Transmuted (38 page)

“Please,” Ashmore interjected, “wait until we are not standing in full view of others.” I turned, my petticoats flouncing some, as I leveled my most haughty stare upon my tutor.

At his elbow, Lord Piers failed utterly to mask his humor.

“I will,” the earl said, approaching me with a wary eye on Hawke, “miss you the most, dear sister.” He bent to give my cheek a kiss. “My mother sends…” He paused. Then, with a crooked smile, “She sends her regards.” Which was all I could expect, and perhaps a great deal more than even expectation allowed.

As my mother before me, I chose a man whose role in Society was much lesser than mine. I would give up all for him.

The difference, as I saw it, was twofold: I neither cared what Society thought, and had no desire for station. The marchioness’s kindness, therefore, did not sting, no matter what words she might have couched said regards in.

I had no ill will left. I squeezed Piers’ arm in a gloved hand. “If you are ever nearby, do come visit.”

“I might just do that,” he replied, winking. “Should you ever find yourself alone, remember me fondly.”

Hawke stepped close enough that his chest all but glued to my back. “That’s enough, Compton.”

If the earl beat a bit of a hasty retreat, his laughter said he didn’t take it to heart. “Write,”

he called over his shoulder.

I promised that I would.

Ashmore clapped Hawke on the shoulder. “Relax, old man.”

“Who are you calling old, Folsham?” Hawke growled.

Like dogs around a bone.

I abandoned them all for the couple who waited at the far edge of the docks. Zylphia and Communion stood together, not wholly touching but so obviously united that it brought a tide of affection with it. The sunlight poured over the busy docks, turned her eyes the same color as the sky and just as warm.

“Are you certain I can’t convince you to come with me?” I asked, not for the first time as I took Zylphia’s outstretched hands in mine.

“I won’t say I know what the future holds,” my friend replied, her lovely mouth caught full in a smile. “But I have family there, I think. Perhaps when this little one is older.” A heavy hand clasped my shoulder—most likely there because my traveling hat would not allow Ishmael to pat my head, as was his wont. “You be good, girl.”

A man of so few words, and so much said within.

I knew that Zylphia wouldn’t come without Ish, and Communion couldn’t abandon his Bakers, few as they had become.

It hurt to be so separated, but I understood.

I turned a warm smile to them both. “If you ever need anything at all, you send word.”

“Promise,” Zylphia replied.

Ish squeezed my shoulder gently, his version of the same.

“Boarding,” called a man in uniform from the deck of the sky ship bound for America.

“Now boarding the
Winsome Dove
, at your leisure, ladies and gents!”

Zylphia blinked tears away. “Go and be happy,
cherie.
Remember we are always together.”

I kissed her cheek, then tugged Ishmael down by the shirt collar to deliver him the same. If his skin were any lighter, I suspected I’d see it blush.

“Safe travel,” he rumbled.

“Cherry,” Hawke called.

I turned, clapping a hand to my hat as a stiff breeze rolled across the fog at the lip of the docks. It tugged at my skirts, brushed over my cheeks and bore with it the acrid sting of the peasouper I’d spent so long in.

A bit of it stung the eyes. Or so I’d claim if anyone were to call me on the tears within. Ashmore waited at the top of the rope-lined gangplank leading to the ship that would propel us into our new lives. Hawke waited at the bottom, his gaze tipped to the sky. As I passed Piers, he caught my hand, lifted it to his lips in affectionate courtesy.

Genuine affection filled his fog-green eyes.

“I will miss you,” I told him. “Give my best to Miss Turner.”

“I will,” he said, and let me go as the bells upon the
Dove
rang out.

The name of the ship gave me great comfort, for I likened it to Fanny’s own blessing. Capturing my skirts in hand, I hurried to Hawke, and with him, up the gangplank. Gathered upon the deck, the passengers who had all booked passage to the Americas clustered together. I made my way to the front, the rail polished to a warm gleam and the whole of the docks spread out before us.

At my left, Hawke wrapped an arm around my waist.

At my right, Ashmore braced one gloved hand against the rail and smiled out over those who’d come to bid the ship
bon voyage.

Standing not far from each other, Lord Piers tipped his hat in silent farewell whilst Zylphia waved like mad—Communion lifted a broad hand, but kept a wary eye on her balance. I touched my lips with my fingertips and cast the kiss out to them all.

When the ship started to move, aether engines warming up with a bone-deep thrum of power, I grabbed the railing and leaned against Hawke.

He held me close to his side, saying nothing as I watched the docks—and those I loved upon them—get smaller and smaller.

In time, Ashmore sighed and said, “And so do we travel the world. I’ll meet you at the dining hall for supper.”

The other passengers drifted away, off to visit their cabins or see to whatever entertainments the magnificent
Dove
offered.

Hawke dropped his chin to the top of my head. “Are you prepared?”

I smiled out into the cloudscudded blue of the world I had never before seen. “Perhaps.”

“Then, Miss Black,” he said, turning me in his arms, “let us make of ourselves something peculiar.”

I laughed. “We are already a disgraced countess and a ringmaster stripped of his gardens.

How much more peculiar do you wish to be?”

He touched my lips with two fingers; a sort of kiss that could be delivered in full view of the busy crew. The bit of devil blue in his eye flared with intensity, and a hunger that would never abate. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I look forward to see what will happen as I fall even farther.”

Oh,
sod
the crew. I reached up and clasped his face between my gloved hands, pulling him down for a kiss as thorough, as hungry, and as bloody well inappropriate as he had ever given me.

The whistles and cheers of the men who manned the ship rang in my ears, burned as a flush on my cheeks.

Hawke’s laughter, a chuckle as rich and deep as the force of his will, slipped over me. “If you’re going to get embarrassed,” he said against my ear, “don’t do it.”

I ignored that, stepping back with a haughty sneer. “I am going to my cabins.” He caught my arm ere I stepped far, tucking me more firmly against his side and matching his pace to mine. “
Our
cabins,” he corrected, with a thread of challenge that dared me to argue.

Smiling, I did not. Ashmore had booked us passage as husband and wife, under an assumed name. Just in case our various opponents—the Society collectors, the Underground, or unknown allies of the Veil—might have greater reach than we expected.

Through corridors and past other guests, we strode arm in arm. As he opened the door to the suite Ashmore’s man had booked for us, Mrs. Booth looked up from the dresses she was in midst of organizing.

Her smile beamed ear to ear as Booth limped carefully in from the adjoining door, his posture stiff to ensure he did not worry his wounds. “Little miss,” he said by way of greeting, affection in the words. “Leviticus will be up for supper.”

With his arm broken and mending slowly, Levi could not continue his trade. The boy had abandoned it in hopes of gaining fortune in America.

I knew that hunger too well to talk him out of it. If I had anything to say, he’d be successful.

“Thank you, Booth,” I said, and then rather more sternly, “Now do go rest before your wounds open.”

“Wouldn’t hear of it unless it came from you,” Mrs. Booth added with a
tsk
of her tongue. “Come on, you. You heard the miss.”

Booth allowed his wife to usher him across the thrumming floor. She was forced to take his arm for balance. “You’ll find your ship legs,” I heard him say to her as the door closed behind them.

“Tell me,” Hawke said once we were quite alone. He spanned both hands around my corseted waist, backing me slowly to the bed. “Tell me that I can have you until supper.” Mischief alight within my smile, I said innocently, “Will you help me find my ship legs?”

“And then once we touch down in America,” he replied, “we’ll work on finding your land legs.”

I grinned, unable to keep all my good feelings bottled up. It was, as far as I cared to have one, a promise—of future, of together. Not just with Hawke, but with Ashmore, Booth and Mrs.

Booth. Even with Levi, whose hunger for adventure would no doubt earn him great accolade. As the bed bumped against the back of my skirt, a hard knock thudded the door. Hawke stiffened, a flash of temper gathering at his brow, but he was given no opportunity to deny the intruder.

The door swung open, and Maddie Ruth popped her head in. Her wild curls frizzed about her gamine smile in windblown chaos. “My cabin is full to the brim with gossiping girls,” she announced. She slipped in, shutting the door behind her. “So I’ll stay with you, all right?” Hawke’s forehead bumped against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help myself. My laughter filled the cabin as the
Winsome Dove
gathered speed across the warm spring sky.

Maybe not everything would go so smoothly, but that was all right, too. I was used to peculiarities.

For the first time in as long as I could recall, I felt mistress of my own fate. That I required friends to support me was not a weakness.

Though we all bore scars of flesh and heart, carried the battered spirit that came with loves lost and consequences suffered, I was stronger with my friends and family than I could ever imagine being without them.

I supported them too.

Through thick and thin, eager for the adventures waiting for us in the new world we sailed to, we reached out together to embrace the future.