The Ring and the Crown (The Ring and the Crown 1)

“Hey, no need to be so shy. I thought we were friends!”

“Friends?” she said, aghast. “Wherever did you get that idea?”

He grinned and didn’t answer. “Having a good trip?”

She nodded curtly and attempted to turn away again, but he wasn’t having it. “I’m a little seasick myself, but that can’t be helped,” he said.

“You could try watching the horizon. Supposedly it centers your equilibrium,” she said.

“Is that so?” he asked, staring at the sea. “Hmm. You might just be right about that.”

“You’re not supposed to be up here, you know,” she said. “This is for first-class passengers only. The porter comes around in a bit, and he’ll know you don’t belong here.”

“Oh? That’s very nice of you to be worried about my well-being.” He smiled. “What will they do? Throw me off the ship? I’d like to see them try.”

“You like to live dangerously, do you?” she said.

“Ah, so you do remember me!” he crowed. “See, I told you we were friends.” He nudged her elbow. Against her will, she found herself smiling back at him.

“That’s more like it,” he said. Footsteps rounded the corner: the ship’s porter, offering drinks. His smile faded. “Well, I suppose that’s my cue,” he said. “Like Heathcliff, I’ve got to run away.”

“Wait!” she called.

“Yes, Cathy?” he asked with a grin.

She bit her lip. “Will I see you again?”

“Would you like to?” He winked. “I’m just teasing. Same time, same place, tomorrow?”

She hesitated, unsure why she had asked. Something had propelled her: a desire to not let him get away, not to say good-bye just yet. She couldn’t help but say, “No—I mean, yes, but not here.”

The next day, Ronan insisted that Vera take the afternoon off to visit with a friend she had made, who was a governess for another family. “Go and catch up over a long and luxurious six-course tea,” she urged. “I am quite content to remain here and relax quietly.”

“If you’re sure, dear,” Vera said doubtfully. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m sure. And take as long as you want. Please.”

Once her governess was dispatched, Ronan heaved a sigh of relief.

Promptly at three o’clock, there was a knock on the door. She opened the door and sure enough, the boy who’d styled himself Heathcliff was there with a smile on his face. “Is this your room? All this?” he said, taking a look around.

Ronan nodded, feeling somewhat embarrassed at the luxury. She had been intent on finding a private place for them where he wouldn’t be run off by the porters on the upper deck, but it seemed fraudulent to pass it all off as hers. “I mean, it’s all my room, but it’s not really mine. It’s a long story.”

He walked over to the library books, pulling out titles, murmuring to himself. “Have you read this?” he asked. “This?”

She shook her head, not paying too much attention to the books. She began to think it might have been the wrong idea to invite him over. Now that he was here, she wasn’t sure what to do with him. But he saved the afternoon, as somehow she knew he would. “I say,” he said, spying the game room. “Do you play billiards?”

From that day on, every afternoon Vera went to have tea with her friend. Ronan met Heath, as she came to think of him, in her room to play billiards and drink champagne. He was very opinionated on what kind of champagne to order, and gave her a list of the best vintages to ask for from the room’s stewards.

“The ’87 Canard-Duchene! A very good year,” he said as he popped the cork and the bottle frothed with bubbles.

She laughed as he poured them two tall stems.

“Prost!” he said heartily.

“Cheers,” she smiled, taking a big sip. “How do you know so much about champagne?”

He shrugged. “A hobby of mine.”