she had let her fear and her temper get the better of her. She had no proof. All she had was the goodwill of her host and hostess, and if she did not step very, very carefully now, she would lose even that.
“Please, my lord, forgive me. I only meant that it is impossible. Frederick Chalmers was dancing with his daughter only moments before the explosion occurred. He could not have done it.”
“Are you here again, meddling in matters that don’t concern you?” Reginald Penhaven appeared to be on the verge of striking someone. She took a prudent step back. “Your lordship, this girl has already importuned me with the same ridiculous story. We don’t have time for this nonsense.”
“Claire, I am very sorry, but the evidence suggests that Alice’s father is behind this terrible destruction.” Davina’s voice trembled. “You must be brave—and so must Alice.”
“He is not!” Claire said in desperation. “And neither are those poor Esquimaux boys with him. It’s all a plot to discredit you!”
“The poor girl is hysterical,” Meriwether-Astor said, his face arranged in lines of pity, his eyes measuring, calculating. “Perhaps the medics should administer laudanum?”
“A good suggestion,” Penhaven put in.
“At least wait until morning to do … anything … and allow him to tell you himself,” she begged the earl, feeling the cold of approaching doom on her skin.
“Claire, if you do not have proof, you must see our position.” John Dunsmuir visibly controlled himself in an effort to be civil.
“I do have proof. Perhaps if we speak privately—”
“Dunsmuir, this is a waste of time,” Meriwether-Astor snapped. “I have fifty injured men, a damaged convoy, and an injured daughter, and I want to know what you’re going to do about it, since it’s clear your mismanagement of this operation has been the cause of this disaster.”
“Mismanage—!”
“I said mismanagementmanPerhaps , and I meant it. If any of those men succumb to their injuries and—God forbid—die, I am holding you personally responsible along with that Chalmers madman.”
Over by the window, she saw now, two journalists had their notepads out and were scribbling furiously. She and Alice and Lizzie had been right. Meriwether-Astor had timed his moment perfectly, for what better time to strike at the heart of an enemy than when he was staggering from a blow?
Claire felt as though she was caught in the middle of a street with two steambuses bearing down upon her. No matter in which direction she chose to run, one bus or the other would strike her.
But Lord Dunsmuir was an experienced man of the world. If he and Davina could not handle Meriwether-Astor, then no one could.
And they were not in imminent danger of being hanged, either.
For the second time in ten minutes, she made Hobson’s choice.
As a towering argument broke out between the Dunsmuirs and Meriwether-Astor, no one but a tearful Willie noticed as she gave the world’s most abbreviated curtsey, turned, and hurried from the salon.
At the bottom of Lady Lucy’s gangway, Gloria Meriwether-Astor had finally caught up to her. She brushed past the girl. “I’m sorry, Gloria, but I don’t have time.”
Gloria grabbed her arm in a grip surprisingly strong for such a languid person. “Is my father up there?”
“Yes. He is attempting to ruin my friends. You’ll forgive me if I do not have much to say to you at present. I must save a man’s life.”
“I’ll come with you.” Breathlessly, Gloria matched Claire’s pace.
“Your place is with your father,” she told Gloria with the calm of despair. “Go away and keep it.”
“I’m not responsible for what he does, you know. You don’t have to treat me like I am.”
In a sudden spike of rage, Claire swung on her. “I’m not treating you as anything at all. Much the way you treated me at school. Now get out of my way.”
In the light from the lamps on the mooring masts, Gloria’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I suppose I deserve that. But Claire, wait. I want to help.”
“You want to help?” She couldn’t control her own voice—it was shrill with impatience and fear. “Why should you, when your father has contrived to blow up the Firstwater Mine to discredit the Dunsmuirs, cover up the assassination of Count von Zeppelin, and provoke an international incident?”
Gloria’s mouth fell open. “Are you insane?”
“Not in the least. I just can’t prove any of it. So go on, take that tale back to your father and he can feel free to assassinate me, too. But while you’re about it, I