Night of a Thousand Stars. Deanna Raybourn

out at me. Fox, Sebastian. I yelped, earning myself a dark look from the clerk, but I blew him a kiss and asked him for paper and pencil. He sweetly obliged, and I copied out every scrap of information, the name of the ship, the date of departure, the class of cabin he had booked.

      Beckoning the clerk over, I showed him the list. “Can you tell me exactly where this ship stops?”

      Bored once more, the clerk silently handed over a slim pamphlet with the ship’s itinerary shown on a small map as well as a list of amenities and attractions. I thanked him and left, mind whirling. It was time for lunch and Masterman and I were not supposed to rendezvous until teatime. It was the perfect opportunity to take her advice and brave one of society’s favourite hotspots. I made my way to the Savoy, forcing myself to think of the rather delectable Poulard de France Dorothy instead of the stares and glares I was bound to attract. I was just about to enter the restaurant when I heard a voice behind me.

      “I don’t believe it—Penelope Hammond!”

      I whirled around, wincing a little at the sound of my name echoing through the lobby, but as soon as I saw the source, I broke into a grin. “Cubby Ashley!”

      Lord Edward Ashley, known to his friends by his childhood nickname of Cubby for his resemblance to an amiable bear, kissed me swiftly on the cheek. “It’s good to see you in person,” he told me. “The direst rumours are going round about you at the clubs.”

      “I can imagine,” I said dryly. “Don’t tell me you’re listening to such nonsense.”

      “Nonsense? My dear girl, I’ve got a fiver on you being covered in scales under all your clothes.”

      I tweaked his arm. “Ass.” But I said it with affection. “It is good to see you, too, Cubby. I do feel rather awful about the wedding.”

      “Yes, well, you didn’t just run out on Gerald, you know. There I was, all got up in my rig for standing up with him—and dashed splendid I looked, too. It isn’t every day I make the effort,” he added with a twinkling smile. Before I could speak, he darted a glance around. The lobby of the Savoy was a crowded place and we were already beginning to attract attention. “I say, Penelope, I would like to catch up. I don’t suppose you’d have lunch?”

      “Of course,” I said promptly. “But not here. I’m afraid my nerve has rather deserted me. I’ve just seen Lady Knapely walk in, and she’s one of Mother’s chums. I couldn’t bear running into Mother just now.”

      With the furtive hilarity of children on holiday we hurried out and down the street to a quiet little corner house, where we ordered quickly and settled down to the business of catching up.

      “All right, Cubby. Out with it. I know why I didn’t want to stay at the Savoy, but why were you so eager to get out of there. What’s afoot?”

      To my astonishment, the gentle giant actually blushed.

      “Cubby! You’ve got a girl,” I deduced. “And you didn’t want to be seen in public with a scandal like me in case your girl heard about it. Confess all—I’m right, aren’t I?”

      The blush deepened. “More than a girl. I’ve got a fiancée.”

      “How wonderful!”

      “Not really,” he said with a grin. “You see, Father had a bride all picked out for me.”

      I held up a hand. “Don’t tell me. Some heiress to shore up that castle of his.”

      Cubby nodded. “You know how it is. The Ashley title is five hundred years old but we haven’t a bean. The whole north tower actually collapsed last month.”

      I winced. “Oh, dear. And I suppose your father found a nice girl with pots of nice money, did he? What was she—American? Railroad heiress?”

      “South American with a squint and mouse-brown hair. And it’s not railroad money at all. Nitrate mining,” he told me between spoonfuls of soup.

      “What is a nitrate and why does one want to mine it?”

      He shrugged. “Something to do with arms. Her father made a bloody fortune in the war, which I think is quite low really.”

      I smiled into my soup bowl. “Cubby, you’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. For you to say something is low, it must have been awfully vile.”

      “Yes, well, you know how it was. I was over there in the trenches. I lost friends, more than I care to count. And to marry a girl whose father made his money that way—” He broke off, wincing. “I hadn’t the stomach for it. At least, not until you.”

      I put down my spoon. “Until me?”

      “When you had the courage to leave Gerald at the altar. Serves him right, the pompous prig.”

      “Cubby, Gerald is your best friend and your cousin,” I reminded him. “And what I did wasn’t courageous. It was the rankest cowardice.”

      “It was not,” he said stubbornly. “If you knew you had doubts, the right thing, the only thing, was to get out before it all became official. I call it good sense.”

      “Good sense, bad form,” I murmured.

      “Yes, well, society doesn’t know everything,” he said firmly.

      I tipped my head thoughtfully. “Cubby, tell me about your new fiancée. Does society not approve?”

      “It does not,” he told her. He put down his spoon and leaned forward, his eyes bright. “She’s the prettiest girl in the world. She’s kind and thoughtful, and well, I simply wouldn’t want to live if I couldn’t have her.”

      “You’re quite the romantic, Cubby,” I said, smiling. “But if she’s so wonderful, why the objections to the match? Hasn’t she any money?”

      “Not tuppence to rub together, I’m afraid. She’s the vicar’s daughter,” he said with a rueful face. “Mother is about to have an apoplexy, and Father’s threatened to cut me off without a shilling, but I don’t care. I love Gwen, and I’ll marry her or no one. It’s been the most terrible secret, utterly awful not to be able to talk about it, and you’ve always been so friendly. I feel somehow you understand that I mean to do this. I must do this.” Cubby’s chin had taken on a decidedly mulish cast, and I tried not to imagine the outrage of the Marchioness of Drumlanrig at having a daughter-in-law called Gwen.

      “I’m sure they’ll come around,” I said, certain of no such thing. But it seemed the only polite remark to make under the circumstances, and Cubby brightened noticeably.

      “But you see, Gwen is a bit uncertain of me just yet,” he went on. “She’s feeling out of sorts at how awful my family are being, and it’s made her doubt herself. If she were to find out I’d been lunching with someone as notorious as—”

      He broke off, blushing again as I gave an indignant screech. “I’m not notorious! A moment ago, you said I was courageous.”

      “And I meant it. But people do say things about you. I mean, what sort of girl leaves a viscount’s heir at the altar?”

      “And what sort of man throws over a nitrate heiress for a village maiden?” I retorted.

      But I could never stay mad at Cubby, and having at least one friend to talk to made me feel marginally less like a pariah. By the time we had tucked into large plates of apple tart with cream, we were perfectly friendly again—friendly enough that I ventured to give him an almost truthful response when he asked about my plans.

      “I mean to travel,” I told him. “I’m thinking of someplace nice and sunny. Perhaps the Holy Land.”

      He sat back, patting his rounded belly in satisfaction. “Rather a long way just for some sun.”

      “Yes, well, I’ve always been mad about Biblical antiquities,” I said blithely. “Nineveh and Bethlehem and Sodom.” At least I hoped those