“…I did not wish to wake you,” the girl hastily explained to her glaring Aunt Charlotte. “The dining car was full, and the waiter and this gentleman were kind enough to accommodate me…” She looked at Ghost, at a loss. “…I had not yet the opportunity to even ask his name.”

Aunt Charlotte gave her niece an openly disparaging look.

This one is no fool, Ghost could not help but think.

Mags would probably like her.

She was definitely not one of the “weak-minded fools” Maggie liked to scoff at with so much contempt, mostly to put Ghost in his place.

Aunt Charlotte certainly would not be swayed by Ghost’s more superficial charms.

She likely held no love in her heart for men of Ghost’s nature and disposition more generally. That would likely be true regardless of what she thought of the handsomeness of his features, or the unusual shade of his eyes.

Aunt Charlotte sniffed, almost like she heard him.

“Who are you, sir, that you would sit alone with a strange woman?” she asked.

Her voice was as cold as her stare.

But Ghost didn’t need this.

He smiled with utmost politeness, rising slowly to his feet.

“I am one who had already eaten, ma’am,” he said to her sweetly. “And one who intended to retire soonly to his cabin, when I saw your niece in distress. I did not see how I could leave this poor young lady alone, given the wolves who can disguise themselves among respectable passengers… and her obvious innocence of such things.”

He said it all coolly, an indifferent yet unerringly polite lilt in his voice.

“Now that her lawful guardian is here,” he added, bowing once more to the aunt. “I feel certain my duties here are finished, and my presence no longer required.”

“You will not introduce yourself at least?” the aunt asked.

None of the coldness had left her voice.

Ghost faced her directly.

The young, fresh-faced thing was forgotten by both of them.

It was a battle of nerve now, between him and the aunt.

He had a passing thought of attempting to bed her, instead of the foal.

In the end, it would likely be more interesting.

It would certainly be less boring.

He brushed the thought from his mind as he executed another perfect bow in front of her.

“Jonathan Edward Courtney, ma’am. At you and your niece’s service.” Ghost glanced at the younger of the two to smile as he straightened back to his full stature. He found her gazing up at his height with open amazement. “I confess,” he added, looking back at the aunt. “I did not catch your niece’s name, either. I focused on ordering her a drink first. As it is, I am unaware of either the familiar or the family name.”

“She is Phoebe Astley,” the aunt said primly. “I am, as you no doubt surmised, Charlotte Eustacia Astley.ViscountessCharlotte Eustacia Astley.”

Ghost felt a faint ripple of apprehension go through him.

He knew that name.

He should. He made a point of studying the names and whereabouts and connections of most of the noble families in England.

“Courtney,” Charlotte mused. “Are you from Devon then?”