Ship of Dreams (20 page)

Kent must have known the workings of this man's mind well, for immediately his shrewd little eyes became speculative. "How substantial?" he asked.

"I'll discuss the details with you later. First, however, you will apologize to my wife." Never, not even when he had given her his original utimatum on they day they met, had Della heard Kent sound so implacable.

Francis Cadbury frowned, clearly waging an internal struggle between loyalty to his sister and greed. Greed won out. "Sorry, Mrs. Bradford. Took me by surprise, that's all."

Again Della extended her hand, with her most gracious smile. "Quite understandable, Mr. Cadbury. It does you credit that you care so for your sister, and I hope I won't be an instrument of pain to her."

He seemed uncertain what response was called for, but he took her hand briefly and sketched a faint bow over it. Then, turning immediately back to Kent, he said, "Details?"

"Of course. If you'll excuse us, my dear?"

More than willing to put some distance between herself and Francis Cadbury, Della nodded and moved away. Glancing around, she was relieved to discover that none of their closer friends on board had witnessed this exchange—only those slight acquaintances who were leaving momentarily anyway. Still, it gave her a foretaste of what she and Kent were likely to face when they reached New York.

Caroline herself might very well be waiting at the dock, she realized. She'd have received no letter, of course, and would doubtless see Della as a scheming fortune-hunter who had stolen Kent from her.

And would she be so very wrong?

Certainly, that had not been Della's intent at the outset. She'd only wanted a plausible excuse for being aboard the
Sonora
so that she could escape being arrested for murder. But as she'd come to know Kent, she
had
wanted to engage his interest, and though she hadn't known about his fiancée at the time, she'd made no inquiries, either. Once she'd known, the knowledge had not been enough to overcome her desire for Kent. And now ...

Now she was in truth what she had claimed to be the moment she met him. She was also hopelessly in love with him—and he now loved her in return. But would his love withstand the ruining of his business and social interests? Would it have been more noble for her to have refused him, despite their love?

"Della, why the long face?" Addie Easton broke into her disturbing thoughts. "Are you disappointed that we were able to spend such a short time ashore? I'd have liked to stay longer, too. Havana seems a fascinating city."

Eagerly, Della seized on this excuse for her pensiveness. "Yes, I had hoped we might be able to stay ashore overnight." She sighed, willing away her worries over what the future held.

"We'll just have to come up with something special to do tonight to make up for it, don't you think? And Ansel and I have been invited to join Captain Herndon at his table for dinner tomorrow night. I'm sure he'd be delighted if you and Mr. Bradford were to accompany us. I'll go suggest it."

She hurried off, leaving Della to smile at her kindness. How pleasant it was to have friends! Beyond her sister Maire, Della had cultivated few over the years, and none who were close. First there had been the embarrassment of Papa's drinking and their rapid return to near-poverty. Then she had moved about so much that friendships had been impossible to maintain.

For a moment she allowed herself to imagine a rosy future in New York, married to Kent and with dozens of friends, couples they could socialize with, ladies she could gossip with ... But then the pleasant vision faded. Far more likely, she'd be a social pariah, accused of snaring Kent and injuring Caroline.

She'd heard stories of the Eastern moneyed elite. They wouldn't easily admit an outsider like her to their ranks, however Kent pretended otherwise. But he'd promised to protect her from them, so she would simply have to trust him. She had passed the point of no return when she married him.

Addie returned then, to tell her that she and Kent were more than welcome to join them at the captain's table the next evening. "And tonight we'll have a grand time on deck, watching the lights of Havana. There may even be dancing, as a group of musicians have agreed to play for us."

Della was agreeing that would be fun when Mary Patterson and Virginia Birch joined them with the same news. For a while, Della was able to forget her worries, chattering happily with her newfound group of friends.

*
          
*
          
*

The sun was sinking by the time the last of the passengers and cargo had been transferred. The gangplank was drawn up, and the
Central America
rocked gently at anchor as evening fell with a glorious scarlet sunset. One by one, the lights of Havana gleamed out across the placid waters of the harbor.

Kent made his way back to Della, where she stood near the railing, talking with some of the other women. He had made an uneasy truce with Francis Cadbury, based largely on the quantity of gold Kent carried and was promised by his investors. Some untruths had been necessary to mollify the man, however. He knew they would be exposed in a few days, when they reached New York, but he was willing to risk future embarrassment to prevent further unpleasantness toward Della for the remainder of the voyage.

"Are you all resigned to staying on board tonight?" he asked the group when he reached them. "Mr. Patterson did try to convince Captain Herndon to allow a few of us to spend the night ashore, but without success. It appears he had a bad experience once before with a passenger who found the Havana rum so much to his liking that he was unwilling to leave with the ship. He had to be carried forcibly aboard."

The ladies laughed at the image this conjured, but Kent was aware of Della's questioning glance. When the conversation turned again to the possibility of a dance that evening, she moved to take his arm.

"Come, let us go enjoy the sunset before it is gone," she suggested—for the benefit of the others, he was sure. Though not particularly eager to make explanations, he acquiesced.

"Well?" she prompted once they were out of earshot.

"Well what? I thought you wanted to watch the sunset," he teased.

She was not amused. "Don't evade me, Kent. What did you and Mr. Cadbury discuss? Do I need to fear he'll try to pitch me overboard before we reach New York?"

Kent started before he saw that she was smiling. Still, the image shook him. As a boy, Francis had been quite capable of violence. "Of course not!" he said emphatically, to convince himself as much as her. "He's far too eager to use my wealth and influence for his own ends to risk such a thing."

Della must have caught the uncertainty he tried to conceal. "You don't like him, that's clear, and he most certainly doesn't like the fact that I exist. Have you known him a long time?"

"Since we were boys. And I'll admit he was a bit of a bully when we were young." What an understatement that was! "But he's an adult now, and no fool when it comes to his own business interests."

"I'm relieved to hear it." But she still looked unconvinced. "What, exactly, did you tell him? I wouldn't want to inadvertently contradict you, should he catch me alone."

Kent was determined not to allow that to happen. "I told him Caroline and I had been corresponding," he said. "That her recent letters hinted that she found our betrothal a burden. Since he had mercenary reasons to want to believe me, he wasn't hard to convince."

But Della sighed. "I blurted out that bit about the letter without thinking, for fear he was about to do you an injury. Not until afterward did I realize how easy it would be to disprove. Suppose he encounters Mrs. Benbow?"

"Damn! I hadn't thought of that. And he may well know the woman by sight, if she lived so near his mother." He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "We'll simply have to deal with that problem when—if—it arises. Perhaps it won't."

"And then there's the fact that we said there'd been no time for any letters at all, on our first day aboard the
Sonora
," she reminded him.

Kent groaned. "I'm such a pitiful liar. I wish I'd never attempted it." Then, realizing what he'd said, he turned quickly to Della. "That is to say—I didn't mean—"

"No, I understand." She smiled, but he could see the hurt in her eyes. "I've complicated your life terribly, haven't I? I'm so sorry, Kent."

He snatched her to him in a hard embrace. "You've brought me more happiness than I've ever known," he said fervently. "You have nothing to apologize for, Della. Ever."

She sighed, leaning her head against his chest. "I hope you still think so when we reach New York. You may discover that fleeting happiness can't compensate for the long-term consequences of deceiving others to attain it."

"Fleeting? Perhaps not. But ours will be a lifelong happiness, Della—well worth any momentary embarrassments or slights. You'll see."

Again she sighed, but this time he dared hope it was in relief. At any rate, she advanced no more arguments. Arms around each other, they watched the last crimson sliver of the sun sink behind the western arm of the Havana harbor. Then, as they continued to watch, lights brightened across the city. Before it was full dark, Havana glittered more vividly than the stars above.

"It's beautiful," Della breathed.

"It is. San Francisco looked much the same the first time I saw it from the sea, just after sunset. I should have known that beauty presaged a change for the better in my life." He squeezed her waist.

"This is the first time I've seen a city at night from the water—but I thank you for the compliment." She tightened her own clasp in return, just as the dinner bell rang. For a moment they clung together, as though fearing this brief idyll might be among their last, then they turned to go down to supper, hands still clasped.

The talk at the table was all of the dancing planned for later, the ladies having apparently convinced the captain and their husbands to allow the entertainment. So eager were they to begin that the meal was concluded swiftly. The ladies then excused themselves to their quarters to freshen up before returning to the men on deck.

Kent joined the other men in clearing a wide space on the promenade deck, moving coiled ropes and other paraphernalia out of the way, and repositioning some of the ship's lanterns to supplement the moonlight and starlight illuminating their makeshift dance floor. They were just congratulating themselves on the result when the ladies began to reappear with exclamations of delight.

"Why, it's just like a garden party, only better," cried Mary Patterson. "Instead of a pool to reflect the lights, we have the entire harbor around us!"

The others laughingly agreed. The musicians, a group of steerage passengers whose talents had been belatedly discovered by those in first class, began to tune up their instruments. Della appeared just then, and moved at once to Kent's side. She had donned her new dress, and woven the green and blue scarf from Panama through her red curls for a bewitching effect.

"You look lovelier than ever tonight," he murmured when she reached him.

"It's the new dress," she replied with a grin. "Thank you for buying it for me."

"Husband's prerogative. This dress becomes you—but I think you'd make a burlap sack look good." And he meant it. Della was more beautiful every time he saw her.

"I hope we won't have to put that to the test!" she exclaimed with a laugh. Just then, the musicians struck up the first tune.

Kent extended his arm. "Shall we dance, Mrs. Bradford?"

But Della hung back. "I'm afraid I've had almost no chance to learn—just a few lessons during our one year of prosperity. I may embarrass you."

"Impossible," he said firmly, and led her out to join the other couples assembling in the middle of the deck.

Nor did she embarrass him. Though she hesitated occasionally, Della was light on her feet and quick to improvise if she didn't know a step. The musicians mainly knew lively folk tunes, so after just a few dances, everyone was breathless, flushed and happy. The stewards and stewardesses entered into the spirit of the evening, producing bowls of fruit punch to refresh them all for another hour of dancing.

All in all, it was a magical evening. By the time people started drifting toward the stairs to descend to their cabins, all agreed it was the most pleasant evening of the voyage yet. Kent was smiling, imagining future dances in New York, as he linked arms with Della to return to their quarters. Passing through the saloon, however, he saw Francis Cadbury near the far windows, deep in conversation with Nelson Sharpe.

He hurried Della into their cabin, hoping she had not noticed the two men. She made no mention of them, to his relief, and when he began helping her out of her new dress, she responded with gratifying eagerness. Kent's fleeting worries faded as together they recaptured the magic of the evening, exploring new ways to pleasure each other. If there was an urgency to their passion, he attributed it only to desire—and love.

Later, however, as Della slumbered by his side, Kent stared up into the darkness at the berth above them. With the engines silent, he could hear every creak of the ship, every lap of water against the hull outside their cabin. But that was not what kept him awake. The memory of Sharpe and Cadbury in private conference haunted him. Whatever tomorrow might bring for him, he was determined it would involve no unpleasantness for Della.