Touching the Stars Page 4

  Until he heard the sort of buzz that signalled an unexpected happening, he looked up.

  Coming through the room was a girl of seventeen or eighteen years. The first point that caught Lord Castleton’s attention was the shock of copper coloured curls that surrounded her head in an aureole.

  The second point was that no one seemed to have told the girl that passengers did not dress for dinner the first night at sea for she was arrayed in the most formal of evening dresses in grey satin.

  It was immaculately cut, showed creamy white shoulders and displayed her willowy figure to perfection, but nothing could alter the fact that she had committed a faux pas of the worst sort.

  As he heard murmurs of ridicule and the odd derisive laugh circulate the Saloon, Lord Castleton knew that Ariadne would have expressed more compassion for a girl hardly out of school.

  Despite that wild head of glorious hair, this was definitely someone in need of protection.

  As Lord Castleton watched, he saw the girl gradually realise that she was the only passenger who had changed into what his father would have called ‘the full rig’.

  Her huge eyes widened and shock flooded her mobile face as she recognised the magnitude of her error. She hesitated at a table for five near to Lord Castleton’s, where sat a middle-aged woman with two girls of her own age.

  Horror-stricken, the girl turned, as though to leave the Saloon. But the woman caught her arm, pulling her down to sit at the table.

  “Don’t make more of a fool of yourself than you already have,’’ she snapped and her voice was cruel.

  Lord Castleton found it difficult to credit her behaviour. The girl must be travelling with her, so why had she not explained what was expected?

  He beckoned to the Head Steward.

  “My Lord?”

  “Who is the young lady who came in just now in evening dress?”

  “Miss Justina Mansell, she is the daughter of Lord Mansell, my Lord.”

  “Thank you, Merton.”

  Lord Castleton knew Lord Mansell.

  About two months ago they had shared a whisky at the House of Lords and talked about the very aspect of India that had brought him on this voyage. At the time he had not known he would be sent on this diplomatic mission, but he remembered Lord Mansell mentioning that a daughter of his was travelling out to spend time with his soldier son.

  Could not the man have organised a better chaperone for his daughter?

  Lord Castleton gathered his papers together and rose, waving away the Steward that hurried up to his table.

  The girl was sitting with downcast eyes. He could imagine her embarrassment. No doubt she was hardly able to speak.

  So far food had not been served to her table, it seemed they were waiting for the fifth member of their party.

  “Miss Mansell, isn’t it?” Lord Castleton began. “I am a friend of your father’s and I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”

  Justina looked up and he was taken aback at the expression in the grey eyes that dominated her face. Far from being embarrassed, they blazed with anger.

  “Will you allow me to introduce myself,” he continued smoothly. “Marcus Castleton.” He gave a slight bow. “And may I compliment you on the speed with which your maid has unpacked? There are few passengers on the first night at sea who are able to appear so beautifully turned out.”

  The first hint of a smile.

  “You are too kind, sir. If my maid had not been completely overcome with seasickness, she would no doubt have explained that most passengers take the easy path and spared me the effort of dressing. But I am delighted to meet a friend of my father’s. Please, may I introduce my fellow travellers?”

  Mrs. Arbuthnot was all of a flutter.

  “So delighted to meet you, Lord Castleton. The Colonel and I were at a Vice-regal reception with you a few years ago in Bombay.

  “But so charming to know we are all to be sailing together for the next four weeks. You must join us for dinner one night, I shall insist, my Lord.”

  Too old a hand to be caught making promises he had no intention of keeping, Lord Castleton murmured something about the pressures of work that had followed him on board and took his leave.

  As he turned away from the table, he gave Justina a smile and found that she was grinning at him in a way that suggested she knew exactly what he thought of Mrs. Arbuthnot.

  She was a girl with grit and he thought how much Ariadne would have liked her.

  Delighted not to be leaving her in tears and conscious his status had gone some way towards rescuing her reputation, he threaded his way through the Saloon.

  “Castleton!”

  Lord Castleton stopped.

  “Sir Thomas Watson,” he said coldly.

  “Travelling on the same ship, by Jove! What a coincidence.”

  The man seemed no more pleased with the encounter than he was.

  “You look as though you have finished your meal, but no doubt we shall meet again. A ship is a small place.”

  It was a sentiment with which Lord Castleton could heartily concur. Even this ship, larger than any he had so far travelled on, was far too small to avoid those he would rather not encounter

  As he made a curt acknowledgement and continued on his way, he wondered how much longer the man would be travelling First Class. The story going around was that Sir Thomas had made a series of unfortunate business moves and was on the point of bankruptcy.

  Lord Castleton had not been surprised to hear this news as the man could not be trusted, either with business or with women. No doubt he would now be on the lookout for a rich wife to see him through his troubles.

  Just before he left the Saloon, Lord Castleton could not resist turning back to look at the remarkable girl who had graced the room in her finery.

  He felt more than a moment’s unease as he saw that Thomas Watson was now seated at her table.

  *

  Justina watched Lord Castleton leave the Saloon with regret.

  She would never forget her sense of humiliation as she realised that, instead of bringing credit on her family with her efforts to make the most of herself this evening, she had disgraced them.

  She heard the derision, saw the contempt in the eyes of the other passengers and instinctively knew that Mrs. Arbuthnot’s cruelty was a reaction to the embarrassment that Justina had caused.

  After all, her chaperone should have warned her about the dress code.

  But when Lord Castleton stopped at their table and spoke to her with such warmth, Justina had sensed that the mood of the Saloon had changed.

  He must be a gentleman above reputation to achieve such a startling turn-around.

  She might be regarded as an innocent but she knew that he had seen her predicament and had rescued her from public ridicule.

  Moreover, he had looked at her with admiration in his eyes. After that, she had not cared what the other passengers thought.

  But why had Mrs. Arbuthnot not made sure she was aware that no passengers dressed for dinner the first night out? She sat straight in her chair. Let other passengers think what they liked, Lord Castleton had admired her.

  What a pity he had left so quickly.

  As tall as Sir Thomas but with dark hair, he somehow managed to look more distinguished. His face was finely sculpted, he held himself with an unassuming authority and Justina could not forget the warmth in his eyes or how very deep blue they were.

  She wondered if Mrs. Arbuthnot’s silliness had driven him away or did he really have so much work to do? Would he spend the entire voyage working in his cabin as he had intimated?

  She hoped very much that they would meet again.

  Then Sir Thomas Watson arrived.

  He bowed and wished them all good evening, but as his eyes took in Justina’s appearance, a startled expression came over his face.

  However it seemed that it was not her faux pas that had surprised him. He looked at Justina with admiration.

  First Lord C
astleton and now Sir Thomas. There must be something about her looks that appealed to older, more sophisticated gentlemen rather than the younger ones she had encountered during her Season.

  “You are the most beautiful woman in the room,” Sir Thomas whispered to her and his eyes seemed to bore into her in a way that made her feel unsteady.

  “Oh, Justina has put us all into the shade,” Mrs. Arbuthnot cooed sweetly but with a hint of steel. “But, then, what else should we expect from a member of the Mansell family? Such position, such wealth, such everything that is so desirable!”

  Justina wanted to say that it was her aunt who possessed the riches. Once she would not have hesitated to do so but, now, having already committed such an error of etiquette, she did not like to contradict Mrs. Arbuthnot.

  There was also another reason that stopped her.

  This was a sudden thought that Lady Elder might have exaggerated her brother’s financial state to enhance Justina’s standing in Mrs. Arbuthnot’s eyes. It did not seem all that likely, but Justina could not quite dismiss the possibility.

  By this time Sir Thomas had sat himself in the empty place between Faith and Charity, which meant he was opposite Justina.

  “Are you looking forward to returning to India?” he asked Faith.

  She blushed and muttered something about being sad not to live in Bombay.

  Justina was immediately interested and abandoned any thought of correcting the impression Mrs. Arbuthnot had given of her father’s wealth.

  “Is Bombay very special?” she asked.

  “Ah, Bombay,” Sir Thomas said and his dark eyes sparkled. “You know the island was a gift to Charles II from his Portuguese wife? Would that every wife brought such a dowry!”

  He laughed and for a moment there was a coarseness about him that took Justina aback.

  Then an abrupt lurch of the ship had everyone grabbing at plates and cutlery to prevent them spinning to the floor.

  More lurches followed.

  Their meal arrived, but soon all three Arbuthnots laid down their knives and forks.

  “You must excuse me,” Mrs. Arbuthnot said rapidly as she rose. “I think I should say goodnight.”

  Faith and Charity also stood, looking pale and unhappy.

  “Do you want to come, too, Justina?”

  She felt no necessity to follow them.

  “I feel fine,” she said. “I am sorry you do not and I hope the sea will soon be calmer.”

  “Well,” Sir Thomas said as he watched them hurry from the Saloon, followed by one or two other passengers. “I suppose I should say what a pity. Instead, I feel most fortunate to have you to myself. You really do not feel at all uneasy at the motion of the ship?”

  “Not in the slightest,” admitted Justina honestly, feeling flattered at being called beautiful. “Now, tell me more about Bombay.”

  She thoroughly enjoyed listening to him and asked eager questions about other aspects of India. She found herself laughing at much of what he said and was thrilled to realise she would see him frequently over the next few weeks.

  When, however, Sir Thomas at the end of the meal suggested that they take coffee together in the ship’s Lounge, she looked round the now nearly deserted room and decided it would not be wise.

  She had made enough of a spectacle of herself already that evening.

  “You won’t?” he said in surprise. His eyes narrowed slightly. “I thought you were enjoying my company.”

  “Indeed, I was,” Justina hastened to reassure him. “But it has been a long day.”

  She stood and picked up her beaded reticule.

  “I am sorry you refuse my exceedingly well meant invitation,” he said softly in a way that made Justina feel uncomfortable. “I am not a man who expects to be refused, especially when the lady is as beautiful as you are.”

  Justina took a step backwards.

  “I – thank you – Sir Thomas,” she stammered. “Perhaps we can have a cup of coffee together tomorrow instead?”

  Immediately the slight sense of threat vanished.

  “Of course, my dear. And of course you must be tired. I have to thank you for keeping me company this evening.”

  The ship gave another of its lurches and he put out an arm to help support her.

  She shivered slightly at the touch of his sleeve against the bare skin of her shoulders.

  “Be careful. Let me help you across the room.”

  She pulled away, half wanting the touch of his arm to remain, but nervous at where such familiarity might lead.

  “Thank you, Sir Thomas, but I can manage quite well.” Sir Thomas followed Justina out of the Saloon and accompanied her along the corridor towards her cabin.

  Once there, she turned to thank him.

  “No need for such a beauty to thank a poor Baronet for keeping her company,” he said with a look that made her heart beat faster.

  As Justina opened her cabin door, he remained standing close to her and for an instant she wondered if he expected to come inside.

  She pushed away such a ridiculous thought, gave a dextrous flip of her gown’s skirt and moved lithely into the cabin.

  With a last goodnight, she closed the door.

  Alone, she chided herself for fearing such a move from a gentleman like Sir Thomas.

  The prospect of meeting him again sent her to bed with a delightful feeling of expectation.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When Justina woke the next morning, it was to find the ship pitching up and down in a most disconcerting manner. Several of her possessions, instead of staying where she had left them, were rolling around on the floor.

  After a little, in fact, she realised that she found the pitching and tossing exhilarating and she did not feel in the least seasick.

  She drew back the curtain from the porthole. Rain lashed at the thick glass. Through it could be seen dark grey tossing waves of foam-flecked water.

  Then she remembered her humiliation of the night before.

  Her face burned as the moment came back to her when she realised what a mistake she had made. If it had not been for Lord Castleton’s intervention, she would have felt an outcast.

  He had been so kind.

  She had a delightful feeling in her breast as she thought of his tall, aristocratic figure and the kind way he had spoken to her. She would have to tell her father when she wrote to him that they had met.

  Then there had been Sir Thomas. What a good-looking man! And he had made her feel so attractive.

  He had told her she was beautiful!

  It was the first time anyone had said that to her. He had been almost too attentive.

  Suddenly the door to her cabin crashed open.

  Justina clutched the bedclothes to her chest half expecting it to be Sir Thomas.

  But instead it was her Stewardess, Mrs. Grange.

  “Good morning, miss. How are you feeling?”

  “I am fine, but I don’t know about the ship.”

  “It’s only the Bay of Biscay, miss,” Mrs. Grange informed her, holding onto the door frame. “Known for tossing us around a little.”

  “A little?”

  “We’ve sailed through much worse than this. Now, I can bring you rolls, some orange juice and a bottle of water or beer for breakfast, but if you want coffee, I’m afraid you’ll have to go to the Saloon.”

  The thought of hot coffee was enticing and Justina said she would dress and have breakfast in the Saloon.

  She put on the woollen skirt and jacket that Dorcas had so despised, thinking how sensible she had been to bring them.

  Just as she was leaving her cabin, Mrs. Grange appeared again.

  “Message from Mrs. Arbuthnot, miss. Presents her apologies. She and the Miss Arbuthnots are laid right low. Asks if your maid could exercise her little dog.”

  Justina brightened.

  She dismissed the idea of Dorcas walking their dog as she would be in a worse state than the Arbuthnots, but it would be a delightful activi
ty for herself. She sent a message back to tell Mrs. Arbuthnot not to worry about Muffin.

  The Dining Saloon was almost empty.

  The Steward asked Justina if she would like to sit at the long table. At the far end were two young men tucking into plates of bacon and eggs.

  Much further down the table was an elderly man reading a newspaper over toast and coffee. He had long sideburns and a large bald patch.

  She went to sit beside him and he smiled at her.

  “I like to see a young gel with sea legs. Come for a chota hazri, have you?”

  “Chota hazri?”

  “A little breakfast. Or perhaps a large one?”

  “I’ve just learned my first Indian words!”

  “That’s the way! Many of the Indian servants don’t speak English and you will need to learn at least some simple phrases if you are to get on with them.”

  The elderly man introduced himself as Frank Wright.

  “Travelling back to Bombay. I am afraid the wife is suffering from mal de mer, as it seems are most of the passengers.”

  “I am Justina Mansell. Do you know India well?”

  “Lived most of my life there – in the Indian Civil Service.”

  She was delighted to meet someone else who could tell more her about India and she passed an enjoyable breakfast learning about the difficulties of organising the Indian Empire.

  At the end of the meal she asked Mr. Wright how she could find where a dog would be kennelled for the voyage.

  Instantly he clicked his fingers for the Steward and soon Justina received directions on how to reach the upper deck.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Mr. Wright asked her. “It’s blowing a bit out there.”

  She smiled and said she would be fine on her own.

  “I expect Mrs. Wright needs you to see how she’s getting on and I have to check on my maid.” Then added hastily, “and Mrs. Arbuthnot and her daughters, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Justina went immediately to check on Dorcas. Her maid’s cabin was now fully occupied with moaning and groaning women. Dorcas, though, seemed worse than them.

  It was a relief to leave the airless and foetid cabin. Justina thought if she had stayed any longer in there, she would begin to feel seasick herself!