Otherwise Engaged Read Free

fear, I wrote down the address so I won’t forget it. But I assure you it won’t be necessary for me to deliver it. You will recover from your wound, sir, and deliver the letter yourself.”
    “If I recover, there will be no need for me to deliver it.”
    “I don’t understand,” she said. “What does that mean?”
    “Never mind. Just promise me that you won’t let that satchel out of your sight until I feel strong enough to take care of the letter myself.”
    “I give you my word that I will keep the satchel and the letter with me at all times. But I do feel that, given all that has transpired, I am owed some explanation.”
    “In return for your promise to guard the letter I give you my word that someday I will explain as much as I can.”
    And that was all she was going to get by way of a guarantee that she would one day be told the truth, she concluded.
    A knock announced the return of Yates. She hoisted the satchel and crossed the small space to open the door.
    “I will look in on you again after breakfast, Mr. Stanbridge,” she said. “Meanwhile, be sure you do nothing to undo my needlework.”
    “I’ll be careful. One more thing, Miss Doncaster.”
    “What is that?”
    “According to the
Northern Star
’s schedule, we are not due to arrive in New York for another ten days. In addition to the passengers who are already on board, we will no doubt be picking up a few more.”
    “Yes. What of it?”
    He levered himself partway up on one elbow. Pain tightened the corners of his eyes. “Do not tell anyone else about that letter—not any of the other passengers or any members of the crew. It is vitally important that you not trust anyone who is on board now or who may come aboard between here and New York. Is that clear?”
    “Quite clear.” She gripped the doorknob. “I must say, you are certainly a man of mystery, Mr. Stanbridge.”
    He sank wearily back down onto the pillows. “Not at all, Miss Doncaster. I’m an engineer.”

Two
    T he storm at sea was far away but the lightning illuminated the clouds in a fiery radiance. The atmosphere was charged and intoxicating. On a night like this a woman could be forgiven if she believed she could fly, Amity thought.
    She stood on the promenade deck, her hands braced on the teak railing, and watched the spectacle with wonder and excitement. Not all of the intense, exhilarating emotions were generated by the storm. It was the man standing beside her who was responsible for most of the thrilling sensations, she thought. Somehow they went together, the night and the man.
    “You can feel the energy from here,” she said, laughing a little with the sheer pleasure of it all.
    “Yes, you can,” Benedict said.
    But he was not watching the storm. He was looking at her.
    He rested his hands on the railing, his fingers very close to hers.His wound had closed with no sign of infection, but he still moved with care. She knew he would be stiff and sore for a while. A few days ago, having concluded that he was going to live, he had requested that she return his letter.
    She told herself that she was happy to be relieved of the responsibility. But something about the small act of giving him the letter had left her feeling wistful, even a trifle bereft. The task of concealing the letter—knowing that Benedict entrusted her with it—had created a sense of a bond between them, at least on her side.
    Now that frail connection had been severed. He no longer needed her. He was swiftly regaining his strength. Tomorrow the
Northern Star
would dock in New York. Her intuition told her that everything would change in the morning.
    “I won’t be traveling back to London with you,” Benedict said. “As soon as we dock tomorrow I must take the train to California.”
    She had been prepared for this, she reminded herself. She had known that the interlude on board the ship would end.
    “I see,” she said. She paused. “California is a long way from New York.” And even