Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)

“I don’t need you to provide for me.”

He still did not understand her obvious upset, and chose for the moment to ignore it. “The Scarlet Queen carries primarily passengers bound for Sacramento, but there are many stops along the way. Perhaps on another trip we’ll go to Grass Valley and Marysville and visit General Sutter. I think you’d enjoy Hock Farm. If you like, we can visit the Yuba River. I have a gold mine there.”

I’ll just bet you do, she thought, kicking at a coiled hemp rope.

“It’s still quite rough and uncivilized,” Delaney continued, nodding to Colonel Dakworth and his wife as he steered Chauncey aft toward the glassed wheelhouse. “A great variety of men live there—Germans, Swedes, Chinese, even some English.” He suddenly grew silent, his lips thinning into a white line.

“Well, if it ain’t Mr. Saxton and his little bride! Howdy, ma’am!”

Chauncey eyed the dark-haired, powerfully built man standing in front of her. She blinked when Delaney said abruptly, “Baron. I’m certain you’ll excuse us.”

He gripped her elbow in an iron hold. “Baron?” she asked, puzzled. “Who is he? Why do you so dislike him?”

“He is not a nice man, Chauncey. In fact, I don’t think I’d trust him if he were surrounded by harp-playing angels in heaven. Ah, Captain O’Mally.”

Chauncey blinked at the very short little man who was dressed in an ornate scarlet uniform. His bald head was round as his stomach and he had a wide mouth filled with unevenly spaced, very white teeth. His eyes were a twinkling light blue. He looked like a good-natured, thoroughly harmless leprechaun.

“Rufus, this is my wife, Elizabeth. My dear, Captain O’Mally.”

He clicked his heels together and his smile widened even further. “Charming, ma’am, and charmed, I assure you!” His blue eyes studied her face. “So you’re the lovely English lady who caught our Del.”

“She did indeed,” Delaney agreed blandly.

“I am pleased to meet you, Captain,” Chauncey said, extending her gloved hand. His hands were as small and delicate as her own, but she felt the iron strength as he clasped her fingers.

“And this is Mr. Hoolihan, ma’am,” Captain O’Mally said, straightening to his full diminutive height. Chauncey nodded to the tall, very dark-visaged man who had come out of the glassed-in wheelhouse. He too was dressed in a scarlet uniform of sorts, but without so many gold braids and brass buttons. On him the uniform looked very dashing.

“Mr. Hoolihan just joined me just last week,” Captain O’Mally said. “This is only his second trip. Came to us very highly recommended, of course.”

The men exchanged what Chauncey decided was boat talk. She realized after a few moments that Mr. Hoolihan was gazing at her from the corner of his dark eyes. His look held no admiration, no warmth. Indeed, he appeared to be studying her like a specimen butterfly to be pinned in a collection. She shook off the fanciful image. Suddenly there was the sound of a loud whistle, and she jumped.

“Ah, we’re ready to go,” Captain O’Mally said. “Will you join me for dinner, Del?”

“Perhaps,” Delaney said, shooting a teasing smile toward Chauncey.

The captain nodded his bald head and said smartly to Mr. Hoolihan, “All right, boy, let’s earn our keep! Ma’am,” he said, and stepped aside as Delaney escorted Chauncey from the wheelhouse.

“Our stateroom is on the top deck,” Delaney said, pointing to the wide wooden stairs upward. “The dining room, gambling hall, and first-class cabins are on this deck.”

Chauncey avoided the stairs and turned to walk to the railing. “Everything is so lavish, so polished,” she said, running her fingers over the sparkling brass.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Belowdeck, things aren’t quite so laudable. It’s not nearly as bad as the steerage in ships, but there aren’t any velvet appointments.”

The racket grew as more passengers crowded to the railing to wave good-bye to friends and family on the dock. Sailors flung the heavy shoring lines to men on the decks. The loud whistle sounded again. Slowly the steamboat eased away from the dock.

Delaney waited patiently until Chauncey had had her fill. Their fellow passengers began to disperse to their cabins or to the gambling hall or to one of the two salons. He lightly touched her shoulder. “Come, love,” he said.

“But there is so much to see! Look at the hills, Delaney. They’re so much greener than those in the city. And the islands, are they inhabited? Indians?”

“A few and maybe. You’re shivering, my dear. I don’t want you to take a chill.”

Chauncey turned reluctantly from the railing, refusing to meet her husband’s eyes. It seemed to her that he now held all the power, and she was frightened. She vaguely remembered the rippling, quite pleasurable sensations of the night before, and took a deep breath. She raised her chin and walked briskly toward the stairs.

Their stateroom was beyond anything she could have imagined. The walls were solid mahogany, the furniture dark and rich. A crimson carpet covered the floor, and the windows were draped with crimson velvet. Her eyes were drawn to the wide bed on the port side of the room, its spread as scarlet as blood.

“Like a floating bordello, isn’t it?”

She ran her tongue over her lower lip.