Page 63 of My Fair Lord

“You’ve been worried since coming on board, I know, and yesterday Mr Blake told me he had to help you. If you’re in trouble I want to help too.”

Dottie looked mortified. “Mr Blake was such a gentleman. He said he wouldn’t tell you.”

“He didn’t,” Florence said hastily. “I found his handkerchief in the sewing basket and asked him why you had it. He still wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Dottie looked uncertain, so Florence nodded encouragingly.

“I promise there’s nothing to be worried about. I won’t judge you. You know I try to be fair.”

Dottie’s lip wobbled. “I did something really foolish. You see I have a brooch that my great aunt Dolly left me in her will. I didn’t think it was worth much but then I got talking to one of the valets of a gentleman in second class and he told me it was worth quite a bit and he could get it valued for me, and so I gave it to him, but then he denied all knowledge. Mr Blake found me crying and I didn’t want to tell him, honestly, miss, but he has a way about him that just invites you to share confidences, doesn’t he?”

The words were a jumble and afterwards Dottie heaved a sigh of relief, or perhaps it was just to refill her lungs after talking without inhaling for so long.

“Yes, he does,” Florence said thoughtfully.

“I don’t know what Mr Blake said to him because, lo and behold, he brought it straight back to me yesterday morning and apologised for ever bothering me. Mr Agosti, I mean, not Mr Blake.”

“I see.” Florence very much did, filing away the miscreant’s name in case she needed to take further retribution on Dottie’s behalf. She doubted she would need to if Ned had become involved, and she also doubted the brooch had been given straight back willingly. Carver Clarke’s ruined face swam before her eyes.

“And you have no idea what Mr Blake said to him? Or did?” she added as an afterthought.

Dottie looked worried. “Did I do the wrong thing? I wasn’t going to mention it at all. Mr Blake asked me so nicely, as if he really cared why I was upset, and I didn’t want to refuse to speak to him.”

“You did nothing wrong in telling him,” Florence said quietly. She had made a huge error in her assumptions and how she had handled them. The back of her neck was starting to prickle with embarrassment. Ned had been playing the knight in shining armour for Dottie. She realised she was clenching her jaw and made an effort to loosen it. There was no reason why he shouldn’t, but all the same it rankled slightly to think that while she had believed him laid low with seasickness, he had been doing…

Well, that was the trouble, wasn’t it. She had no idea what exactly he had done to retrieve Dottie’s brooch. She needed to get to the bottom of the matter, and the sooner the better.

She patted Dottie’s hand.

“Dottie, in future don’t give away anything important to somebody you have barely met.” She bit the inside of her lip. “And make sure you always have your own handkerchief.”

“Yes, Miss.” Dottie curtsied.

“I think I’ll go for a stroll on deck. Please can you fetch my hat and the cape edged with rabbit fur,” Florence asked.

Once she was dressed for the breeze, Florence left Dottie casting her expert eyes over the green dress. She did go for a stroll but instead of making her way to the deck, she descended a floor and made her way straight to Ned’s cabin.

ChapterEighteen

“Miss Wakechild, good morning.”

Ned didn’t look too pleased to see Florence after their quarrel the previous day and the first stirrings of doubt flustered her. His ire had been entirely justified, given what she had accused him of. She was aware that she owed him an apology for her accusation, but that could wait until later. She would reserve her judgement until she had discovered exactly how he had retrieved Dottie’s brooch.

He opened the door a little further and gestured down at himself.

“I’m afraid you’ve surprised me in a state of undress. Please give me a few moments to make myself presentable.”

He was dressed in shirtsleeves, with his waistcoat open, as were the top two buttons of his shirt. She couldn’t stop looking at the hollow of his throat, which was usually concealed beneath the high collar and necktie, and the curvature of his clavicle. He was unshaven and somehow the stubble that covered his cheeks and chin only made him look more attractive.

She realized that she had been staring for too long, so quickly averted her gaze to the floor. She felt embarrassed by her own reaction, but Ned seemed oblivious to it.

“Don’t worry about that,” she said briskly, walking into the room. “I need to speak to you now. I don’t care what state you’re in.”

“What did you need to talk about?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“Are you feeling ill again?” She narrowed her eyes. “Or have you been engaging in another fight?”

“Excuse me?” Ned blinked and took a step back. His mouth twisted. “I thought you might have come to apologise for your accusations, but I see I was wrong. You’re here with more unfounded accusations.”