Melly agreed. "That she would. Miss, I don't mind returning to England, no matter what the hurry to catch the ship. I look that forward to it. I do."
Thea smiled. "I'm glad."
"I don't look forward to sailing, though. I was that sick the entire journey here. Your mother had her sainted hands full caring for you and me both."
Laying her hand on Melly's arm, Thea smiled. "I'll take just as good care of you. And perhaps you won't get so sick this time. It's been many years."
Melly crossed herself. "I can pray, miss."
Drake and his men finished hauling the boiler over the side of the ship. They would set sail and reattach the boiler en route. Turning back to the rail, he scanned the bay. No managing female in a small dingy anywhere in sight. She had not made it after all. He chided himself for believing she would.
Thea was intriguing. She was unique. She enticed him as no other woman had, but she had proven that she was not that different from other ladies of his acquaintance. Even if she was more stubborn. In the end, she had needed more time than he could spare to prepare herself.
The captain gave orders to raise anchor. Drake stifled the urge to ask him to wait as he scanned the bay one more time for any sign of the determined female. He resolutely turned from the bay and stopped in shock
at the sight that met him. Thea stood conversing with his sailors while examining the boiler. She had changed her dress and now wore a bright yellow gown of India cotton. The matching parasol tilted at a negligent angle that he was certain did little to protect her skin from the sun.
The sailor speaking to her wore a look of besotted enchantment and a smile that would make most ladies cringe. What teeth he had left were as yellow as her dress and his whiskers were stained with tobacco juice.
Thea did not appear adversely affected. The hand not holding the parasol moved with animation as she spoke. "It's so large. The engine must be huge. Could I see it, do you suppose?"
"Passengers are not allowed in the engine room." He knew even as he spoke the words that she would attempt to find some way around them.
She raised her gaze to meet his. "Hello, Mr. Drake. Isn't there any way you could make one small exception? After all, the first mate allowed a group from shore to see the engine."
He would ask the captain to talk to the first mate later. He didn't like the thought of strangers poking about the engine when it was in a state of disrepair. That engine had to help carry them back to England in record time.
Thea went on in a persuasive tone, "I should so like to see it, and the machinery attached to the paddles. Do your paddles collapse for swifter sailing like the Savannah's?"
"Yes."
Her eyes lit with interest. "How does the engine work? Do you keep the boiler stoked at all times? What caused it to blow? What type of wood are the paddles made from?"
She stopped speaking when the sailors laughed, her skin going pink.
Drake moved forward and took her arm. "I would be pleased to answer your questions over dinner this evening, but right now I must see to the engine repair."
She bit her lip, her hesitation unmistakable. "Are we to have dinner together then?"
How long had she been aboard? Long enough to hear the story of his background and determine not to be seen in his company? With her voracious curiosity, it was possible. Ruthlessly forcing down his disappointment, he said, "If you would prefer not to, of course I understand." He turned to resume the move of the boiler, but her words arrested him.
"It's not that. My maid, Melly, gets seasick and I don't want to abandon her if she needs me."
He nodded, unwilling to acknowledge his strong sense of relief. He could not allow this woman to become important to him. He needed to focus on his goal of reaching Liverpool in five short weeks—a nearly impossible task, one that would be even more difficult if he allowed himself to get sidetracked by an intriguing female.
"A place will be set for you at the captain's table. If you are not there, we will understand why." As the owner of the ship, he shared the captain's table for all formal meals. It was expected of him and he enjoyed the man's company.
"That isn't necessary, truly."
Why did she insist on arguing with him over every little thing? She should be grateful. Passengers vied for a place at the captain's table. Not only was it prestigious to be chosen to dine with the captain, but fond mamas with unmarried daughters also vied for the opportunity to bring their offspring to Drake's attention. "I will instruct the steward to seat you beside me."
She did not look grateful. She looked irritated.
Pulling her arm from his grasp, she swung her body and parasol around to face him squarely. "Mr. Drake, I appreciate your offer, but I must decline. I should feel very badly leaving an empty place at the captain's table."
"I will send someone to sit with your maid should the need arise so that you will not concern yourself about leaving a vacant seat." He didn't know why he was being so insistent, but the thought of her sitting at another table sharing conversation with the male passengers gnawed at him.
She blew out a breath in exasperation. "Thank you."