on it, and now that puddle of wetness was seeping through her skirt. And meanwhile her champagne bottle rolled away from her, and the door under the brass map room sign swung open, and Vida could see there was nothing to stop Fitzhugh Farrar, with whom she had been so arch and charming the night before, from seeing her in this abject position.
She did her utmost to effect a smile.
But the smile did not hold.
The young man who filled the frame was not Fitzhugh. He was nobody.
Vida propped herself on her elbow, wincing at the pain spreading over her left flank, while the nobody in the doorframe did not move to help her up.
“Hello,” she said hotly when it became obvious that he was not going to say anything at all.
But he did not reply in kind. “Comfortable down there?” he asked in a tone that did not seem exactly curious about her well-being. He leaned the long whip of his body against the frame and crossed his arms, neither moving to help her nor closing the door, so the humiliation that had already begun to rise in Vida’s throat began to heat, and swirl, and become anger. Unlike nearly every other man on the boat, who, rich or poor, had chosen either their best for the occasion or a starched uniform, this man was wearing a threadbare shirt that was neither white nor brown but somewhere in between, and rolled trousers, and a wool cap. His arms, where they were not covered by his old shirt, were sun-dark, and his eyes were so black that she could not read them. He had long eyelashes, and a long face in which his big features were somewhat askew.
“What is it?” called a voice within. The same commanding and precise voice that had told her many tales last night and then shut up to hang on her every word.
“Same puddle, different girl with a twisted ankle,” the nobody called over his shoulder. Several seconds passed and she did not hear the commanding voice again. “Want to see her? I don’t think it’s anything you need trouble yourself with.”
Well, this Vida could not have. She could not have anyone going around implying that she was like the nitwits who apparently risked life and limb just to have a few moments with Fitzhugh. She had had his attention for most of the previous evening, and was herself the sort of creature that men were often making fools of themselves just to meet. With little grace but much determination she arrived on her feet so that the nobody could see that her ankle was just fine. Her pride ached, but she would not let this nobody see that.
“You’re a real gentleman,” she said aridly.
“I am sorry,” he said, and extended a hand—to what purpose, she had no idea, as she was already on her feet—and, when she did not accept it, his fingers did a graceful little flourish through the air. “Girls are always slipping and falling here, you see—I’ve gotten a little used to it, and sometimes forget the rules. How you’re supposed to act when it happens for real.”
Vida drew herself up at this accusation. “How could girls ‘always’ be slipping and falling here? I thought this ship was brand new.”
If Vida had expected the nobody to crumble at her brilliant logic, she was destined for disappointment. He only grinned at her and maintained his amused silence.
“I am a first-class passenger on the Princess,” Vida went on. Though she let her anger show in her eyes, she brought her voice down to a hoarse whisper so Fitzhugh would not know it was she who was having this stupid spat with a nobody, “And I was merely curious to see its famous map room—there is a puddle here, as you can plainly see, so why don’t you go get a mop and do something about it?”
And with her chin high she grabbed fistfuls of her skirt and walked with as much dignity as she could summon from the site of her failure. She (she!) had failed to suavely run into the man whose interest she had believed herself to already have. She kicked the champagne bottle out of her path, but this too was a mistake. Pain bloomed in her toe and it was all she could do to not cry out before she reached the next corridor.
Three
“Oh dear,” said Miss Rosa de Hastings, one of the girls who Vida had traded dance partners