“Hasty,” I sputter. I yank off Drummer’s cap and fan my hot face with it. “We’ve been talking about going to America since we were kids. And just because I know an opportunity from a spot on the wall doesn’t make it whacky.”

He glares at me. His eyes climb to my hair, and his expression softens. “Look, Val, you’re my sister. I want a good life for you. I’d hoped a stable job in a fine home could provide that. But if you’re hell-bent on going to New York, I’ll perform for this Mr. Stewart with you.”

“You . . . will?”

His cheek twitches with a hint of a smile. “Yes, I will.”

“And I’m not ordering you to do it either, right?”

“I’m regretting this already.”

“You’re a sport, Jamie.” I resist throwing my arms around him. Finally. A bit of slack in the rope.

“So when do we meet him?”

“Well, I haven’t found him yet.” I ignore the grimace screwing into Jamie’s face. “But I know he wears a purple bowler.”

A thought seems to cross in front of him, and a laugh floats from his mouth. “I’ve seen him.”

“Where?”

He folds his hands in front of him. “Charlotte hired me to walk her dog, Strudel, around the Promenade Deck. I saw a man in a purple bowler reading the paper. Charlotte says he always sits in the same chair on the starboard side.”

The fact that Jamie has seen Mr. Stewart nearly bypasses my brain. “She—Charlotte—hired you to walk her dog? I thought third-class passengers weren’t allowed on the upper-class decks.”

“She got permission. Apparently, I’m the only one who can calm that poodle. Dogs get seasick, too, you know.”

“When does this walking happen?”

He glances at a clock on the wall. It’s nearly one o’clock. “Soon.”

“Does she know about your acrobatic ability?”

“We might have talked about it a little.”

“Huh.” He doesn’t breathe a word about our acts to the lads he has lived and worked with, but when a hen comes pecking, the rooster’s all crow. “Does she know about me?”

He lifts one of his well-shaped eyebrows. “Aye. What are you up to?”

“Would Charlotte help us with a little ruse?”

“Maybe.”

“Can we trust her?”

“I think the harder question is, will she trust us?”

I guffaw. “She can trust me. You’re a strange cove she just met. I wouldn’t trust you.”

He sighs and his face becomes serious. “Val, I need you to understand. Even if we do get to perform for Mr. Stewart, I’m not going to America.”