“Jamie’s the oldest born, which means he’s the most important one, and he loves the queasy seasies.” I slap him on the shoulder a little too hard, forgetting about his injury until he makes a strangled sound.

He absorbs my blow with a good-natured smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sure do.”

Suddenly, the ship seems to grip as if someone stepped on the brakes, and the room leans to port, tossing Crawford onto the bed.

Mr. Stewart raises his eyebrows at the valet. “At least you weren’t carrying the champagne.”

Crawford scrambles to his feet again. “Yes, sir.”

The bed squeaks as Mr. Stewart shifts around. “Well . . . this Wink and Olly. They’re not acrobats yet. At this point, they’d simply be extra mouths to feed.”

“Your point is taken. But as apprentice acrobats, they’ll work for free for the first six months to give everyone a chance to test things out.” Thanks to our performance, we have enough money to hold us at least a year if we’re frugal, with no rent or board to pay. “If, in the end, you are not satisfied, you will not have lost anything.”

“Except the trouble of getting you into the country.”

“You would’ve done it for the two of us.” I glance at Jamie. “What’s another name or two on the application?”

“Jamie is a more certain bet.”

I snort. “I’m afraid my brother wants to see the stars, not be one of them.”

Mr. Stewart rises, and we stand as well. He gazes at his bowler, now hung on the wall beside us, as if it were a crystal ball. “Ah, this is . . . quite irregular.”

Crawford creeps next to him and murmurs something into his ear. Is he revealing that I knew his nickname? Maybe he put two and two together and figured out that I was the imposter, Mrs. Sloane.

I squeeze my fists, feeling something slipping away. The floors seem to thrum harder under my feet, a sensation that not even the thick rugs, nor our elevation, could dampen. Life, like this ship, continues to move forward. This tiny moment, like all the other moments happening on this ship, will transform, like ocean spray, into rivulets bearing us in new directions. But if I can keep my feet planted in this moment for a little longer, maybe it’ll take me where I want to go.

Jamie nudges me with his elbow, and I follow his eyes down to his hand. He pincers his forefinger and thumb, and then makes a tiny plucking motion, as if picking a flower. A dandelion.

He glances at me, a smile lurking in his eyes. His chest lifts as he breathes. Then together, we blow a puff of air, as light as a sigh, but loud enough for the stars to hear.