Page 6 of Discovering Dahlia (The Blue Orchid Society #5)

Dahlia was grateful the quartermaster had arranged coverings to shade sections of the promenade deck. It was not yet noon, but the sun blazed, reflecting off the water. Thank goodness for the breeze. She was with the other Blue Orchid Society members and their partners—save for Jonathan, who was still feeling ill—the women seated on deck chairs and the men leaning on the railings as they watched a game of quoits taking place on the deck beyond the covering of the shade. When she’d dreamed of a luxury cruise with her friends, this type of moment was exactly what she’d wanted. But she couldn’t have foreseen the weight of being in charge.

What a relief it would be to have someone to ease the burden. Someone she could talk to. Victor would listen. He would offer advice, but even though she considered the man to be her friend, he was still her assistant. And in such a relationship, a separation always existed. One he would respectfully maintain. What Dahlia wanted was someone she could confide in. A person who had no professional interest in the company. Someone whose opinion she trusted. Lord Meredith came into her thoughts, and Dahlia glanced around, wondering where the man might be. A year ago, he would have been exactly whom she’d have turned to. But now she supposed a separation of a different type existed between herself and her former confidante.

Her friends chatted, and Dahlia smiled and nodded at the appropriate moments, but her thoughts were miles away as she contemplated the implications of this morning’s accident and what she should do about it. It seemed almost reckless to continue the journey, but the thought of canceling made her stomach ill. She shifted in her seat, as if movement might dislodge the uncomfortable sensation, and turned her attention to the game, unwilling to allow the others to see her worry.

Ruben and Lorene were at one end of the contest, quoits in hand, and their opponents were Helen Rothschild and, of all people, Lord Lockhart.

A steward stood by a scoreboard, ready to flip the numbers and, if needed, act as judge, and nearby, a few spectators sat watching. Charlotte’s and Priscilla’s chairs were among those on the uncovered deck. They apparently preferred to sit beneath parasols rather than join those in the shade. Dahlia couldn’t help but study each of the passengers with a suspicious eye. One of these people was responsible for what had happened.

Ruben went first, tossing his ring of rope toward the hob and landing it right at the base.

Polite applause sounded.

“A fine start,” Lord Chatsworth said. “’Twill be difficult to top that.”

“Jolly good toss,” Lord Lockhart called to his opponent. He dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief and accepted the ring from Helen. He threw it with a flick of the wrist in the same way a person might toss a hat onto a rack, making the quoit spin as it traveled across the deck. It caught onto the hob and spiraled down to land at its base.

“A ringer,” Dr. Jackson said, “on his first toss!” He nodded, looking impressed.

And he wasn’t the only one. The other men watching sat up straighter, paying attention now, and Helen Rothschild beamed at her partner.

Ruben’s surprised expression turned quickly into a frown.

“There is more to Lord Lockhart than meets the eye,” Benedict said, and Dahlia was glad to see him smile. Since Victor’s accident a few hours earlier, he had been more somber than usual.

“I would venture a guess that Miss Rothschild is in full agreement,” Charles said. He waggled his brows.

“Lord Lockhart simply understands the properties of gravitation, aerodynamics, and drag force,” Vivian said. “It is hardly surprising that a contest dependent on Newton’s laws should be mastered by an expert in physical sciences.”

“Undoubtedly, you are correct, my dear.” Benedict smiled affectionately at his wife.

Although the conversation around her was light, Dahlia could feel the concern underneath the cheerful tones of her friends. Once breakfast was finished, they had all agreed not to discuss the matter of the sabotaged step, but she could not get it out of her head. And based on the worried glances among the others, neither could they.

The difference was Dahlia was responsible. The decision of whether to continue the cruise was up to her. She sighed, glancing at her friends and the others gathered on the deck. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. The cruise was on its way to being the success she’d dreamed of.

This journey was intended to be a wonderful experience for her closest friends. An adventure, of course, but she hadn’t considered it would be anything but entirely safe. And now one of them had very nearly been hurt—poor Victor. Although it was only a scraped knee and a bump on the head, she knew it had disconcerted him more than he’d let on. And it was done by someone here on the ship. Of course, she didn’t consider each person on the SS Aurora to be her dearest comrade, but each one was known to her. And she trusted them. Again, she thought of Meredith, wishing things were as they’d once been between them. He would know what to do.

From the chair next to hers, Sophie poked her arm.

Dahlia realized someone must have spoken to her and looked up. “I beg your pardon. My mind was wandering What was that?”

“I wondered where Meredith had gone to,” Chatsworth said. He stood between Sophie’s and Elizabeth’s chairs, his hip leaning on his fiancée’s chair. “I haven’t seen the chap at all since last night’s supper.”

Dahlia blinked and attempted to look curiously around, as if she had not just been thinking the exact same thing. With the ship’s tour canceled and a competition afoot, she couldn’t think of anywhere else Meredith might be.

“It’s not like him to miss out on a game of quoits,” Benedict said. “He might even give Lockhart a run for his money.”

“I encountered Lord Meredith this morning,” Vivian said as she watched Lorene toss her ring. It passed over the post and landed over a yard away. Lorene’s shoulders fell and Ruben shook his head. A dead quoit. The steward removed it. “It was just after breakfast,” Vivian continued. “He was disappointed that the captain’s tour was postponed. At least, I think he was. He seemed rather distracted.” She glanced toward the saloon doors and gave a small start. “Oh. There he is now.”

Meredith was looking around the deck. His hat brim shadowed his face, preventing Dahlia from seeing his expression, but he appeared to relax when he looked toward them. She suspected Vivian had told him about the accident and he had been worried about Benedict. It gave her a warm feeling to see his concern for his friend and the relief at finding him safe. If there was one thing she knew about Meredith, it was that he was extremely loyal to the people he cared about.

Her heart felt heavy at the thought. There was a time she had believed herself among that group. She sighed, looking back toward the quoits game as Helen tossed her ring. It landed short of the spindle, resting on the board and earning her team another two points, not to mention a grin from her partner that caused her to blush.

But, as was the case with loyalty—Dahlia sighed again— sometimes a person must choose. And Meredith had made his choice, his unwavering allegiance to Ruben fixed. And the pain she had shoved away so successfully over the past year reared its head just for an instant before she took control and pushed it back down to where it belonged. Losing Meredith’s friendship had hurt more than any other.

She glanced toward him again, noting that he remained where he was, just outside the doors. He’d leaned his shoulders back against the outer wall of the saloon, hands in his pockets to watch the game. It surprised her that he hadn’t joined Ruben’s group, but perhaps he wished to remain in the shade. It was comforting to have him there—another thought Dahlia pushed away.

She stood, excusing herself to check on Victor and see to the luncheon preparations. It was to be a light meal since they would reach the port of Boulogne-sur-Mer soon after.

As she drew close to the door, Meredith pushed away from the wall and tipped his hat in greeting. “Miss Lancaster.”

But before she could respond, Mr. Yeates came through the saloon doors. His gaze landed on Dahlia right away. “There you are,” he said as he took the few steps to where she stood. “I beg your pardon, Lord Meredith, but this cannot wait.”

Meredith nodded his acknowledgment and stepped back into the shade.

Dahlia frowned at her cousin’s rudeness and gave Meredith a glance she hoped he understood as an apology.

He gave a small shrug, apparently happy enough to wait.

“I hate to interrupt your leisure time.” Her cousin spoke with his typical dissatisfied tone. “You must know that the harbor pilot will arrive any moment. Have you the port fees?”

“Victor has all the documentation prepared, and he has set aside the funds for the port authority,” Dahlia said. She knew her cousin was only making certain the cruise ran smoothly, but his need to oversee every single detail as well as question her judgment about rudimentary decisions were becoming tiresome. “It is all in hand. Captain Carmichael and Mr. Webster are ready for the pilot’s arrival.” She tried to speak with a patient voice. She knew Meredith could hear the interaction, and she felt embarrassed that in less than a day, he had heard her reprimanded twice by a person who rightfully should be a subordinate. He must think her a terrible manager of a business.

“Yes, well, there is much more to managing a voyage than simply lolling about the decks,” Mr. Yeates went on, gesturing with a lift of his chin toward where she had been sitting with her friends. “Some of us are working very diligently to ensure that this indulgence of yours goes off without a hitch.”

Mr. Yeates had made his feelings about offering the ship’s maiden voyage as a complimentary expedition for an exclusive group very clear. He thought it a waste of money and resources, while Dahlia and Victor had argued that the publicity generated would, in time, more than make up for any expenditures. It was investment, Victor had said.

In the end, Dahlia had won out with the sheer fact that it was her ship and she was the company’s president, and while she was grateful for her cousin’s advice, in this case, she would do as she wished.

“And what of the planned tour?” he asked.

“The arrangements have been made for the tour guides as well as the omnibuses,” Dahlia said, trying not to sound angry. “I will pay them personally.”

“You are leaving the ship?” Her cousin looked shocked.

Dahlia was shocked as well. What could possibly be the reason for his reaction? Her surprise turned to irritation, and she decided to change the topic. “I’ve not seen Mrs. Yeates at all since yesterday. I do hope she has not taken ill.”

“She did not sleep well,” her cousin said.

The way he scowled as he held her gaze told her he blamed the inferior accommodations. As each of the stateroom mattresses had been purchased from the same manufacturer, Dahlia did not even acknowledge his comment.

“If you’ll excuse me.” She turned away from Mr. Yeates and put on her hostess smile. “Lord Meredith.” Dahlia stepped into the shade beside him. “Apologies for the interruption. I do hope you are enjoying your cruise.”

“Very much so, Miss Lancaster.”

His smile was familiar and comforting, and for an instant, she forgot the distance between them, and her impulse was to confide in him, to unburden herself as she once had done so easily, knowing she could fully trust him with her worries. She contemplated and then made a decision, taking a chance. She turned, taking a step and tipping her head in an invitation for him to join her. “Lady Covington told you about the... incident this morning?”

“She did.” He walked beside her.

He didn’t offer his arm, and she wondered if it was because she was so tense that he was fearful of reprimand. She willed herself to relax but couldn’t quite manage it. The truth was she needed him. And relying on anyone when they had the power to hurt her was terrifying. “I am worried, my lord.”

He glanced at her but did not interrupt.

They reached the stairs leading up to the terrace deck and started up. “I don’t know what to do,” she said after a moment, hating that she was allowing herself to be vulnerable.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said.

Without thinking, Dahlia grabbed on to the rail when they reached the offending stair. It didn’t look any different from the others, but its shiny wood finish still gave her a chill as she stepped on it.

Meredith’s fingers brushed the small of her back. It was a simple gesture of support, but it felt as enormous as if he’d built a scaffolding to hold her up.

“Lord Benedict is in danger,” she said, continuing on along the deck to the next staircase. “And the person who wishes him harm is here, on this ship.” She started up the stairs. “Should I terminate the cruise?” Now that she’d said it aloud, despair settled heavily on her shoulders. “If we turned back now, we would be in London before nightfall, and...” She let her voice trail off, knowing he understood the implications. She swallowed hard.

“And the reputation of your cruise line would suffer irreparable damage from the unfavorable publicity,” he said, opening the door she had stopped in front of. He was right. If it was discovered that a person was endangered on her ship, the repercussions would be enormous.

They stepped inside. To their right was another door and, beyond, stairs leading up to the bridge. Male voices came from above. The captain’s she heard distinctly as he gave an order and another as the order was acknowledged and carried out. Dahlia led Meredith in the other direction. They followed a narrow, paneled corridor lit by glowing gas lamps between closed doors. The only sounds were their footsteps clicking on the bare wooden deck and the rustle of Dahlia’s skirts. The operational part of the ship was clean and efficient, but it was much less ornate than the sections the passengers saw.

The final door, Dahlia’s office, was at the stern.

When they stepped inside, Victor rose from a chair on the side of her desk. Ledgers, papers, and envelopes were stacked tidily in front of him. His face betrayed no surprise at seeing her companion, but Dahlia was certain her assistant was nearly bursting with curiosity. “Good morning, Miss Lancaster, Lord Meredith.”

“Mr. Vandelay.” Meredith removed his hat and inclined his head.

“How do you feel, Victor?” Dahlia went around to her side of the desk and took a closer look at her assistant’s forehead.

“Perfectly well,” he said. He must’ve noticed Meredith wince at the purple lump above his brow, because he gave a cheerful smile. “It looks much worse than it is.” He closed the ledger and set two envelopes in front of Dahlia, along with a stack of documents for the port authority.

“If you will excuse me, I must make certain the arrangements are in order for the musicians coming aboard this afternoon.” He took his hat from the rack and gave a gracious nod before leaving.

Dahlia did not miss that he had a slight limp, and the heaviness on her shoulders felt even more discouraging. “Madame Théo and Monsieur Bonnet of the Théatre de la Renaisance in Paris,” Dahlia said, taking her seat and indicating that Meredith should do likewise. It was easier to speak of the musicians than the actual topic on which she wished for advice. “Victor was able to engage them for this evening.” She glanced at the papers and leaned back in her chair.

“That sounds wonderful,” Meredith said. He put his hat on the table beside his chair. “ La Jolie Parfumeuse is reported to be very entertaining.”

Dahlia was glad he didn’t press her to get on with the conversation she’d begun. She needed time to manage her emotions, to gather her thoughts.

Meredith glanced around the office, and Dahlia wondered what he thought of it. She worked in a man’s domain. All of her contacts, business associates, and most of her employees were men. In order to maintain their respect, the office decor had only subtle hints of femininity. A soft landscape painting, a lace lampshade. For this same reason, the room held nothing personal, no photographs or trinkets that would make Dahlia appear anything less than a competent businesswoman managing her own company.

She rubbed her eyes. “I think I must cancel,” she said. “No pleasure cruise is worth risk to a man’s life. I know everyone will be disappointed, none more than myself, but what else can I do?”

Meredith scratched his side-whiskers, pulling his lips to the side in an expression she recognized. He was contemplating his answer. And a bit of weight lifted. She was being taken seriously.

“I’m not so certain that cancellation is the right answer.” His brows were drawn, and he spoke slowly. “The villain has tipped his hand,” he said. “His movements—all of our movements, actually—will be under scrutiny now.” He nodded, his eyes focused beyond her. “With the crew and Benedict’s friends aware of the attempt, he could not be safer, in my opinion. Here, with only a small pool of possible suspects, the perpetrator has a better chance of being caught.” He blinked, looking at her directly. “I believe it will be easier to ensure Ben’s safety here in this limited space than in London, for example, where he could come into contact with any number of people.”

His answer surprised Dahlia. She hadn’t thought of it that way. On the SS Aurora , the chances of anyone being harmed seemed minimal, especially now that they were alerted that someone with malevolent intentions was aboard. She interlaced her fingers, setting her hands on the desk as she thought through what Meredith had said.

“You are unconvinced,” he said after a moment.

“I am just unsure,” she replied.

“Understandable.”

“I want to fix this, to make everything right again, but no matter how I turn the problem around, I cannot find an answer that is entirely sufficient.”

“Miss Lancaster, you would not be the conscientious woman I know you to be if you did not take this incident seriously. Responsibility can be a heavy burden—especially when it is borne alone.” He leaned forward. “But you do not have to do it alone. How can I help?”

There it was. The thing she had hoped for. Someone to offer guidance, to hear her concerns, to help bear the worry. She had shown herself to be vulnerable, and Meredith had responded how she knew he would, with thoughtful understanding. With support, with friendship. But still something inside her was afraid to trust. Afraid to be hurt.

Dahlia breathed. She held her fingers tighter and tried to keep apprehension from her expression. She still felt ill at ease thinking of how very close Benedict had come to harm.

“Will you look after him?” she said at last. “I have the captain’s reassurance that the crew is on watch, but I need more. Someone I trust fully.” She looked down at her hands.

“We will do it together,” Meredith said. “The pair of us can watch over poor Benedict like over-vigilant nursemaids.”

There was a teasing in his tone, but she knew he took the matter seriously.

She laughed. “He will be so pleased to find us dogging his every step.”

“And if, tomorrow morning, you still feel concern, the question of continuing the cruise can be re-examined then,” Meredith said. “You do not have to decide everything this moment, nor do you have to make the decision alone. Not when you have friends to help you.”

With his words came the relief she had sought. It was exactly what she’d needed. Someone to listen, to offer advice, and to trust her. A plan was in place, and it felt right. Confiding in Meredith felt right. Having her old friend by her side— She broke off the thought, alarmed at how easily she had slipped back into her former role. How quickly she had forgotten a year of hurt and betrayal. She sat up straight, taking the reins and steering the coach back on track. “Thank you, Lord Meredith,” she said. “I have work to do before we disembark. I will meet you at the gangway once we’ve docked?”

He tipped his head, and she could see the question in his expression, but he did not voice it. Instead he rose, taking his hat and bidding her farewell before leaving her office.

Dahlia sank back in her seat, wrestling her emotions back to where they belonged. She could trust Lord Meredith with this responsibility, but with her heart... with that, she would never trust him again.