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her announcement seriously. It was her own fault. Her father was right. She had acted like a two-year-old. But it was so frustrating, not being taken seriously. Even if she hadn’t raised her voice, they still wouldn’t have changed their minds about Alan.
    And she knew why. Because neither of her parents trusted her to take care of herself and to choose her own husband. They were afraid she’d pick some handsome but grasping fortune hunter instead of someone who already had his own fortune and had no need of hers.
    I wouldn’t do that, Elizabeth told the dresser mirror as she passed it. I have more common sense than that.
    She knew why her mother worried. There had been that one boy last summer…Joshua Lawrence…but her mother had overreacted to that. It had been perfectly innocent. Elizabeth hardly knew him. Joshua worked on the ice truck that served their neighborhood. He was terribly good-looking—all the girls said so—and he was very friendly. After only two days on the job, he knew the names of everyone in the neighborhood. Elizabeth’s mother had been shocked when, as the Farrs were leaving their brownstone one day last June, Joshua had called from the back of the truck as it passed, “Mornin’, Elizabeth.”
    Perhaps that was when her mother had approached Alan Reed for the first time.
    Joshua wasn’t a fortune hunter. He was just a friendly person. It would have been rude not to return his greeting.
    But it had been impossible to convince her mother that he and Elizabeth had exchanged only the barest civilities, and nothing more. The solution, from Nola Farr’s point of view, was to marry her daughter off, as quickly as possible, to someone who didn’t need her money. Enter Alan Reed.
    Pulling a pale yellow mohair shawl from one of the dresser drawers and tossing it around her shoulders, Elizabeth left the cabin and took the stairs up to A deck. If she was going to look at the sea, she wanted to feel the cool air and taste the salt on her lips.
    It was after ten o’clock, but the open promenade was busy with strollers, many of them holding hands or linked arm in arm. The pang of wistfulness overtook Elizabeth again. How lucky they were to have each other.
    “Looking for wayward travelers in need of assistance?” a deep voice at her shoulder asked.
    She knew who it was immediately, and deliberately refused to turn her head. Her mother wasn’t around, so there was no reason to be polite. “This is a sea voyage,” she said, her voice as chilly as the air sweeping in from the vast, black ocean. The shawl was proving woefully inadequate. “So I am looking at the sea.”
    “Mind if I join you?”
    “Yes. I do mind. Very much. Go away.” The words were barely out of her mouth when she sensed his presence at her left elbow, as if she hadn’t even spoken.
    “Tsk, tsk, Elizabeth,” Max Whittaker scolded. “Deplorable manners! What would your mother say?”
    “Do you see my mother anywhere around here? I believe I’m alone. And I would prefer to stay that way.” Elizabeth remained staring steadfastly out over the glistening, flat sea. It looked smooth enough to skate on, and indeed the immense ship moved across the water with none of the rocking motion Elizabeth had experienced on other crossings.
    “Nice night. Aren’t you cold in that flimsy thing?”
    He was referring to her shawl. His comment seemed much too personal. As if her comfort were any of his concern. Perhaps if she ignored him, he would go away.
    He didn’t go away. Instead, he astonished her by saying suddenly, “So, getting married, are you?”
    Taken by surprise, Elizabeth whirled around. “No, I am not getting married! And if I were, what concern would that be of yours? Have you been asking questions about me?”
    “Your mother told me you were betrothed,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t noticed her anger. “I think she was warning me away.” He laughed lightly. “Must be the turtleneck. She disapproved. Looked at