The Ice Captain's Daughter (10 page)

“Miss Roring cannot be a particular friend of Miss Watkins if she is just arrived to town. Besides which, since it was Miss Watkins who broke off our engagement, she can have nothing ill to say about my behavior to poison the well.”

Jillian’s feelings were tied in knots. What had brought Logan back to London, after he claimed he had no business here? His expression and manner upon their meeting had given her no clue whatsoever.
Perhaps he wishes to renew his offer to Sophia after all. If so, she does not deserve him.

Sophia urged her pony closer to Jillian’s, so their conversation could not easily be overheard. “I was engaged to Mr. Logan briefly, last Season.”

Jillian feigned surprise. “Were you?”

“Mr. Logan is a heartless, incorrigible rake.”

Started, Jillian gave Sophia a sharp look. “I don’t know him at all, of course, but he appears to be gentlemanly.”

“Appearances don’t always tell the whole story. I would ordinarily say nothing, but since you seem quite taken with him, I would not be a good friend if I didn’t warn you.” Jillian felt her face grow hot. “If my behavior just now indicated I was taken with Mr. Logan, I am mortified!”

“Oh, it was obvious only to me, I assure you.”

Jillian and Sophia rode on for a few moments in silence.

“Well…what leads you to say Mr. Logan is a rake?” Jillian asked finally.

“See? I knew you were taken with him.”

“I am
not
taken with him! We’ve only just met!”

“Mr. Logan seizes every opportunity to maneuver pretty girls into dark corners and empty rooms to take liberties with them.”

In response, Jillian gasped. “No!”

“And
that
is why I broke our engagement.”

Jillian’s hands trembled. Could Sophia be speaking the truth?

“I-I’m…shocked.”

“Any girl wed to Mr. Logan can expect to have a loveless marriage.”

“Surely not.”

“Which is why I mean to secure him as soon as possible.”

Jillian gulped. “What did you say?”

“I’ve had a change of heart. Since I refused Mr. Logan, I’ve had months to contemplate my future. I finally realized love has nothing to do with marriage.”

“That’s what my aunt says, too.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“It’s just that, well, I mean to marry for love.”

“Then for pity’s sake, steer clear of Mr. Logan before he sullies your reputation. A misstep would prove fatal to your chances to make a good match.”

“But
you
mean to marry him, Sophia. What of
your
reputation?”

“My reputation is well guarded. You, my dear friend, are a new, fresh face. Mrs. Adams told me of your background. Although you have a vast fortune, you’ve no powerful connections to recommend you.”

“My mother was the daughter of a gentleman!”

“Oh, you’re a dear sweet thing, aren’t you?
Every
girl who circulates in society is at least the daughter of a gentleman.”

“M-My uncle has been knighted.”

Sophia gave her a sidelong glance. “Oh, Jillian, I could throw a rock and hit half a dozen gentlemen of the knighthood right now.” She paused. “I give you leave to like Mr. Hawkins. Of him, I have nothing ill to say.”

Speechless, Jillian stared straight ahead. She’d begun her ride on Rotten Row cheerful and joyous. Now, however, she felt belittled and insignificant. Preoccupied and unsettled, the remainder of the afternoon’s ride flew by in a blur. Sophia introduced her to several more gentlemen and a score of ladies, but a sudden, lancing headache made it difficult for Jillian to remember every name.

Sophia’s accusation toward Logan disturbed her more than she cared to admit. The man had always acted in a gentlemanly manner in Jillian’s presence, but the fact of the broken engagement seemed to support Sophia’s assertion. Jillian thought back to that moment in the Idunn Court library when his hand had brushed hers. If Logan had leaned in to kiss her just then, she would have let him. No, she would have
welcomed
it—but he had not. Yet according to Sophia, he’d been claiming kisses freely all over London. Jillian could only conclude Logan did not find her attractive enough to bother. Perhaps next to Sophia’s vibrant beauty, she suffered by comparison.

So Mr. Logan, with his wicked Gypsy eyes, is fond of ruining reputations is he?
He may deserve Sophia after all.

After debating whether or not to dine that evening at The Athenaeum or Boodle’s, Logan and Hawkins wound up at White’s. While relaxing after dinner with a brandy, Logan suffered through some good-natured ribbing from his circle of friends about his broken engagement.

“It’s well and good you’ve come back to town, Logan,” said Lord Yardley. “Watching the ladies vie for your attention has always been amusing. Now that you’re available again, this Season should be the most contentious ever.”

Sir James laughed. “Having Miss Watkins slip through your fingers was a hard blow indeed. You must score a triumph to reclaim your dignity.”

“I know just the thing!” Nelson exclaimed. “I happened across Miss Watkins as she was riding on Rotten Row this afternoon. She had a most beautiful companion…whose name I cannot now recall.”

“Miss Roring,” Hawkins supplied.

“That’s it!” Nelson said. “Whoever manages to win
her
favor will be a fortunate man indeed.”

“Yes, I met her today as well,” Sir James said. “I was instantly smitten.”

“As was I,” Hawkins said. “I believe Miss Roring may be sweet Bianca to Miss Watkins’s Katherina.”

“If you wish to set Logan on her, Nelson, I’m afraid he will have some competition from me!” Sir James said.

“And me,” Hawkins said.

“What good sport!” exclaimed Nelson. “Even money on Logan.”

Logan frowned. “Now see here! I refuse to be part of any wager where Miss Roring is concerned.”

Sir James gave Logan a sly glance. “Has Miss Watkins turned our prize stallion into a gelding?”

Boisterous laughter, lubricated by wine and spirits, filled the room.

“Not in the least,” Logan said when the din ebbed. “It just that Miss Roring is a lady worth more than any wager.”

“Oh, ho! You speak as if you know her, Logan. Is she a woman of title or property?” Sir James asked.

“My introduction to Miss Roring today was brief, as Hawkins will attest,” Logan said. “As to her lineage or property, I cannot speak.”
Or rather, I will not speak.

“Dash it all,” Sir James said.

“What are you going on about, Sir James?” Hawkins said. “Since you have both lineage and property, you can afford to marry for less material considerations.”

“True, but there’s the additional question of the girl’s reputation,” Sir James replied.

“It will all come out in due course, but Miss Roring seems quite properly demure,” Hawkins said.

Nelson raised his glass in a toast. “Gentlemen, I sense a competition heating up. Here’s to the courtship of Miss Roring…May the best chap prevail!”

As their friends and acquaintances drank, Logan and Hawkins exchanged a rueful glance.

“What did I say to provoke such rivalry?” Logan asked.

“You waved a red flag in front of a field of bulls, I’m afraid,” Hawkins replied.

“Blast it.”

George emerged from the Red Star Line ticket office and headed down the wharf with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Frustrated, he kicked at a pebble. How was he going to break the news to his sister they couldn’t leave for America until July? Worse, how were they to pay for their lodgings at that fancy bed and breakfast for two more months? They’d just have to sell those gold earbobs and hatpin Betsy had been so jealously guarding.

When he reached the sidewalk, George glanced over to discover Sam Netherby was walking straight toward him. As if George had shouted out his name, Sam’s head jerked up. When he recognized George, Sam’s eyes widened, and then narrowed in anger.

“Oh,
bollocks!”
George muttered.

He darted across the street with Sam in pursuit. As he ducked into an alley, he narrowly missed a horse and carriage rolling past. Fortunately, the rig delayed Sam long enough for George to make a clean getaway. He zigzagged his way south and west for fifteen minutes until he was sure he’d lost Sam altogether. Breathing hard, George slowed into a stroll, wiped his brow, and straightened his new clothes. He’d reached a nicer part of Liverpool and didn’t want to be stopped by coppers or mistaken for a scoundrel.

Betsy was sitting next to the window, knitting, when he entered their room. A look of anxiety crossed her face when she saw his disheveled state.

“What’s wrong?”

George tossed his bowler hat onto the bed and flopped into a chair.

“I saw Sam.”

She gasped. “What happened?”

“I ran, of course. I don’t think he trailed me here, but he won’t stop scourin’ Liverpool until he finds us.”

“Did ye get the tickets?”

“There’s nothin’ but first class tickets left on the
S/S Belgenland
, Betsy. We can’t afford two, and the next ship won’t leave till July.”

Betsy’s eyes filled with tears.

“Now, lass, let’s have none of that.” He leaned forward. “Here’s what we’re goin’ ter do. I’m goin’ back ter the ticket office and buy ye first class passage to Philadelphia. The ship leaves in a few days and we can hide from Sam until then.”

“But, George, what about ye?”

“Ach, I’d only weigh ye down, Betsy. Here ye are, lookin’ all fine, like a real lady. Even in this new suit, I can’t pass for a flash toff.”

“Georgie, we were goin’ ter stick together!”

“Truth be told, darlin’, I never wanted to leave England. Don’t worry about me. I’ll go back ter the East End and make my way somehow. Maybe I really will take ter the stage. Ye can write ter me when ye get settled in America…if ye ever learn to write.”

With a wink and a nod, George reached out his hand to his sister. Crying, Betsy grasped his hand as if she would never let it go.