Rescued by the Viscount's Ring

Chapter One

New York Harbour—December 1889

Madeline Macooish was not one to use ugly language, even under her breath. Which did not mean she did not think of colourful words on occasion—on this occasion, to be precise.

No matter how she tried to outwit Bertrand Fenster, she could not. He trailed her like a pesky fly or a bad odour. Like a bout of hiccups that returned time after time.

Like a suitor intent on acquiring her grandfather’s fortune, which, of course, was exactly what he was. She ought to have known better than to be led astray—far astray—by the deceitful smile of a scoundrel.

Feeling his greedy gaze on her back, she spun about, glare at the ready.

All she saw were masts bobbing at anchor, along with red funnels spewing smoke and steam towards the mass of grey clouds stretching from the mouth of the Hudson to the eastern horizon.

Oh, but he was here. She’d felt his lurking presence on and off ever since she parted company with him in Chicago a few months ago.

She ought to be used to it by now, to not feel threatened by his secretive pursuit, but she would feel more at ease with an ocean between them.

Truly, what sort of false-hearted cad continued to trail his prey even when she had informed him, from the very beginning, no less, that she was no longer entitled to a fortune? Indeed, she had made it clear that in running off with him she had forfeited any money Grandfather would have given her.

And not because he would cut her off. No—he would never do that—but because she had betrayed him by running away and did not deserve one cent from that dear man.

Sadly, for all that she considered herself to be an excellent judge of character, she had fallen under the spell of the hoodwinker’s charm, had believed him to be sincere when he vowed his eternal devotion.

It was her own fault that she was in this situation. Had she been more level-headed she would not have run off, but married the man Grandfather had intended her to. That union would not have been the love match she had always dreamed of, but neither would she have been missing her family as desperately as she did now.

She had to conclude that love was blind, as the saying went. However, looking back on things, she now realised it had not been love she had felt, but rather infatuation.

Luckily she had come to learn that Bertrand was a bit dim in spite of his winning facade and handsome face.

The deep bellow of a ship’s horn thrummed over the harbour. Another answered.

Straightening her shoulders, Madeline gathered her smile and approached the ticket office. It was time to sail for Liverpool.

She had worked hard at odd jobs to earn the fare and had exactly enough money for a steerage ticket, but no more.

‘Good day,’ she said to the ticket master standing behind the window. ‘I’d like to book passage on the first ship going to Liverpool.’

‘That would be the Edwina, at dock right there across the road.’ He nodded towards the large, modern-looking vessel. ‘She’s sailing on the hour.’

Truly, that was rather perfect. It was unlikely that Bertrand would have time to follow her even if he did have the funds to do so.

‘Oh, that will do nicely.’

‘Will that be steerage, miss?’

Her plain but clean gown should have made that obvious. In the past when she had travelled with Grandfather her frilly gowns made it clear that she travelled first class, no matter the mode of transportation. This was bound to be a far different trip than any she had taken before.

She nodded, smiling. She was going to find Grandfather, to beg his forgiveness for what she had done to him. If need be, she would cross the ocean, sleeping on the deck. She missed him more than she could ever have imagined.

‘That will be thirty dollars.’

That much? Madeline gulped past the tight button on her collar. She withdrew the money from her purse, counted it out to the ticket master, knowing it would be two dollars short.

‘Oh, dear.’ She blinked at him, pressed her lips into a tight circle. ‘I must have lost... Oh, I was certain I had the full fare only an hour ago.’

‘There’s the Sea Minnow sailing next week. She’s a smaller vessel, but seaworthy. Her fare is only twenty-five.’

‘Oh, but my situation is urgent.’ She glanced over her shoulder, spotted Bertrand emerging from behind a stack of crates. ‘Is there perhaps something cheaper than steerage on the Edwina?’

‘I’m sorry, miss.’ He shook his head. She believed he did regret having to turn her away. He had a kind face and rather reminded her of Grandfather.

‘Sir, I can’t look back, but is there a tall, slim gentleman approaching?’

‘A dashing-looking fellow with a bit of a swagger to his walk?’

‘He’s not a bit dashing, but, yes, that is him. His attentions towards me are not welcome.’ Oh, good. The ticket master was frowning past her shoulder. ‘I must get to my grandfather.’

‘I don’t know how I can help you other than to summon a police officer.’

‘I can work off the two dollars once I’m on the ship.’ How close was Bertrand now? Any moment she expected to feel his skinny-fingered hand clamp about her elbow. ‘And my only luggage is this valise. I won’t need anything stored.’

‘Now that I see him closer, the fellow does look like a charlatan.’

‘Oh, he is—and how much closer?’

Swiftly, he wrote out a ticket and slid it towards her. ‘I’ve got a couple of dollars in my pocket.’

‘You are too kind, sir.’ She would have kissed his cheek, but there were bars across the window. Instead, she pressed her lips to her fingertips, then reached past the barrier and touched them to his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

‘Hurry now,’ he urged. ‘I’ll tell him you are taking the Sea Minnow.’

In spinning about she noticed that his name was Fenwick Stewart. She tucked the name in her memory because, somehow, she would repay the kind gentleman ten times over.

Now, she need only board the ship without having her rejected suitor know it.

All of a sudden, a gust of cold wind hit her back. It blew her skirts about and propelled her forward. She tucked her small valise securely into the crook of her arm. It would not do to lose the few possessions she had left in this world.

She dared a glance over her shoulder. Bertrand was at the ticket window. With his eyes off her for an instant, she ducked behind a stack of wood crates and crouched into a shadow. From here it would be a quick dash up the gangplank.

Footsteps tapped rapidly on the dock, coming in her direction. All at once, a young girl rounded the corner of her hiding place and crouched down. The poor child was crying, her face buried in her knees.

‘Hello,’ Madeline said because she could hardly ignore her presence. ‘Are you hiding, too? This is a rather nice spot for it.’

‘Please don’t give me away, miss.’

‘I’ll try not to, but who are you hiding from?’

‘Papa.’

This was tricky business. She could not keep the child’s whereabouts a secret from her parent.

‘I see. I’m hiding from a fortune hunter, just until I can get on the Edwina.’

As she suspected, that bit of information caught the child’s attention. Hopefully the fact that they were both hiding would form a bond between them and give Madeline some indication of how to proceed with this turn of events.

‘I’m supposed to get on the ship, too.’

Madeline scooted closer. ‘We are both in a bit of a pickle, it seems. Why don’t you want to go with your father?’

She hadn’t said so—quite—but it seemed clear that she did not want to.

‘I do.’ She turned red-rimmed eyes up at her, dabbed her nose on her sleeve. ‘But Mama isn’t going to Liverpool and I want to stay here with her.’

That was understandable. Had Madeline been lucky enough to have a mother, she would have done anything to remain with her. While Grandfather had done a loving job of raising both her and her cousin, Clementine, she had always longed for her mother. It didn’t matter that she had no clear memory of her.

‘Why isn’t your mother going with you?’

‘There wasn’t enough money for her ticket. Papa is going to send for her once he starts his new job in London. But I want to stay with Mama.’

‘Clara Lee Adelbackmore!’ a man’s voice shouted.

‘Clara!’ a woman’s voice echoed, but it sounded worried rather than stern.

‘You must be Clara?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Your parents are frightened. They don’t know you are only feet away. Surely they must be fearing all manner of horrid things to have happened to you.’

The same as Grandfather must be fearing for her. Shame for what she had done to that wonderful man made Madeline want to weep right along with Clara.

It would have been right and good to send Grandfather a wire letting him know she was safe, but she was not quite sure where to send it. He was no longer in Los Angeles, she did know that. London was where he might be. She could only guess that Clementine had been forced to marry the Earl of Fencroft in Madeline’s place. As desperately as she needed Grandfather’s forgiveness, she needed her cousin’s, as well.

In this case, a wire would not do. The magnitude of her misdeed called for an apology in the flesh. Had the prodigal son sent a note to his father, well, it would not have been right.

‘I’ll come out of hiding after Papa sails with my brothers.’

‘I doubt they will go, not with you missing. You should go along with what your father and mother planned. They purchased a ticket for you. You must use it.’

‘I won’t go without Mama.’

Of course, they could all make the trip together. And Madeline had a perfectly valid ticket gripped in her fist.

She could give it to the girl’s mother. It would mean remaining in New York until she earned enough money for another fare. It might take a very long time since she hadn’t many skills and she would also need funds to live on.

She desperately needed this ticket and should not part with it. But standing by when a child and her mother were about to be separated and knowing she could prevent it—that was a bit too much guilt to carry.

Madeline’s heart was far too heavy with regret as it was.

‘Come along.’ She stood up and reached her hand down to Clara. ‘Your parents are growing quite frantic. In a moment it will be the police looking for you.’

She shook her head. Her hat slipped off her mop of dark-brown curls.

‘It’s all right,’ she said with a smile which would appear sincere even though Madeline felt like weeping. ‘Your mother can have my ticket.’

‘But the fortune hunter!’ She sprang to her feet. ‘Won’t he catch you?’

‘No.’ She straightened the girl’s hat, adjusted the ribbons under the small, trembling chin. ‘I’m a good bit smarter than he is.’

Rees Dalton stood beside the Captain of the Edwina, smelling like coal, soot and sweat while silently observing passengers coming aboard over the wide gangplank.

‘Is there anything more specific you can tell me about what would constitute lax behaviour in the fire room, Captain Collier?’ All activity aboard the ship he had recently purchased was of vital importance to him, but the furnace area was critical when it came to the safety of everyone on board. ‘Anything at all that you might have forgotten to mention?’

‘No, my lord.’ The Captain rocked back slightly on the heels of his boots. ‘Your attention down there is paramount. As I said before, if the work is done incorrectly it could cause an explosion. I’ve heard of such things happening.’

‘While we are on board the ship, please remember to call me Rees, or Mr Dalton. I can hardly observe operations if my identity is discovered. I fear no one will act naturally in my presence.’

‘Not to be presumptuous, sir—Rees, that is—but might you not have hired a man to see to the job? It is hardly suitable for a man of your position.’

Rees shook his head while watching a family across the dock near the ticket office. There were six of them holding on to each other and looking distressed.

‘No. I cannot remain at my estate while the safety of passengers and crew aboard my ship is at issue. There are certain things a man must see to himself.’ But, in fact, he had hired a few men to secretly inspect the less-urgent areas of the ship’s operation. ‘May I borrow your spyglass, Captain?’

Rees took the offered telescope and focused the lens on the family. A girl of about twelve years was crying inconsolably and her parents and siblings were not faring much better.

‘It’s a common sight, Mr Dalton.’ The Captain tugged on his coat. The twin rows of polished brass buttons would be sparkling in the morning sunshine had there been any. ‘Often it’s too costly for all the family to make the crossing at one time. The father will go, then send for the rest when he is settled.’

‘I see,’ Rees muttered while scanning the dock for anything that might be out of place. ‘Is there not a family fare to prevent such a thing?’

He supposed he ought to know, but he was only recently a ship owner. There was more he did not know about the way things worked than what he did.

‘The previous owner didn’t offer it.’

Perhaps he ought to have. Mr McClure had gone bankrupt. It’s how Rees had been able to purchase the ship at a reasonable price.

From what he had learned of the situation, the man was more concerned with setting a record time for an Atlantic crossing than anything else. Apparently, there was fierce competition among ship owners to make the fastest crossing time.

McClure had put that before anything else. As a result, he had neglected the welfare of the passengers. Even the crew tended to be careless of their comfort. Word had spread and passengers booked more pleasant passage. Naturally the venture failed and he never did make the quickest time.

‘Tell me again, Captain, what might go wrong within the fire room.’

He’d heard it all before, but it still bore repeating.

People entrusted their well-being into his hands. While he hired fellows to see to some things, it was for Rees to monitor the most important ones.

It would be unconscionable for him to remain in Glenbrook while there was the smallest chance that a careless accident might cause harm to his passengers.

So far his watching had confirmed that McClure did not hire the most capable of men.

‘The heat needs to remain constant. Sudden cooling might damage a valve which could cause a furnace to explode. Watch for that, Lord Glenbrook, first of all.’ The Captain plucked at one of his coat buttons.

Rees nodded while he continued to scan the dock with the spyglass.

All the way from Liverpool he’d been posing as a fireman, working right alongside labourers in the boiler room. He had a fairly good idea now what hell must be like. Heat, sweat, filth and aching muscles—it was barely a fit job for a human, common born or not. Although he had come to see that there was nothing common about the men he worked beside.

Even though his muscles ached and sweat drenched him most of the time, he would continue the business of shovelling coal.

While he scanned the telescope across the ticket office on the other side of the road, a movement caught his eye. He focused the lens on a stack of barrels.

Yes! Just there a man crouched, peeking out from behind a barrel. Evidently he did not want to be seen.

He appeared to be watching a woman standing at the ticket counter. The lady glanced over her shoulder. She could not see the fellow from her vantage point.

What could he want with her? Clearly something was not as it should be.

With her ticket in hand, the woman turned from the ticket booth. The smile she had given the ticket master lingered on her face. For an instant, Rees forgot he was looking for careless employees because he was certain he had just glimpsed the face of an angel. Fair hair blew in fine whips from under her hat and her wide blue eyes sparkled even in the gloom of the cloudy morning—but it was her smile that captivated him. All the sweetness and innocence of the world were reflected on her lips.

But wait! The man emerged from behind the barrels an instant before the lady hurried away.

Rees was by nature a protector and he knew when someone needed protecting.

While the man spoke to the ticket master, the angel ducked behind a pile of wood crates. Seconds later, the child who had been weeping so desperately dashed away from her family. She ran behind the crates where the woman was hiding.

He switched his focus back to the man standing at the ticket office. The fellow slammed his fist on the counter, then glanced about before he spun on his heel and walked away.

A spyglass was an interesting device. Captain Collier must have seen all manner of interesting happenings over the years.

He was about to hand the glass back when the woman and the child came out from behind the crates, hand in hand.

The child was no longer crying, but rather grinning broadly. With the lens focused so closely, he clearly understood what was happening. The angel not only returned the girl to her parents, but pressed the ticket she had just purchased into the mother’s hand.

After a few quick hugs, the family hurried up the gangplank, laughing and looking joyful.

The lady who had just given up her ticket stood where she was, glancing about, her winglike brows pressed in thought.

What would she do now? Clearly she was not a lady of means who could simply purchase a new ticket.

A prosperous-looking family began to embark. So excited were they about boarding the great ship with her whistle blowing and her red stacks steaming, they took little note that the angel had joined them. She walked slightly behind, head bent and giving the appearance of being a servant to them.

He followed their progress with the glass. The family passed the fellow collecting tickets and stepped aboard. Smiling, with wisps of blonde hair streaking across her cheeks, the angel followed, but was prevented from boarding when the ticket collector blocked her way with his outthrust arm.

She had no ticket, after all. The employee was only doing his duty in forbidding her.

Still, he must have steel for a heart, being able to withstand her smiles as she gestured after the family who had no idea she had tried to filter in with them.

She made a motion with her hand, searched through her purse as if she should have a ticket, but where was it?

In the face of her pleading the employee stood firm.

‘Another one attempting to stow away,’ the Captain commented with a resigned sigh. ‘Although I’ve never seen a woman try it. I’ll send for someone to remove her.’

‘Allow her to board.’

‘I beg your pardon, Lord Glenbrook? The woman is as good as a thief.’

‘I must ask again that you call me Mr Dalton.’ Rees handed back the spyglass. ‘Escort the woman aboard.’

‘But—’

‘You will allow her to board.’

Rees groaned when the Captain presented a respectful dip of his head, then went off to do Rees’s bidding. What sort of captain showed deference to a labouring fireman? At this rate his identity would be revealed before they left port.

It was imperative that no one discover who he was. Disguised as a humble fireman he would be able to learn who in the furnace room was reliable and who might be putting his passengers at risk by negligent behaviour.

As difficult a thing it was, not being forthright about who he was, it would remain so. People had given him their fares, entrusted their safety into his care. No matter the discomfort he endured as Mr Dalton, fireman, he would deliver them safely across the Atlantic.

He remained where he was, watching while the woman boarded the ship with the Captain. He couldn’t see it from here without the glass, but he knew the smile she was bestowing on Collier would feel like one of those visions when the sun burst through clouds, casting its light in brilliant rays upon the earth.

Even if the Captain didn’t recognise it as such, it was the way Rees saw it and this was his ship. If he wanted to allow the woman passage, she would have it.

He only wondered if he would cross paths with her during the voyage.

It was better that he didn’t. Miss Bethany Mosemore waited for him in Glenbrook. Unless he could find a way out of it, she was going to become his wife. He had only recently discovered what a great mistake their union would be.

Madeline’s stomach growled rather loudly in complaint of missing both breakfast and the midday meal.

The main thing to keep in mind was that she had somehow managed to board the ship. She could only count her blessings for it.

Since that mysterious good fortune had befallen her, perhaps she would also find something to eat.

But where? This was a huge ship. She could search half the day and not find the steerage dining room.

It would shorten the process if she asked someone, but who?

Everyone seemed to be in a rush. Her fellow passengers were absorbed in the task of settling into their quarters. The ones who were not leaned over the rail, watching while the ship pulled away from the dock.

Asking a crew member for directions to the dining room was out of the question. Those busy people buzzed about, each of them occupied in getting the ship underway.

She could hardly put the state of her appetite ahead of that.

‘You will simply have to wait,’ she muttered, listening to the growling protest her stomach raised.

‘Is there something I can do to assist you, miss?’ asked a masculine voice from behind her—close behind her.

In fact, half a mile would be too close behind her. The man’s voice had a resonance to it that made her heart beat faster. She did not want her heart to beat faster.

Had she learned nothing from Bertrand Fenster?

Well, ignoring the fellow would be rude and in fact she did need help. With any luck—and she’d had a bit of it so far—the fellow did not look the way his voice indicated he would.

Perhaps when she turned about she would find an elderly, grandfatherly gentleman offering aid.

Comforted by the hope, she pivoted about.

Luck had quite clearly deserted her, leaving her to gaze into the bluest eyes she had ever seen, abandoning her to stare at a smile that quirked with laughter and—and never mind what else it quirked with. She would not have her head turned by a quirk again.

‘I imagine you are hungry,’ he stated.

How could he possibly imagine such a thing? And why was he looking at her with an air of familiarity?

‘Somewhat hungry,’ she admitted because he wore a crewman’s uniform and would be able to direct her to the closest place to obtain a meal.

‘The dining room is that way...’ He lifted his arm and pointed past her shoulder. ‘Just three doors down. If I’m not mistaken, there is scent of fresh bread to lead the way.’

Perhaps there was, but there was also the masculine scent of this man which was suddenly more appealing than bread.

But bread, yes, she was hungry. ‘Thank you, sir.’

She nodded, then turned, feeling the slight vibration of the ship under her shoes as she walked towards the dining room.

Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, she glanced over her shoulder because could a man really be that handsome?

Oh, well, yes, he could.

Chapter Two

‘I,