Reckless. Beth Henderson

only to listen to the farfetched tales they told over dinner to realize the last. They were fortune hunters. Dazzling young, unsuspecting women was part of their trade.

      How had they come to be aboard the Nereid? Had they pooled their funds, plotted their current course, determined to, between them, seduce at least one wealthy young woman into plighting her troth before the ship reached England? Which of them would it be who requested the captain perform a wedding service while still at sea? And who would be the victim bride? Miss Carillo? Her parents doted in equal measure on the unscrupulous pair. The fact that the Carillos merited inclusion at the captain’s table was like waving a red flag before the likes of such men. Only passengers of a certain status were awarded the pleasure of Kittrick’s company. More often than not, that status was given to the very wealthy. Or the titled.

      No wonder Blackhawk was claiming to be a baron! It enabled him, and Deegan as his associate, to be placed in a position that allowed them to meet only the richest women aboard, be they young heiresses or lonely widows.

      Hildy’s pursuit of the baron would no doubt slow down his courtship of the impressionable Miss Carillo, but Dee-gan would have all the opportunity single-minded determination could afford. She should warn the young woman’s mother.

      Wyn glanced to where the lady in question sat, her face aglow as she surveyed the guests. It seemed doubtful that Mrs. Carillo would give due merit to any warning issued by another woman. She was too enthralled to be among the elect company.

      Which meant the Carillos’ money was new money. They would squander it in Europe, likely buying whatever they wished. Wyn had little doubt that a husband for their daughter headed the shopping list. It had been the reason a good many wealthy American families had gone abroad.

      And if such were the case, the Carillos might as well take Deegan, Wyn thought. At least he wasn’t as bad as some of the cads she had had the misfortune to meet.

      “Would you care for more wine, Wyn?” Deegan asked.

      “No, thank you,” she murmured coolly.

      He grinned at her fondly, then turned to his right to offer the same service to the blushing Miss Carillo. The young woman’s murmured answer was lost as her mother tossed table etiquette to the winds and leaned forward to claim his attention.

      “This is all so exciting!” she gushed. “I do wish you would tell me of the adventures you and Lord Blackhawk shared in the Amazon, Mr. Galloway. I know Mr. Mosby is interested and my precious Susanne is quite breathless in anticipation, aren’t you, my dove?”

      Mr. Mosby, looked disconcerted. Miss Carillo colored even more brightly in confusion but leaned a bit nearer so as not to miss one of Deegan’s dulcetly dropped words.

      “In Mexico, my dear lady,” he corrected. “I haven’t the stamina that a trek up the Amazon entails. Dealing with bandits in the mountains of Sonora was quite chilling enough.”

      “Bandits! Good heavens!” Mrs. Carillo gasped. “However did you get involved with them?”

      Wyn listened with half an ear as Deegan spun out a tale that she was quite sure he made up as he went along. Since he worked Blackhawk into the scenario, she wondered if the two men would meet later to coordinate their stories.

      Blackhawk, she had found as the captain drew him out, told just as hair-raisingly improbable tales, a good many of them featuring Deegan as his companion in arms. Of course, he was far less sensational in the telling than the dramatic Galloway. She felt it had something to do with the baron’s delivery. The adventure, when retold in the careless, drawling affectation he had assumed at the captain’s appearance earlier, took on the mantle of a tedious trial endured with a stiff upper lip. She was quite sure that, like Deegan’s tales, not a single word bore the least resemblance to the truth.

      “You hid from savages in a cave overnight, then in the morning discovered a fabulous vein of gold ran directly above your head?” Hildy demanded, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement as she gazed at Blackhawk. “Did you immediately file a claim, my lord?”

      “Bother the gold,” Captain Kittrick snorted. “However did you escape the savages?”

      Wyn sampled her soup and let the conversation wash over her.

      She should have been prepared. Having Blackhawk at the captain’s table practically insured that the company would be agog. She’d seen her keenly republican neighbors in San Francisco become overnight royalists when a traveler with an old-world title arrived in the city. It had happened again that evening as the captain made the introductions. He’d barely let Blackhawk’s name trip from his tongue before Mr. Mosby, the young man seated next to Miss Carillo, had stammered that he’d heard of the baron. Even Blackhawk’s sardonically lifted eyebrow had not stemmed the flow after that. Eyes aglow with something like hero worship, Mr. Mosby had asked about a mine in Brazil. That had put Mr. Carillo in mind of a rumor of a rail line Blackhawk was said to have been involved with founding somewhere in Mexico. Mrs. Carillo remembered hearing a friend tell of an incident involving the Blackhawk name in Egypt a few years ago, although she had not been able to bring the details readily to mind. Hers had been the only statement that neither Blackhawk nor Deegan had seen fit to expand upon thus far.