“No,” he said. “It’s for her own sake.”

“Val,” Lisbeth said in a low, urgent voice. “Think about what you’re saying. She’s Ashvale’s sister. We can’t keep this quiet, even if we tried. There are too many eyes and ears, and someone will want to make a name for themselves over this. I know it. You know this. Would you put her through that?”

“I’ll reinstate my position,” he said, then he peered at her. “Would you really consider keeping this a secret? If it got out, you would be finished.”

Her pretty face went ashen, but she nodded. “My gut is saying keep this to ourselves for now. She’s a lady, Val…and a friend.”

Valentine opened his mouth to reply when something like a firing cannon blasted through the air and the entire ship rocked, a thick black plume of smoke rising from one of the funnels in the middle of the ship. Lisbeth let out a scream and grabbed hold of the railing, staring up at the mushroom-shaped cloud.

“What the fuck was that?” Valentine roared, eyes roaming the horizon for a ship that might have fired on them, but the seas were clear. “Were we hit?”

“Boiler explosion,” Rawley shouted as he ran past.

Hell, the captain hadn’t been minimizing the problems. Thank goodness they were near the French coast. Boiler explosions caused by pressure failure due to faulty valves or corrosion were common on steamships, though he knew for a fact that Ashvale took meticulous care to maintain his vessels. Or it could have been a firebox explosion in the furnace caused by vapor accumulation. Either were a possibility and both were dangerous.

Lisbeth composed herself. “I’ll go check on the passengers.”

While she took off toward the main lounges, Valentine headed back up to the captain’s deck where the man was furiously ringing the bell for the engine order telegraph and calling for dead slow. “We’ll have to reroute to Brest. It’s closer. I won’t take the chance that the metal will crack. If the cold seawater touches the hot metal…”

The captain’s voice trailed off, his face going pale. Valentine knew what would happen. Ships had sunk easily because of that. England’s coast wasn’t that far from France, but even a few kilometers could mean the difference between life and death. “Very well,” he said. “Do you know what kind of explosion it was?”

The captain huffed. “Hopefully not the sink-to-the-bottom-of-the-ocean kind, but we need to take every precaution.”

Rawley burst through the door, face purple and panting from the effort of having run back from the engine room of the big ship. “Furnace fire. Contained. For now.” He blew out a breath. “No injured.”

The relief on the captain’s face was clear. “Thank God.”