Jo Beverly by Winter Fire

to Ithaca.
    “How clever you are!” Thalia declared. “Genova is a naval officer’s daughter and has spent a vast amount of time at sea. She fought Barbary pirates!”
    “Not quite,” Genova tried to protest, but the marquess smiled fully.
    “Then you are admirably qualified for this voyage. As long, of course, as you can decide which side is Scylla, the monster who desires to eat you, and which is Charybdis, the whirlpool that seeks to suck you into the depths.”
    Without thinking, Genova glanced at Lord Ashart and caught him looking at her. Muscles deep within her contracted, and her breath shortened. In public, when separated by, perhaps, four feet!
    Someone chuckled.
    She looked quickly, her color rising, but the marchioness was chuckling at something Thalia had said. Everyone seemed in merry Christmas spirit, but Genova wanted to hint that Lady Calliope needed a warm bed.
    She hesitated to abandon Sheena, but went over to curtsy to Lady Rothgar. “Excuse me, my lady, but Lady Calliope is tired from the journey. I think she would welcome her bed.”
    Shrewd eyes took in the old lady. “Of course. We are caught up in excitement.”
    In moments a senior servant was taking Lady Calliope and her servants up the grand staircase, its banisters twined with red and green cords, while Lord Rothgar guided Thalia and Ashart toward a room off the hall.
    Scylla and Charybdis. Should she be there with Thalia or here with Sheena? She couldn’t abandon the girl now.
    “So this is Lady Booth Carew’s baby,” Lady Rothgar said. “I gather some strange story attaches.”
    Genova knew she was blushing. “My lady, I’m very sorry—”
    Lady Rothgar waved a hand. “I’m sure you could do nothing but bring the child here. Is he healthy?”
    “Yes, mylady. And the nurse, too.”
    “Then come along. We have extensive nurseries and they are already in use.”
    She turned and walked briskly toward the staircase, her heels rapping on the wooden floor like the rat-a-tat-tat of a battle drum. Genova pushed that thought away and urged Sheena after, carrying the maid’s bundle herself. At least one problem had evaporated. Sheena and Charlie were not to be thrown out. In factthey would have a place in the family’s nursery, which was very generous.
    As they climbed the stairs Genova found the bells. They hung from the cords wrapped around the banisters, and tinkled as she passed. Charming, but she could imagine the noise fraying the nerves.
    They ascended a short flight to a half landing where the steps split to left and right. As they turned to the left, Lady Rothgar said, “Why don’t you tell me some of this strange story as we go, Miss Smith? This is a large and somewhat mazelike house. It’s been added to by every generation, and the last marquess inserted corridors all over the place. I don’t
think
we’ve lost a guest, though a few have wandered for a while.”
    Genova quickly decided to keep Ashart’s part to a minimum. Scylla and Charybdis didn’t need any more problems. She began with the encounter with Lady Booth Carew. Then, as they walked down a long, carpeted corridor hung with works of art and set with tables and chests holding treasures, she framed Ashart’s later arrival as coincidence.
    “How very intriguing.” The marchioness turned right into another corridor. “Odd, however, to abandon the baby with strangers.”
    “Indeed, my lady.”
    Her hostess stopped at another junction. “Is Ashart the father, do you think?”
    Genova abandoned pretense. “He insists not.”
    “He was Lady Booth’s lover about a year ago, which would make it possible.” Lady Rothgar glanced at her. “Perhaps I shouldn’t speak so frankly of such matters to an unmarried lady.”
    “I’ve spent most of my life in seafaring circles, Lady Rothgar. I’m not easily shocked.”
    The marchioness smiled. “As my husband said, you should fit in here excellently. But I must tell you that I choose to go by my own title of