Page 2 of Discovering Dahlia (The Blue Orchid Society #5)

One year later

Dahlia hurried through the ship’s dining room, confirming the tablecloths were wrinkle free and vases of fresh flowers were set. She continued on toward the stern and into the saloon, scanning the room and finding sparkling windows, a stocked bookshelf and bar, dusted surfaces, and pillows fluffed in the corners of sofas, just as she’d instructed. The SS Aurora ’s staff really was exceptional. She straightened an already straight picture frame and tugged a drape pleat into place, wishing she had time to inspect each of the cabins.

She wasn’t nervous per se, but she was anxious that this cruise be a success. The future of the Paragon Line depended upon it. And the passengers, the elite of London Society, were notoriously difficult to please. This past year of snubs from former friends and rescinded invitations had only reinforced that knowledge. Dahlia was already an outcast among those she’d formerly associated with, but if this expedition failed to impress, her business would be eschewed as well.

Pushing open the door to the main deck, she found her assistant, Victor Vandelay, leaning against the rail, writing in a notebook. He was, as always, dressed fashionably in coordinated waistcoat and trousers of a plaid design, an impeccably tied neckcloth, and highly polished shoes. Seeing him gave reassurance. Victor was incredibly competent at his job, efficient and unruffled, even in the most taxing circumstances. Dahlia had come to value him as more than an assistant; he was a trusted confidant and friend.

She greeted him, resting a hand on the rail beside him and looking out at the view of the Royal Navy College beyond Greenwich Park. Turning her gaze downward to the docks, she could see carriages arriving and trunks being unloaded. The time had come. She took a steadying breath and started toward the bow, where the gangway was attached to the dock. Captain Carmichael was already there, waiting to greet the passengers as they embarked. With him were some of the senior officers as well as the pilot, Mr. Webster, who would see the ship safely through the Channel. Captain Carmichael hadn’t liked veering from the typical course of launching in Liverpool, but this was not a typical journey. And since all of the passengers would already be in London after the parliamentary session had ended a few days earlier, Dahlia had wanted the cruise to begin there. Besides, she thought it good for publicity. The impressive sight of a brand-new ocean liner in the Thames had brought a steady stream of admirers to the dockyard. Upon their return, she would open the ship for tours.

Victor snapped the notebook shut, falling into step beside her. “Miss Lancaster, there is a”—he cleared his throat—“small change in the passenger list.”

Something in the way he spoke gave her pause. Victor was never unsure about anything.

“I trust you can manage a late adjustment in the berthing assignments without the need to bring it to my attention,” Dahlia said, watching her assistant carefully.

“It is more significant than that,” he said. “I did not want to tell you too soon and have you worry, but I fear I have left it too late, and now...”

“Out with it,” Dahlia ordered. “What haven’t you told me?”

Victor looked toward the dock and then back at her, letting out a breath. “Lord and Lady Ruben will be joining the cruise.” He winced.

Dahlia’s stomach turned to ice. She had seen Ruben and Lorene only a very few times since the marquess’s ball a year earlier, and they had never spoken more than a stiff greeting to her. The thought of the pair of them here, together... She reached to grab the rail, but stopped, holding her hand fisted at her side and raising her chin. This was not the time for uncertainty. “How did this happen?” Her voice came out sharper than she’d intended. “They were not invited.”

“His agent contacted the office last week,” Victor said. “Insisted His Lordship’s invitation must have been misplaced and requested a new one.”

Why would he want to come? Dahlia almost asked the question aloud but stopped herself. She knew the answer. In addition to her dearest friends, high-ranking government officials, select members of the aristocracy, and noble families had all been invited for the SS Aurora ’s inaugural cruise. The passengers were an exclusive few. And Ruben hated to be excluded from anything, let alone such a private and modish event.

“A man of Lord Ruben’s standing is hardly the type one refuses,” Victor continued. “I feared it would only cast a shadow over the Paragon Line if his request for passage was declined. The last thing we want is negative publicity.”

“Of course. You did the right thing,” Dahlia said, hearing the words as if someone else were speaking them. She felt unsteady on her feet, and it had nothing to do with the waves of the Thames beneath her. “Lord and Lady Ruben are naturally welcome. And their patronage will only be an asset to the prestige of the ship.”

“I assigned them to the Emerald Suite,” he said, opening his book and looking relieved to be discussing business matters once again.

“Not the Sapphire?” Dahlia asked.

“The Duchess of Dorchester will be in the Sapphire,” Victor said. “And, of course, Lady Mather and her friends will remain in the Pearl. I spoke to Mr. Yeates already. He and Mrs. Yeates are transferring their things to an interior cabin.”

Now it was Dahlia’s turn to wince. Her cousin and vice president of Lancaster Steam Sailing and Shipping Limited had been quite keen on traveling in one of the four outboard suites. He and his wife, Kathryn, had come aboard hours ago to establish themselves in the Emerald Suite and make ready to welcome the guests. “Mr. and Mrs. Yeates can relocate to my cabin,” Dahlia said.

Victor shook his head. “It would hardly do for the company’s president to take a lower berth. You have a reputation to uphold. You cannot make way for a man of lower position simply because it is the polite thing to do. You must be seen entering and exiting the Diamond Suite if you wish to be taken seriously as a woman and a business owner.” His expression was serious. “You are laying the path.”

Dahlia sighed. Victor had said similar things before. He had a vision of the future that was quite different from her own, seeing women in all positions of government and as leaders of industry. She considered herself an anomaly, knowing most fathers would prefer to leave their estates to sons or other male heirs. The world of business was for men, and Dahlia had struggled for over a year to be heard, let alone be taken seriously by bankers, shipbuilders, cargo masters, coal mine owners, and practically every man she’d had professional dealings with. Her colleagues had acted as though Dahlia were nothing more than a novelty. A foible of an eccentric father. And they treated her as such. Most preferred to do business directly with Victor, but he had consistently deferred to her. He had told her again and again that if she were to maintain the respect of both her associates and subordinates, she needed to act like a leader, no matter how uncomfortable it made her.

“I do feel selfish,” Dahlia said, still unsettled by the berthing reassignments. “I am only one person, and to enjoy the finest cabin on the ship—”

“You own the ship,” Victor reminded her. He turned her around by the shoulders, pointing her gaze upward to the sailyards and the steam funnels between them. “Look at this; look at what you have created. If not for your vision to expand your father’s cargo shipping company, this glorious vessel would be resigned to a life of ferrying tea, spices, and cotton. Leisurely sea travel is a revolutionary idea. A brilliant idea. And it was your idea. The Paragon Line is all your doing, and this ship is only the beginning. Here, you are in charge—the highest in the chain of command. Do not forget that. And do not allow Lord Ruben or Mr. Yeates or any person to make you believe that you are any less or that you deserve any less.”

Dahlia looked back at Victor, giving him a grateful smile and crossing her arms to pat his hands where they sat on her shoulders. “Thank you. I needed that.” She breathed in and slowly out, then took a step away, turning to continue toward Captain Carmichael, Victor following, but she paused as a flash of red caught her eye. Ruben had just alighted from his carriage, the evening sun making the ruby pin in his necktie sparkle. He glanced up, his gaze meeting Dahlia’s for just an instant before she turned away. She touched the brooch at her neck, a painted blue orchid surrounded by fillagree silver, taking strength from the reassurance that her own friends would be on the ship as well. Ruben couldn’t hurt her anymore. Especially with the Blue Orchid Society in attendance.

Dahlia scanned the crowd for the four women who had become her dear comrades, her mind traveling back to that night in the Marquess of Molyneaux’s library when she’d thought her world had ended. But what she’d found was so much more than what she’d lost. Sophie, Vivian, Hazel, and Elizabeth had become dearer to Dahlia than friends who shared gossip and shopping excursions. They were a source of strength, of encouragement, a sisterhood.

She was disappointed not to see any Blue Orchid Society members down on the dock. But they would be along soon enough. She and Victor continued on across the deck to where the gangway met the rail.

As they approached the captain, Victor signaled to a group of musicians in custom livery who began playing the ship’s anthem, a signal for the boarding to commence.

Captain Carmichael was a large man, broad through the chest with a thick gray mustache that he’d waxed into a point on either side of his mouth. He greeted Dahlia with a nod. “Miss Lancaster.”

Dahlia nodded back. She was pleased with her selection of captain. Not only had he sailed with the company for years, but he was well-liked and respected among crew and passengers, a trait Dahlia considered nearly as important as his impeccable record.

She greeted Mr. Webster, who politely took his leave to join the officers on the bridge.

The purser, Mr. Bryce, moved to stand with Victor. The pair of them were responsible for distributing room assignments, keys, and deck plans. Stewards stood at the ready to escort passengers to their quarters and assist servants with luggage.

Through the wrought-iron railings, Dahlia could see the first passengers making their way over the suspended slats of the gangway. Large nets were extended on either side for safety, but the travelers still walked carefully. As they drew closer, Dahlia smiled, recognizing the three elderly women making their way over the hanging bridge: Mrs. Griffin, Lady Chatsworth, whose grandson was engaged to Elizabeth, and Sophie’s grandmother, the Dowager Lady Mather, whom her friends called Mimi.

The ladies were of an age when most would be more at home in a drawing room with their feet up and sipping a cup of tea. But not these three. Intelligent, broad-minded, and very eccentric, they were always willing to have an adventure.

When Mimi reached the top of the gangway, she took hold of the railing with one hand and Captain Carmichael’s offered hand with the other to step onto the deck. She was grinning. “Gracious, wasn’t that exciting?” She looked back at her companions.

Mrs. Griffin was directly behind her. The woman was a bit more frail and used a walking stick, placing it carefully on the slats and holding tightly to the rope running alongside the gangway. A nervous-looking maid followed, holding out her own hands, ready to catch the older woman should she slip. In spite of her slow process, Mrs. Griffin grinned as well.

Mimi kissed Dahlia’s cheeks. “It is lovely to see you, my dear, and here, in your element.” She gazed over the deck, lifting her eyes to admire the steam funnels. “The ship is absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Dahlia said, knowing Mimi did not give out unwarranted compliments.

Mrs. Griffin took the captain’s hand, handed her walking stick to the maid, and grabbed on to the railing before taking the last uneven step. The maid followed.

Lady Chatsworth completed the trio, gracefully stepping onto the deck to join her friends. “My dear Miss Lancaster,” she said, holding out a hand to greet Dahlia. “Your invitation was very welcome.”

“Wasn’t it?” Mrs. Griffin said. “It has been such a hot summer. A sailing expedition is just the thing.” She turned to look over the railing. “Goodness, what a drop!”

“I am so delighted you could all join us,” Dahlia said, determined not to glance behind the ladies to where Ruben and Lorene were crossing the gangway behind the lady’s maids carrying travel bags and footmen bearing the older women’s trunks.

“Allow me to introduce you to the ship’s captain.”

Captain Carmichael was charming, greeting the elderly women with a charisma that bordered on flirting.

The older women were thrilled by his attentions, and even more so when he invited them to join him at the Captain’s Table for tea and biscuits later that evening.

Ruben and Lorene had reached the end of the gangway, but Dahlia ignored them. She would not be rushed on their account. She introduced the older women to Victor and the purser, who were already directing the servants toward the lower decks. Mr. Bryce gave the women the key to the Pearl Suite, and Victor waved over a steward to accompany them and direct the servants.

Now there was nothing to do but face Ruben and Lorene, but Dahlia was not ready. “Oh yes,” she called after Mimi and her friends. “You must have your photographs taken.” She pointed portside to where a photographer had arranged a backdrop with the ship’s name. Dahlia had been especially pleased with that idea once she’d thought of it. She’d converted a lower, windowless berth into a photography studio, where the photos could be processed during the cruise, giving the passengers a souvenir to take home.

The women happily crossed to the photographer, and having no other excuse to avoid Lord and Lady Ruben, Dahlia steadied her nerves and turned back to join the captain, who was already speaking with them.

Dahlia hoped her expression would not betray the tumult she felt within. “Lord and Lady Ruben, welcome aboard.” Dahlia met their gazes only briefly. Then, seeing Victor approach, she took a step back, motioning toward him. “My assistant, Mr. Vandelay, will answer any questions you have.” She turned toward the next guests, but Ruben would not be dismissed.

“Miss Lancaster,” he said in a booming voice, as if they were long-lost friends. He took her hand, kissing the air above it. “You must give us a tour of your boat.”

“Ship,” Dahlia snapped before she could stop herself, pulling her hand away. She knew he was trying to get a reaction and wished she hadn’t risen to the bait. Ruben had a way of making people feel small. Why hadn’t she noticed it when they were together?

“It is a beautiful ship ,” Ruben said, undeterred. “Isn’t it, darling?” He glanced at Lorene, but not long enough for her to respond. “A beautiful ship for a beautiful woman.”

“Excuse me,” Dahlia said. She crossed the deck to join Mimi and her friends and spent a few moments looking busy, arranging the women into a pose and stepping back to look through the camera, as if she had any idea how photography worked.

“He’s gone now.” Mimi motioned with her chin over Dahlia’s shoulder to where Ruben and Lorene had been.

“Thank you.” Dahlia breathed out a breath that was much heavier than she’d intended.

More guests arrived, and she and the captain settled into a routine, he helping the ladies board, she making introductions. Each of the passengers was a member of a class that had all but abandoned Dahlia when Lord Ruben had publicly jilted her. Many of the introductions were accompanied by awkward small talk, but the fact that they were here at all was a testament to her innovation, and her pride over the company she’d grown and the ship in which they stood gave her confidence.

At last, the members of the Blue Orchid Society arrived. They must have arranged to meet so they could come on board together. Dahlia’s spirits lifted at the sight of her friends. These were the people she truly wanted to share this experience with. All the other passengers were ancillary.

Lady Sophronia Graham came aboard first and wrapped Dahlia in an embrace. “I am so glad to be here!” She glanced at the passengers on the deck. The breeze blew chestnut-colored curls over her face, and she shook them away with a jerk of her head. “Has my grandmother arrived already?”

Dahlia nodded. “First aboard, actually.”

Sophie groaned. “I wish she would have waited. I told her we would help.” She intensified eye contact and shook her head in exasperation. “When we are that age, will we be so very independent as to not accept assistance?”

“I can guarantee you will.” Sophie’s husband, Inspector Jonathan Graham of the London Metropolitan Police, joined her, tipping his hat and greeting Dahlia. Jonathan wore his usual dark jacket and trousers with a misshapen fob hanging from the pocket watch on his waistcoat. Sophie had told Dahlia the lump of metal was a bullet, but she hadn’t shared the story of why her husband had kept it. Perhaps Dahlia would find a moment to inquire during the cruise.

Sophie took Jonathan’s arm and Dahlia introduced the pair to the captain.

Vivian, Lady Covington, arrived next. Her embrace was warm, but she seemed distracted, as she often was, with her mind constantly calculating. At this moment, her gaze was moving over the complicated system of rigging attached to the ship’s spars and sails.

Her husband, Lord Covington, was called Benedict by his friends. He smiled brightly, greeting Dahlia with a tip of his hat as Jonathan had done, and motioned at the ship. “Dahlia, this is wonderful.”

“Thank you.” She smiled back, pleased by his reaction. Benedict had traveled widely, spending years in Asia before meeting Vivian. Dahlia was glad he could be impressed by the ship after having spent so much time at sea.

She turned to introduce the couple to the captain, but upon seeing his uniform, Vivian spoke to him before Dahlia had the chance to say anything. “The ship has a four-cylinder steam reciprocating compound engine?” she asked. “And I imagine... ten boilers?”

“Twelve,” Captain Carmichael said, beaming. “You must be Lady Covington.” He tipped his head toward Dahlia as he reached for Vivan’s hand. “I’ve been told by Miss Lancaster that you’ll be wantin’ to see the equipment up close. And there’s a complete copy of the ship’s building and engineering plans awaiting you in your cabin.”

Vivian gave a satisfied nod, and Dahlia introduced the captain to Benedict.

Hazel Thornton and her fiancé, Dr. Jim Jackson, came aboard next. Hazel grabbed on to his arm, looking unsteady on her feet with the slight rocking of the boat. “It has been a while since I’ve sailed,” she said to Dahlia, with a blush coloring her face. Regaining her feet, she kissed Dahlia’s cheek. “Thank you so much for the invitation,” she said in her soft voice. “Jim and I are just delighted about the prospect of an ocean holiday.”

Dahlia greeted Jim and introduced him to the captain.

When he heard Jim’s title, Captain Carmichael’s brow rose. “A doctor, eh? Spent any time in a ship’s infirmary?”

“Not by choice,” Jim said. “Yellow fever on a voyage between Dubrovnik and Barcelona. A short bout, fortunately.”

Hearing him speak, the captain’s other brow rose. “American, are you? Well, I’ll not hold it against you. I’m grateful for all the medical assistance I can get.”

“Oh?” Hazel asked. “Are there many injuries aboard? Illnesses?”

“This is Hazel Thornton, Captain,” Dahlia said by way of explanation. “She’s a nurse.”

“Pleased to have you, Miss Thornton,” Captain Carmichael said. “And, to answer your question, yes to both. There is, of course, the occasional accident, and once in a while a person contracts a fever or a cough or some such. But the more pressing concern is mal de mer . One never knows how landlubbers will react to sea travel. Some will only be a bit irritable for an hour before getting their sea legs. Others will be pale, sweating, and vomiting for days.”

“That sounds completely terrible,” a familiar voice said. “I’d recommend against using that sentence in your advertising brochure, cousin.”

Dahlia turned and found Elizabeth Miller listening to the conversation with a look of disgust. “Thank you for that excellent advice,” Dahlia replied dryly, then smirked, bringing her cousin into an embrace. Charles, Lord Chatsworth, Elizabeth’s fiancé, was with her, and Dahlia gave him a smile, inclining her head. “Your grandmother came aboard an hour ago, Charles,” she said.

“I imagine she’s already up to mischief of some type or other,” he replied, giving one of his famous flashing smiles and running the side of his finger over his mustache. “We’ll find her soon enough, wherever the action is.”

Charles and Elizabeth met the captain, and before Vivian could return to interrogating him about gross tonnage or something of that sort, Dahlia took the opportunity to bring her friends together for a photograph.

The men waited while the Blue Orchid Society posed in front of the backdrop. Dahlia stood in the center with two of her friends on either side, their arms linked. Any last feelings of inadequacy brought on by Lord Ruben dissipated. With these women by her side, Dahlia felt invincible.

Seeing that the Duchess of Dorchester had arrived, Dahlia excused herself. As she introduced Captain Carmichael to Her Grace and her traveling companion, Miss Albright, Dahlia saw her friends each pose for the photographer with their partner. A few moments later, she watched them leave with stewards to find their cabins. Seeing the four couples walking arm in arm, her warm feelings were mixed with bittersweet nostalgia for the way they were before, when it was just the five of them. She was happy for her friends, happy they had found such worthy companions, but loneliness was heavy in her chest, surprising her.

She looked away, swallowing against the lump that rose in her throat, and reminding herself that there was a good reason she was alone. Since Ruben’s betrayal, she had vowed never to trust a man again. And now that she was the president of her own company, her conviction was even stronger. She could never be certain that a man was interested in her and not in Lancaster Steam Sailing and Shipping Limited. Marrying into a thriving enterprise was too tempting for a gentleman, and she could never be certain whether affection for her would be genuine or simply an act to obtain the company. She needed nothing from marriage, so she was resigned. The loneliness would pass. And that part of her that still believed in true love, that wished to be swept off her feet by a romantic hero, was nothing short of silly.

Dahlia wiped at her eyes and spun around, intending to return to the business of greeting passengers, but her forward momentum propelled her directly into the wall of a man’s chest, and she lost her footing. Arms went around her, holding tight to keep her from falling.

“Steady on, Miss Lancaster.”

Dahlia grabbed on to his arms as her feet slipped on the deck. She knew the voice, and comfort flooded through her at the sound of Lord Meredith’s voice. The initial reaction was tempered when her mind caught up with her. Meredith was Ruben’s close friend. And as such, he was no longer a person she could trust.