“Who’s Sam?” Peony asked, frowning.

Bliss gave her traveling companion an impatient look. “He’s the man who brought you to the country—your carriage driver’s brother-in-law, or some such.”

Peony sighed. She’d been recovering steadily from her ordeal, but there was still a wan look about her and she tended to weaken easily. “I can’t be expected to remember everything,” she muttered. One of her hands tightened on the railing, Bliss noted, and the other rose to her forehead.

“You’re tired,” Bliss said quickly, taking Peony’s arm. “Come along—we’ll go to our cabin and you can lie down and rest.”

After a few words with Reeve, Bliss led Peony away. Their quarters were easy to find, being on that same deck, and Peony was soon settled into her bed for a nap. Bliss immediately went back out to explore—to keep her mind off Jamie for a little while.

When the ship set sail, Bliss was standing at the starboard railing, impervious to the brisk wind, watching New Zealand recede into the distance. Her eyes burned and her throat was thick; leaving home wasn’t nearly so grand as she’d once dreamed it would be.

A gentleman’s handkerchief was extended, and Bliss looked up through a mist of tears to see Walter Davis standing beside her. She accepted the neatly folded cloth and dabbed at her eyes. It seemed a remarkable thing that Mr. Davis should be on board the very same ship, but Bliss’s surprise faded quickly.

After all, he’d said that he and his grandfather wanted to return to Australia.

“I used to long to travel far and wide,” she confessed in a sniffle, after several minutes of sheer misery had passed. “When I lived at the lighthouse, I’d see the ships passing in the distance and cry because I wanted so badly to be aboard one. Now here I am blubbering away because I’ve gotten my wish.”

Walter’s smile was gentle. He looked as though he might have patted Bliss’s hand, had he dared to be so familiar. He nodded in response to her words and then ventured to change the subject. “That man you’re traveling with—he’s a Queenslander, isn’t he?”

Bliss had gone a long way toward composing herself. “Of sorts, I guess. That’s my husband’s brother, Reeve, and he does own a plantation near Brisbane. It’s my understanding, though, that he and his wife spend just as much time in Sydney as they do in the country.”

“Now that I think of it,” Walter reflected, his expression faraway, on the roofs of Auckland, “I recall your husband telling me that he had a brother there. It’s strange that Mr.—that Grandfather hasn’t spoken of Mr. McKenna, having considerable holdings in the Brisbane area himself.”

Secretly, Bliss was relieved that the elder Davis wasn’t a confederate of Reeve and Maggie’s; she thought him odious, though she’d never have been so rude as to say so, and would have found it a trial to have to be polite to him on a regular basis. She managed a smile and a shrug, turning her attention back to the sea.