Extrait

“I suppose it’s time for a story.” Captain Norwood cleared his throat, gaining the attention of our table, including the Prescott’s, Uncle Jonathan, my chaperone Mrs. Harvey, and the wickedly enchanting Mr. Thomas Cresswell; the young man who’d won my heart as deftly as any card sharp winning hand after hand at his game of choice.

Accompanied by my uncle, Thomas and I had spent two grueling days traveling from Bucharest to Liverpool to board the Etruria before it set out for New York. We’d found creative ways of stealing kisses along the way, and each secret encounter flashed through my mind unbidden — my hands in his dark brown hair, his lips igniting flames along my skin, our…

Miss Prescott gently nudged me under the table, returning my attention to the conversation and warmth to my cheeks.

“…if, of course legends are to be believed. Mephistopheles is said to be a demon who’s in the Devil’s employ,” Captain Norwood continued. “Known for stealing the souls of those already corrupt, he’s full of magic and trickery, and he happens to be one spectacular showman. I guarantee you’re in for a week of unparalleled magic and mystery. Each night will bring a new carnival performance, never before seen. This ship will be the talk of legends, mark my words. Soon every cruise liner will host similar entertainments. It will be the start of a new era of travel.”

I raised a brow at his near reverent tone. “Are you suggesting you’ve hired a demon to entertain us and it’s sure to become all the rage, Captain?”

Thomas choked on his water and Miss Prescott shot me a mischievous grin. “Is there a church or chapel on the ship?” she asked, all round eyes and innocence. “What shall we do if we’re tricked out of our souls, sir?”

The captain lifted a shoulder, enjoying the mystery. “You’ll both have to wait and see. It shan’t be much longer now.” He returned his attention to the adults when Miss Prescott bolted from her seat, startling me and earning a disapproving glare from her father.

“One more little clue, please?”

Maybe it was the devil in me, but I couldn’t help adding, “I would hate to be so overcome with hysteria that I abandoned the ship. We’re not too far from port, are we? Perhaps I might swim…”

Miss Prescott slowly blinked in appraisal. “Indeed, Captain. In fact, I feel a bit of a fainting spell coming on this very moment! Do you think it’s Mephistopheles?” she asked, voice rising in pitch. “Does his trickery work from a distance? I wonder how many he can affect at once.”

I peered at her, leaning in as if to medically inspect her. “You do appear a bit pale, Miss Prescott. Does your soul feel attached to your person?”