Expedition of Love (5 page)

His chuckling ceased with her final remark, but she saw the challenge written clearly in his eyes. Their argument was far from over.

The first course was silently served as an uncomfortable stillness fell between her and Mr. Walters. He did not let the moment last long, however.

"Miss Peterson, I offer no offense, but women simply don't posses the intellect to comprehend the intricacies of science. The fact that you hold a degree, no doubt from some small women's college, can't possibly compare to the form of study we've undertaken. And as for your years of paleontology study, I can only assume you've done so on your father's knee and more as a spectator than a student.

I shall concede, however, that you may indeed have taken those photographs, but the mere pressing of a button at an opportune moment is hardly enough to convince me."

"I see.” She smoothed her napkin in her lap as her course of action became clear. “Are you gentlemen acquainted with the name Mary Anning?” She noted their perplexed faces, but Doctor Baxter's was far from confused. He seemed intrigued—no—pleased. How interesting.

Turning back to the graduate students, she quickly collected her thoughts. “Are you familiar with the Plesiosaur or perhaps the Ichthyosaurus?"

"Of course. Those particular specimens are a part of a first year paleontologist's study,” Mr. Anderson said, and without the obvious contempt his colleague's voice held. A fact that buoyed her confidence.

"I'm happy to hear it,” she said. “However, you don't appear to know the name of the individual who first discovered them.” She almost smiled at the boyish expression of bewilderment on his face as his spoon hovered scant inches from his mouth. Yet she refrained, as her nemesis seated beside him exuded animosity.

Mr. Walter's gaze narrowed as his lip curled with a distasteful sneer. “Are you implying that this Mary Anning found them?"

"Not implying, but stating a fact. During her life, she found and prepared not only the first Plesiosaur and Ichthyosaurs, but also many other fossils including the Pterodactylus. She has been noted to be one of the greatest fossilists ever known."

The young men chuckled.

"I am afraid Miss Peterson is quite correct, gentlemen,” Doctor Baxter said. “Although Mary Anning was not a scientist or scholar, her contribution to the world of paleontology is irrefutable. Many of her specimens sit in museums and private collections around the world."

She turned to him, quietly thrilled by his admission. “I'm pleased to hear you know so much about her, Doctor."

"She was a remarkable woman."

Their gazes held for a moment, and she grinned. He wasn't such a stuffy old poop after all. Perhaps he did indeed fear for her reputation and wasn't the arrogant ass she'd accused him of being.

"Well, I for one, think she was merely lucky,” Mr. Walters said. “Or perhaps she had guidance. Male guidance."

She sighed with regret as she pulled her gaze from the doctor's. She would have liked to speak further with him, but a more pressing issue sat on the table. The classic battle of man against woman.

Although other people seemed intrigued by the perpetual feud, she was quite fatigued with the entire thing. Everywhere she went she was forced to prove herself to be an intelligent human being. The horrendous encounters almost made her wish she could be the empty-headed female men like Geoffrey Walters believed her to be. Ignorance may be bliss, for some, but she was far from ignorant.

"By your statement, sir, I can only assume you believe women are not only incapable of cognitive thought, but should be protected and looked after,” she said, her voice turning cooler. “Like sheep,” she added.

"Oh, Lord. You're one of those suffragettes."

Her hackles rose against the obvious disgust in his voice. “I am a strong proponent of the suffrage movement. I believe that women should have the right to govern their own lives, Mr. Walters. A right you were born with simply because of your sex.” She tasted her soup and let its warmth soothe her tightening throat. She'd never been prone to tears, but when faced with such enormous prejudice, Kristina found it difficult not to become somewhat emotional.

"But these women wish to amend the constitution. You can't seriously support such an action,” he said.

Although seething inside, she remained calm, realizing that her temper would only damage her argument. “I do. Most heartily."

"What exactly is in this amendment, Miss Peterson?” Mr. Thomas asked.

"The right to vote,” Doctor Baxter replied.

She glanced to the side, almost afraid to see his expression. Did he oppose the vote for women or did he support it? She caught sight of his frown, but it didn't seem to be related to his statement, as his gaze was riveted on Mr. Walters.

A strange sense of relief settled over her, pleased that her recent discovery of how likeable he was hadn't been destroyed.

"Why on earth would women want to vote? You'd think they wouldn't want to bother with such dry stuff as politics,” Mr. Anderson said, then warily tasted his bisque.

"I happen to find politics quite interesting,” she said affably. Although her blood still boiled from Mr. Walters’ attack on her intelligence and her beliefs, his fellow student had not been as precipitous, and didn't deserve her censure.

His dark brows rose considerably, but she wasn't at all certain it was due to her statement or the fact he had discovered he liked bisque. “Really? I find it dreadfully boring. But I still don't see why women want any part of it.” He spooned his meal into his mouth with vigor.

"It's quite simple,” she said. “We are voiceless in the making of laws and the election of officers to execute them, but are expected to live by them. Men have fought for centuries for these same rights, and yet continue to withhold them from the rest of the human race. But a great deal more is involved than the right to vote, gentlemen.

If a woman marries she is treated as property. Her husband takes control of all her worldly possessions and dictates every aspect of her life, however he sees fit, and the law is on his side. We are discouraged, and often denied, higher education, and any interest in a career is seen as indecorous. As I said before, women are viewed as sheep with no thoughts or rights of their own, and yet not a one of you would be here today without them."

Doctor Baxter shifted in his chair, and she wanted desperately to see his face, but held her gaze on her adversary. Geoffrey Walters would construe her disconnection as a weakness, and that, she could not allow.

"Still, you must concede that not all women share your interests or obvious education, and could not possibly cast an intelligent vote,” Mr. Walters interjected.

"I will concede that not all women are as fortunate as I in having a decent education. Nor is every woman as interested in politics and government, but there are just as many ignorant, disinterested men in the United States, and yet they are allowed to vote and live their lives as they see fit."

He obviously didn't care for her opinion and appeared to be fully prepared to continue their debate, but she needed to call an end to the discussion before it did any damage to the team as a whole. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she ruined the expedition for her father. She needed to befriend these men, not alienate them.

Her temper simmering barely below the surface, she pasted on a small smile. “I realize my arguments alone will not win you over, Mr. Walters, so therefore, I propose a test."

"Kristina,” her father warned softly.

"It's quite all right, Papa. There will be no blood spilled, I promise."

He took a long breath and rolled his eyes heavenward, then motioned for their first course to be removed.

Biting back her grin, the tension vibrating inside her eased. She did love teasing him.

"What sort of test?” Mr. Walters asked.

She studied her opponent, ire evident in his eyes. “A test of logic. Am I correct in assuming that you believe women are incapable of such reasoning?"

He sat back, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. “On a detailed level, yes."

"Then I propose that Doctor Baxter present us with a problem we shall each have to solve."

His fair colored brow arched sharply. “An interesting proposition. What do you say, Doctor?"

Doctor Baxter looked back and forth between her and Mr. Walters then to her father, whose nod of affirmation sealed it.

"I shall devise a question while we eat then put it forth after dinner,” Doctor Baxter said. “Does that meet with everyone's satisfaction?"

"Thank you, Doctor. It does indeed,” she said. At least by postponing this nonsense, she could enjoy her meal and perhaps have a pleasant discussion with him. He was turning out to be a most interesting man.

"Thank you, Joshua,” she said, as one of the servants removed her soup dish, disgruntled with herself that she had been so wrapped up in her argument not to thank him earlier for serving.

Although he was in her and her father's employ, she felt that he and the other members of the crew were more like family. They had practically helped raise her after her mother's death, keeping her from getting into too much trouble when sailing on the Sweet Anita with her father.

Joshua silently nodded, but managed to slip her an encouraging wink.

Her smile fell as she noticed Doctor Baxter's curious gaze on her.

"Oh, dear.” He was far too observant, and yet she rather liked that about him. “I suppose you're wondering how I know his name."

Nodding, his bewhiskered face creased with confusion. He looked almost charming.

She turned to her father, pushing aside her nonsensical observations about the man. “I'm sorry, Papa, but it seems I've given it away."

"Quite all right, my dear,” he said, patting the back of her hand. “I was going to tell him later anyway. You see, Stephen, I am your mysterious benefactor. The Sweet Anita is mine.” He smiled softly and looked at Kristina. “And my daughter's."

"Ah, now I see,” Mr. Walters said. “This is the real reason Miss Peterson is accompanying us."

Her father snapped his head around. “I'm afraid you are in error, young man. My daughter is everything she portends to be and more. But you shall discover that soon enough.” He waved his hand slightly, dismissing the minor change in topic.

"Stephen, I hope you aren't upset in any way by this news, but I rather like the luxuries this marvelous old clipper provides. A bulky, noisy steamer just wasn't suitable to my tastes. I hope you understand."

"I don't know what to say, Edwin.” He frowned a moment as his gaze scanned the table and the room. Then slowly, barely visible if one wasn't looking, he grinned.

Kristina felt her mouth fall open a moment before quickly regaining her senses. He could be quite handsome when he smiled—well, grinned.

What would a real smile be like beneath all that facial hair? And what would he look like without his beard? She did so hate the awful things. She believed men hid behind their beards the way some women hid behind fans or beneath ridiculously large hats.

She shook her head at her fanciful thoughts. Stephen Baxter's appearance was none of her concern, no matter how interesting he seemed to be.

"I'm grateful, Edwin. Truly grateful,” he said. “I hadn't looked forward to spending a good deal of our funds on a steamer, but you must take something for your trouble."

"Nonsense, old boy. I wouldn't dream of it."

"But this must be—well, rather expensive."

Her father's eyes lit with mirth. Professors weren't known to make a great deal of money. That fact immensely displeased her grandparents when her father started courting her mother, as they were members of the privileged class. But Anita Applegate loved Father with all her heart and refused to settle for anyone else.

After her death a large part of her mother's assets went to Kristina, allowing her to live her life in any style she chose, while the remainder went to her father. Yet wealth had never filled the hole her mother's death caused. Only a few things like the Sweet Anita, shared by her and her father, helped to ease that pain. A pain she refused to ever feel again.

"Not to worry, my friend,” her father said. “I am, shall we say, comfortable.” He winked at her and lifted his glass. “I propose a toast. To Argentina, may we discover her hidden treasures."

Everyone drank then partook of a sumptuous meal. While they ate and chatted amiably, her mind wandered to memories of other trips on the beautiful clipper ship, but was occasionally brought back to the present by Mr. Thomas’ barrage of questions regarding photography. It would seem she had a comrade, but one who was a bit too eager. Or perhaps her thoughts longed to be elsewhere at the moment, back with her pleasant memories.

She was thrilled her father had arranged for them to take the Sweet Anita. It was like a second home to her. She couldn't remember a time when their excursions hadn't been special. Her mother adored sailing. Losing her at the tender age of ten had been a powerful blow, but she would forever cherish the years they had shared.

"Miss Peterson, are you not well?” Doctor Baxter asked softly.

She hadn't realized she was frowning into her cordial, remembering and missing her mother.

Forcing a smile to her lips, she lifted her chin. “My apologies, Doctor. I'm afraid I was gathering a bit of wool.” Her voice cracked just the tiniest bit, and she felt her father's hand cover hers on the table.

She looked at him with a bit of mist in her eyes. His comforting smile helped settle the ghosts of her past.

Stephen envied the loving connection between father and daughter. He wanted to share in the moment, to know what bittersweet memory plagued their thoughts, but didn't dare intrude. He possessed an exceptional relationship with his own parents, but nothing as deep as what Miss Peterson obviously shared with her father. He wondered if he would ever know that kind of love and devotion in his life.

"Have you prepared our test, Doctor Baxter?” Mr. Walters asked, breaking his unhealthy musings.

He wanted to wring the young man's scrawny neck. He'd seen how distraught Miss Peterson was by the entire debate, the tortured napkin in her lap, the slight quivering of her lips. Anger and an odd sort of pain radiated from her, but the others failed to notice. Even her father didn't seem to realize how distraught she had been.