf and bid them good
-bye. Miss Drury was already poring over some thick volume. Brinker gave him a bow and watched him leave. He reminded Gideon of a sheepdog on silent guard, watching a predator slink away from the flock.

London, England.

They landed on a dripping wet morning but Lizzy didn’t allow her spirits to be dampened. She would not miss her home or think of how far away she was from her mother. Even reminding herself that she’d rarely seen her mother the past several years didn’t help. The distance of thousands of miles shook her.

Lizzy hadn
’t slept well for the last few nights. A mixture of excitement and impatience kept her awake, composing lists of the stories she wanted to write. Acting as if she was on holiday with nothing to do but enjoy herself had strained her nerves.

When she met Oyster at the prearranged spot
near the Royal Victoria Dock, he looked pale and much thinner.

“
Couldn’t keep victuals down nearly the whole time,” he moaned. They’d only had four days of rough seas, and most of those were choppy, not frightening.

The custo
ms shed wasn’t crowded—most passenger ships landed in Southampton, after all—but Sir Gideon announced they would not linger because the three other new hires were to meet them at the small pub near the port. “Your baggage will be delivered. We’ll walk,” Sir Gideon said, and he strode ahead without looking back.

To her relief and disappointment, she
’d figured out that he wouldn’t conduct anything resembling a flirtation with her, but he now didn’t seem to notice her at all.

After the weeks of sailing, t
he steady earth swayed and she was grateful for Mr. Brinker’s offer of his arm. Oyster looked too green to help.

By the time they
’d walked to the inn, a five-minute walk from the docks, she had her land legs back.

She was the only female in the packed pu
b, and the air smelled of beer and smoke with an undercurrent of sweat and old newspapers, but she didn’t care. The crowds created a body heat she appreciated. Back home, she’d grown used to being the only female in a less than gentlemanly crowd, and, after her sojourn on the ship, this almost felt like New York.

Mr. Brinker
, however, looked decidedly uncomfortable. In a low voice, he said, “I think perhaps it would have been better to hire a hack and simply meet at Langham House. There isn’t a private room here.”

She sipped
a cup of bitter tea and waited for the men to settle themselves at the huge oak table. “That’s a problem because of my presence, Mr. Brinker?” she asked.

He
gave a curt nod. During their shipboard lessons, he’d grown more formal, not less. When Sir Gideon finally took the seat two places away from Lizzy, he took the time to cast a frown at each of them as if they’d been caught holding hands. Not that Lizzy could imagine such an intimacy with Mr. Brinker.

Sir Gideon
introduced them by going around the table and saying their names, starting with Lizzy, whom he introduced as Trudy Tildon.

“
I’m not surprised he nabbed you,” murmured the illustrator who sat at her other side. “I know Tooley, and he says your stories sell papers.”

“
He told you that?” she whispered. “He never said a word to me.”

“
Of course not. The bosses would’ve killed him if you started demanding better pay.”

Sir Gideon
cleared his throat. “If I might continue?” he said acidly. “I was giving an overview of the schedule for our publications that aren’t dailies. Many are not printed on the premises.”

He ticked off the weeks and linked them to the various
weekly and monthly publications his house produced. The printing presses were busy night and day.

She
hadn’t seen Sir Gideon like this before, efficient, no-nonsense, and focused. When her new employer stopped to drink some of his tea, she turned to Mr. Brinker, who also had a cup of tea in front of him but was evidently smart enough not to try to drink it. “Sir Gideon seems different,” she whispered.

“
He’s no longer on holiday, miss,” Mr. Brinker said. He returned to his usual blank stare into the middle distance, the face adopted by the best servants.

“
Do you know anything about the boardinghouse where I’m to stay?”

He nodded.
“It’s for ladies, and it’s located at the edge of the better neighborhoods in London.”

Mr.
Jenks, Sir Gideon’s secretary who’d met them at the docks, must have overheard their conversation. “That’s right, Miss Tildon.” Jenks stood and gave each of them a portfolio containing addresses and arrangements as well as some English currency for their personal use.

Even Oyster had a small portfolio
with money and an address not far from hers. So much more organization and care than Lizzy had expected—than she was used to.

The group pushed back
benches and chairs and rose because Sir Gideon had gotten to his feet.

Lizzy
yawned, suddenly weary from the excitement. As she told Mr. Brinker, she felt jittery and more than ready to get back to work. Except now she was only ready to find her rooms and wait for another day to explore.

Oyster, who waited for her
outside the pub, was surly—and unusually talkative. “Smells like fish guts and I can’t find my way around. They don’t have no proper blocks anyhow. And they all speak so funny I can barely make out what they’re saying.”

“
Are you sorry we came?” She wasn’t sure what she’d say if he nodded. Perhaps drag him back to the docks and book passage on the next ship home for them both.

He pursed his lips.
“Naw, ’course not.” He held up the leather portfolio, which looked small in his big hand. “This is peachy. I can’t read it all. You’ll help me tomorrow, right? After we settle in?”

“
Of course.” She stifled a sigh. Perhaps she’d feel more adventurous after a rest.

He waited by the iron railing in front of
her lodging house while she made sure she’d been sent to the right place. It was a tall brick town house—considerably older, neater, and better maintained than her New York boardinghouse. Her new landlady, a pink-faced blonde with several chins and a big ecru-colored apron greeted her warmly and said her trunk had been delivered and was waiting upstairs for her.

Mrs. Pruitt
peered out from behind the lacy curtains of the drawing room. “Is that large gentleman out front a friend of yours?”

“
He’s an employee.” Lizzy considered how odd that sounded and added, “That is we both work for Sir Gideon. I’ll tell him everything is fine, and he’ll be on his way.”

“
Oh goodness. Do you suppose he would care for a cup of tea?”

“
I could ask him, but we both just landed from America, and I think he wants to find his new lodgings as well.”

But
Oyster did want a cup. The new landlady had whipped off the Holland-cloth apron and greeted Oyster as if he were a visiting dignitary. “I haven’t met many gentlemen from America.” Mrs. Pruitt gave Oyster a wide smile, showing white, perfectly even, and obviously false teeth. “You’re much larger than the others.”

Wondering if she was witnessing the start
of a romance, Lizzy left them drinking tea. She declared she needed to rest and went up to her room.

After
the luxury of the ship, her new room’s lacy hangings, prints of sleeping shepherd children and doily-covered furniture struck Lizzy as slightly tattered. But the bedchamber was comfortable and a fire had been built in the hearth. Lizzy lay down on the bed. She’d rest for only a minute.

She
awoke in darkness pierced only by the last glowing coals in the fireplace. Lizzy shivered, disoriented and chilly and with the thorough certainty that she was done sleeping for the night no matter if the time was eight p.m., midnight, or near dawn.

She sat up
and groped for the matches and oil lamp on the bedside table. Once she had light, she considered unpacking a book but changed her mind.

For weeks
on board the ship, she’d tamped down her need to explore. But now curiosity rose to the surface, and she didn’t restrain it. She’d explore her new city, or at least the seemingly respectable neighborhood where Mrs. Pruitt’s house lay.

After washing herself in a small basin and changing her clothes
, she crept down the stairs, clutching a guidebook with maps. Her unloaded gun, the bludgeon, and some British coins lay in her pockets.

She wouldn
’t go far. Just a quick walk to get her bearings. Lizzy knew how a woman alone should walk: fast and purposeful. She took the house key from the tray by the front passageway, wrapped her big cloak about her, and went forth into the night.

Moisture lay heavy in the air, though the rain had stopped.
Primrose Hill was quiet—far too quiet for her taste—so she ventured toward the noise of busier streets.

A bell chimed half past eleven
when she found a busier thoroughfare. Puddles on the cobblestoned street reflected the lights of the streetlamps and she slowed to admire the crowded crooked buildings. Buildings looked ancient here and even the air smelled older too.

But she s
houldn’t have slowed because she’d evidently attracted someone’s attention. A man’s footsteps behind her, coming fast. She sped up and so did he. She glanced behind her and saw he wasn’t a police officer.

She slowed. When he slowed as well,
she knew he wasn’t going to pass her and she was his goal. Her heart beat fast as she clutched the bludgeon. And then her heart nearly stopped when a hand touched her shoulder.

She
’d learned her lesson in New York: hit first and apologize later.

She
whirled.

And landed a hard blow on the
side of the head of her new employer, Sir Gideon. A much harder blow than she’d intended.