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she got sea-worried. Thoughts of storms and sinking tended to work her into a state.
    “Shall I have tea brought, ma’am?” Berta asked.
    “Yes,” Caroline’s mother replied. “Actually, no. What if it arrives after I sleep and the commotion wakes me? Just sit, Berta, keep company with Pomeroy, and be ready to answer if anyone comes to the door.”
    Caroline smiled. That made two less pairs of eyes on her. It was unfortunate that Mama didn’t take well to the water, but as Papa always said, “Seize the day.”
    And so Caroline would … or at least the time before dinner. Then Mama would emerge from her stateroom, pale and perspiring, and insist that she join—and guard—Caroline, Amelia, and Helen during dinner at the captain’s table. Though Caroline’s room was comfortable, boasting a double bed dressed in fresh white linens, as well as a sofa and a chaise, she wanted to see the rest of the ship.
    It was now 5:30, and the steamer was well underway. Caroline took a quick look at herself in the small mirror above the room’s three fitted drawers. Her dark blue hat with ostrich trim sat straight and true. Her color was a bit high, but if she kept her eyes downcast and worked to be unobtrusive, surely she’d blend in. She fluffed her blue jacket’s fat leg-of-mutton sleeves and readied for adventure.
    After opening the door and peeking out, she stepped onto the deck. All was good. No one was in front of Mama’s room, or the twins’, the next one down. She locked her stateroom door and slipped the flat brass key into her petit point purse.
    Avoiding Mama’s room, Caroline headed toward the ship’s bow. A handful of her fellow passengers stood at the rail, watching the waves roll as the ship entered the mouth of Long Island Sound. The less brave stood back a conservative distance. Caroline slipped through a gap in the crowd and neared the rail. Above her, the Fall River Line’s blue-and-white flag snapped in the breeze. Her heart felt lighter. For the first time since she’d returned home yesterday, she felt as though she could breathe.
    The shore fell away to deeper blue-green water. If Caroline closed her eyes, she could imagine herself a thousand different places: in an Alaskan sound at the height of summer with those puffins Jack had spoken of taking flight around her, or perhaps Ireland, where a blue bay met rolling land so green that its beauty would capture her forever.
    But actual life at the rail was growing chilly and damp as the humid air sank into the fabric of Caroline’s dress. She went through the double doors amidships and made her way aft, toward the grand saloon. It seemed, though, that half the ship’s passengers had the same destination in mind.
    Instead of jostling in the hall, Caroline approached the main stairway. Its thick Turkish carpet seemed an odd mate to the Corinthian columns topped with wildly fanciful filigreed brass light fixtures that served as the stairs’ newel posts. Mama would be envious at the sight of such busyness.
    Caroline entered the gallery saloon, which looked down on the larger grand saloon. Ladies and gentlemen walked about below, watching as much as they were being watched. Some sat in chairs that lined the ornate plaster walls, whispering comments to one another as a woman in a particularly bright—and some would say unsuitable—dress strolled by.
    Even Caroline couldn’t stop herself from watching the canary amidst the quieter birds. The woman stopped and settled her hand on the arm of a broad-shouldered man who had his back to Caroline. His head dipped down as he listened to her, no doubt all ears. There was an intimacy between the two that Caroline envied.
    She knew it was impolite to gawk, but having spent the years since her debut as the subject of much gawking, she allowed herself the pleasure. The woman was of indeterminate years and quite beautiful. Her lips were the shade of blood rubies, her hair the deep color of chestnuts, and her skin an