Free The Ice Captain's Daughter by S.G. Rogers

until he was sure he’d lost Sam altogether. Breathing hard, George slowed into a stroll, wiped his brow, and straightened his new clothes. He’d reached a nicer part of Liverpool and didn’t want to be stopped by coppers or mistaken for a scoundrel.
    Betsy was sitting next to the window, knitting, when he entered their room. A look of anxiety crossed her face when she saw his disheveled state.
    “What’s wrong?”
    George tossed his bowler hat onto the bed and flopped into a chair.
    “I saw Sam.”
    She gasped. “What happened?”
    “I ran, of course. I don’t think he trailed me here, but he won’t stop scourin’ Liverpool until he finds us.”
    “Did ye get the tickets?”
    “There’s nothin’ but first class tickets left on the S/S Belgenland , Betsy. We can’t afford two, and the next ship won’t leave till July.”
    Betsy’s eyes filled with tears.
    “Now, lass, let’s have none of that.” He leaned forward. “Here’s what we’re goin’ ter do. I’m goin’ back ter the ticket office and buy ye first class passage to Philadelphia. The ship leaves in a few days and we can hide from Sam until then.”
    “But, George, what about ye?”
    “Ach, I’d only weigh ye down, Betsy. Here ye are, lookin’ all fine, like a real lady. Even in this new suit, I can’t pass for a flash toff.”
    “Georgie, we were goin’ ter stick together!”
    “Truth be told, darlin’, I never wanted to leave England. Don’t worry about me. I’ll go back ter the East End and make my way somehow. Maybe I really will take ter the stage. Ye can write ter me when ye get settled in America…if ye ever learn to write.”
    With a wink and a nod, George reached out his hand to his sister. Crying, Betsy grasped his hand as if she would never let it go.

Chapter Seven
    Bleak House
    S EVERAL H ATBOXES L AY O PEN on Jillian’s bed, revealing merry bits of colored straw, feathers, and ribbons fashioned into concoctions designed to catch a gentleman’s eye. Jillian sat at her dressing table with one such creation on her hair. She cocked her head to one side as she gazed into the mirror, trying to decide which was the most fetching angle to wear her new three-cornered Marquis hat.
    Aunt Letty’s maid tapped on her door. “Excuse me, miss. A Sir James has come to call.”
    “Thank you, Alice.” Jillian handed her the Marquis hat. “Could you put this away for me?”
    As she descended the stairs to the drawing room, Jillian sought to remember where she’d met a Sir James. Fortunately, she recognized him right away as one of the young men she’d met during her ride on Rotten Row.
    “Jillian, Sir James informs me that Miss Watkins has already introduced you,” Aunt Letty said.
    “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Roring.” He gave her a bow.
    Jillian returned his bow with a curtsy. She lowered herself into a chair, and he resumed his seat on the horsehair sofa.
    “I was just telling Mrs. Marsh how fortuitous it was I should happen to see you both out shopping earlier today,” he said. “My club is on Bond Street.”
    “Ah, yes, this morning my aunt took me to one of the best milliners in London. We lunched afterward at the Empress ladies club on Dover Street. I had a lovely time.”
    “I’m so glad.”
    Sir James spent the next few minutes recommending various merchants and places of interest around town. Exactly fifteen minutes later, he took his leave. Aunt Letty waited to speak until after the front door had closed.
    “It seems you’ve made an impression, Jillian. Sir James never would have called upon me if you were not here. Do you like him?”
    “He is amiable.” Jillian paused. “Erm…perhaps I should have mentioned before, Sophia and I also met Mr. Logan in the park yesterday.”
    “What?”
    “Don’t be concerned, Aunt. He and I both behaved as if it was our first introduction.”
    “That is not the reason for my surprise. I can’t help but wonder why Mr. Logan would travel to town unless