“You and the Magruders are business rivals, and the magazine editor may suspect you have an ax to grind. They’re more likely to be favorably disposed to me because I work for the Department of Agriculture. Good Housekeeping has been working hand in hand with the department in the interest of protecting consumers. I think you should let me take the lead.”

She was right. As much as he wanted to pull into the nearest port and dump her ashore, Annabelle had a better chance of getting through to the editors of the magazine than he did, and Good Housekeeping’s rigorous, impartial testing in their experimental kitchen would be a godsend. Hadn’t he been looking for a means to police the food industry without government interference?

But it would mean working alongside Annabelle. Every moment would stir painful memories, but he’d endure it for Luke.

Gray didn’t need Annabelle’s help for the first two days in Boston. He let her cool her heels in port while he worked alone, meeting with newspaper editors and presenting them with two jars: one with the original label the Magruders had already released into the market, and the other branded with Luke’s label accurately reflecting its contents. The hope was to spark public reviews and commentary in the press. A few people had been appalled, but most were either amused or indifferent. Some even wanted to taste the product, and since it tasted perfectly fine, they weren’t prepared to condemn the Magruders. Indeed, one editor went so far as to say the Magruders should be congratulated for developing a tasty and inexpensive alternative to real applesauce. Gray angrily replied that he knew of a wedding in Philadelphia the man might like to attend.

The real prize, the magazine with the largest national circulation and their most likely ally, was Good Housekeeping. This was where he’d need Annabelle, but he dreaded the prospect of being alone with her for the three-hour trip to Springfield, and he turned to Captain Haig for help.

“I’m not going to be your chaperone!” Haig groused, making Gray wish his employees didn’t feel quite so free to vent their opinions. They’d been holed up in the ship’s mess hall since dinner more than an hour ago, and Haig had put a healthy dent in a bottle of brandy while Gray nursed willow bark tea.

Gray pasted a pleasant expression on his face and tried again. “I need you to accompany me and Annabelle to Springfield. It is a three-hour train ride, and I refuse to be alone with her.”

“And that doesn’t say ‘chaperone’ to you? Duenna? Matronly protector? Gray! The woman is barely five feet tall and is as terrifying as a chipmunk.”

She terrified him. “I refuse to be alone with her, and Otis will be delivering samples to the newspapers and culinary critics. That leaves you.”