Cross the Ocean by Holly Bush

Burroughs,” the man said as he approached, bowing over Elizabeth’s hand. “Lady Elizabeth.
    You look wonderful this evening. Would you be so kind as to introduce me?” he said, nodding to Gertrude.
    “Cameron Fawcett, The Earl of Dover. Miss Gertrude Finch.”
    “Mr. Fawcett.”
    Fawcett’s brows rose. “An American.” He tapped his ear. “West of the Mississippi. Possibly Chicago.”
    “How did you know?” she asked.
    “Spent a few years in the States when I was young. Wandered about everywhere. The accents are quite distinct, you know,” Fawcett said and smiled. “Would you care to dance, Miss Finch? Or I could regale you with some silly tales of my travels over punch?”
    “I would love to do either, sir,” Gertrude replied and smiled back.
    Fawcett had maneuvered himself to Gertrude’s elbow. Sanders hissed in her ear. “I thought you didn’t want to dance with any English fops?”
    “I danced with you, didn’t I?” she whispered.
    Blake grabbed her arm. “Sorry, Fawcett. Miss Finch is helping my daughter Melinda with her come-out.
    She’s far too busy,” he said.
    “Really, Sanders,” Fawcett said dryly. “Isn’t that your daughter over there with her grandmother, Lady Katherine?”
    Blake saw Melinda amidst a group of men and women, her grandmother’s hand clutching the girl’s shoulder. Before he could turn back, Fawcett had Gertrude’s hand on his arm leading her away. “Damn that man anyhow. Sorry, Elizabeth,” Blake said.
    “Such language, Blake,” Tony said smugly. “What has your cravat in a knot?”
    “We both know Fawcett’s reputation with women. For God’s sakes, Anthony, he was with us on many occasions. Do something,” Blake said as he peered over other guests trying to see the dance floor.
    “Gertrude Finch is well able to take care of herself,” Anthony said.
    “I agree, Anthony,” Elizabeth said. “She’s very modern, you know. Anyway, what could happen on the dance floor?”
    The crowd seemed to part on cue. Fawcett and Gert swung by. She was smiling and laughing at the dandy. “Look,” Blake said. “He’s got his bloody hands all over her.”
    “Really, Blake,” Elizabeth said. “I’ve only heard you swear twice in your life and both times tonight.”
    “I think it’s time we went home anyway,” Blake said. “Elizabeth is tired and Melinda need not dance with every man in London at her first ball. I’ll call for the carriages.”
    Anthony looked at him. “As you wish, Blake.”
    Anthony gathered wraps and Elizabeth went to Lady Katherine and Melinda. Blake found William amongst a group of boys his own age. The son of the evening’s host went to school with William and Blake had begrudgingly allowed William to attend. They met Melinda, Anthony and Elizabeth by the door.
    “Where’s Miss Finch?” Blake asked.
    Elizabeth looked up. “She’s staying.”
    “What do you mean she’s staying?” Blake asked.
    “Gertrude and Fawcett are telling tales about America to a growing number of guests. She seems to be quite the thing. Even with this evening’s unfortunate scene,” Anthony said. “Lady Katherine is staying with her and will bring her home in the second carriage.”
    Blake spun on his heel. He found her, them, happily laughing to a large audience. His son included. “We are leaving Miss Finch. William.” The crowd turned to him.
    “I’ll be home shortly with Lady Katherine,” she said. “Thank you though.”
    The crowd turned back to Fawcett’s Indian story, which Gertrude was claiming he embellished. “Miss Finch. We are leaving.” Anthony was suddenly by Blake’s side.
    “Come on, Blake. We need no more scenes this night. Gertrude will be home when she’s ready,”
    Anthony said.
    Anthony pulled him along, while he stared over his shoulder. In the carriage, Blake was sullen. Melinda sung along about her fabulous evening and blamed her father for cutting it short. Blake shrugged. William whispered to Anthony about