Even Mrs. Lorna managed to knit and chatter through their journey. Erran spent most of his time in the engine room, discussing machinery, Celeste assumed. He’d returned to his tight-lipped, grim state, and she had to admit, he had reason to do so. He thought he had to marry her. She supposed she ought to agree. But she was just discovering who she could be on her own. She didn’t really want a man shutting the door on her world again, especially if she would soon have the means of supporting herself. But the child deserved a father—if it survived. Celeste was well aware that many babes were lost in the first few months. Her own mother had lost several. And she could have just been dreaming that strange night when the spirits had walked the halls. She shouldn’t act in haste. She tried to smile normally when the ship docked and Erran came to fetch her—she needed to remember to call him Lord Erran now that they were back in society. His frown as he assisted her and Mrs. Lorna into a coach helped her keep her equilibrium.
