Jacquie D’Alessandro: Whirlwind Affair

The second book in the Whirlwind series, 2002

A shiver snaked down Alberta Brown's spine, and she gripped the Seaward Lady's wood railing. Hoping she appeared outwardly calm, she quickly scanned her surroundings.

Crewmen shouted to one another, laughing as they tossed thick ropes and adjusted sails in preparation for the ship's imminent arrival in London. Voices from the bustling English port drifted over the tangy sea-scented air, blending into an indistinguishable hum. Passengers stood in clusters around the ship's rail, chatting in excited tones, grinning, waving to people on the docks. Everyone appeared perfectly normal and eager at the prospect of stepping on dry land after nearly three months at sea on the voyage from America. No one's gaze appeared fixed upon her.

Still, she could not dismiss the eerie sensation of menace. The weight of someone's stare surrounded her like a shroud. Her heart thumped in slow, hard beats, and she forced herself to draw a deep, calming breath and return her attention to the nearby active port. / am perfectly safe. No one is trying to hurt me.

She prayed to God it was true.

Yet she couldn't banish the sick feeling that it was not. She glanced downward at the froth tossed upon the hull as the ship cut through the gentle waves, and her stomach turned over. Dear God, less than three hours ago she'd fallen into that indigo water…

A shudder passed through her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. The shock of being shoved from behind, falling… falling, desperately clawing the air, frightened cries ripped from her throat, cut off when chilly water closed over her head. She would be forever grateful to the trio of barking dogs who'd alerted a quick-witted crewman to the accident. Yet in spite of his fast thinking and her swimming ability, she'd nearly drowned.

The accident. Yes, that's what everyone was calling it. An improperly secured winch had swung around, catching her between the shoulders, propelling her over the side. Captain Whitstead had reprimanded the entire crew.

But was it really an accident? Or had someone purposely unfastened the winch and pushed it toward her?

Another tremor edged through her, and she sternly told herself it was merely due to the fact that her hair remained damp under her bonnet. Yet she could not ignore the fact that her near-tragic tumble into the sea was not the first strange incident to befall her on this voyage. First had been the inexplicable disappearance of her silver wedding band. Had she lost it-or had it been stolen? While the piece held no great monetary value, she sorely missed the sentimental token, as it was a physical reminder of what she'd had… and what she'd lost.

Then there was that headlong flight down the stairs, which thankfully had not resulted in any broken bones, although the painful bruises marking her skin had taken weeks to fade. She'd felt a shove… common sense told her it was merely an accidental jostle, yet she couldn't dismiss the feeling that she'd been pushed. And what of the mysterious stomach malady she'd suffered last week? No one else had been ill. Could someone have tampered with her food?

But why? Why would someone wish her harm? She'd asked herself that question dozens of times, yet could not arrive at a definite answer. She wanted to believe she was perfectly safe, but an inner voice warned her that the possibility she wasn't was all too real. Had some threat from the past followed her to England?

She glanced around again, but noted nothing amiss. Her unease abated a bit and she gave herself a mental shake. The ship would dock in less than an hour. She'd simply melt into the crowd and disappear into the anonymity offered by a large city. No one knew her here. No one knew…

Her gaze lowered, riveting on her black mourning gown, the stark bombazine rippled by the brisk breeze. An image of David's warm smile flashed through her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to ward off the onslaught of pain that thoughts of her late husband still brought, even now, three years after his sudden death. Dear God, would the ache squeezing her heart ever cease? Would she ever truly feel whole again?

Her fingers involuntarily drifted over the material of her gown, while in her mind's eye she pictured the small item hidden beneath the voluminous folds, sewn into the hem of her petticoat. To keep it safe. And always close to her. Especially after the unexplained disappearance of her wedding band. This is the last leg of my journey, David. After I right this last wrong, I'll be free.

" Alberta! There you are. The boys and I have been searching for you everywhere!"

Allie turned toward the familiar, imperious voice, grateful for the interruption of her disturbing thoughts. Baroness Gaddlestone approached Allie with a vigor that belied her plump figure and sixty-three years. Of course, part of the reason for the baroness's brisk pace was the three energetic Maltese straining at the ends of their leads. "The boys," as the baroness referred to her furry brood, dragged their mistress along as if they were mighty oxen and she were a produce-laden cart.

Pushing her worries firmly aside, Allie crouched down to receive the enthusiastic yip-filled greeting the small balls of fluff bestowed upon her.

"Edward, behave yourself," the baroness scolded as the smallest of the trio dampened Allie's face with joyful kisses. "Tedmund! Frederick! Cease at once!"

The boys blithely ignored their mistress, as was often the case when they were excited, but Allie enjoyed the dogs' noisy confusion. Indeed, she owed them a debt she could never repay. Their insistent barking had alerted the crewman when she'd fallen overboard. She therefore quite willingly overlooked their individual bad habits and focused on their undeniable charm. What did it matter that Edward was fond of marking every bit of wood and rope within his reach as his own? Of course, on a ship, this kept the small dog quite busy, and he fell into his doggie bed each night completely exhausted.

And how could she fault Frederick 's predilection for nipping ankles when he'd all but dragged her rescuing crewman to the rail while his brothers barked themselves hoarse? Her gaze found Tedmund, who had wandered several yards away to engage in his favorite activity, this time with a discarded pile of rags. Oh dear. She had tried on numerous occasions to explain to Tedmund that it was not polite to try and make puppies with anything other than a female dog-and then, only in private-but Tedmund remained unrepentant.

After discreetly removing Tedmund from the pile of rags, Allie doled out equal parts of affection for all three dogs, then stood and gazed down at their prancing antics. "Sit," she commanded.

Three canine bottoms instantly settled on the deck.

"You simply must explain to me how you do that, my dear," the baroness said, her voice tinged with exasperation. "I’ve been unable to calm them since I told them we were arriving home this morning. You know how anxious they are to run in the park." She beamed a smile at her babies. "Don't worry, darlings. Mama promises to bring you for a nice, long walk this afternoon." The boys' tails swished across the deck like a trio of mops at the happy news.