South America, 1924

Money. That's what everything revolved around, all over the world. With the horrors of the Great War behind them, the world ran best for those who had the means to steer their own course. Even exploring untouched lands needed backing, the money of those too rich to bother with the work pouring into the wildernesses of Africa and South America in the form of strong, rough men and their compatriots forging through dangerous beauty to lay claim to the land in the name of men who would never even see it. There were plenty such men for hire, flies to honey when the moneybags themselves deigned to visit the very edges of such places, but even those men drew the line somewhere.

Lady Eleanor Howard was beginning to realize that her purpose in Georgetown, Guyana, might be more easily made right with the absence of her cousin, Sir Walter Harville. Since their arrival by boat four days ago, Sir Walter had managed to offend seven of the explorers she had hoped to hire as guides simply by looking down his nose at them. She couldn't help wondering if they understood, upon leaving, quite why she was so eager to go on this trip herself. Walter certainly didn't, but he had insisted he would not allow her to go further than the outskirts of Georgetown with any man he deemed unworthy of protecting her. Given her private opinion of her cousin as a man who couldn't protect her from a particularly lethargic mouse, she didn't trust his opinion on the matter anyway.

Finally, however, she'd had enough of waiting for those he considered suitable to come calling and be offended by his behavior. She had waited until Walter had gone to discuss his own business interests with his factor here in the city, and taken the advice of the porter who had given her directions when she had first arrived. Admittedly, she had never been in a saloon before, but it was certainly an interesting sort of place, if smokey and a little ....rough around the edges. She was also aware of eyes on her as she made her way to the bar - an English lady, dressed as such, her boots sturdy but heeled, brown hair caught up beneath a wide-brimmed hat, her clothing well-made but clearly not designed for the climate here. She looked like easy prey to a lot of eyes in there.

"Excuse me?"

The barman turned, looking her over as Eleanor smiled politely.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but I wonder if you could help me," she said, opening her folded clutch to withdraw a small piece of paper. "I'm looking for a gentleman ....Mr. J. Marshall" I believe he can be found here?"

There was a snort somewhere down the bar at the mention of that name or perhaps at the lady's appearance in such a place as this. A snort from a tall man, partially masked in shadow, who was currently refilling a glass with some amber-colored liquid from a bottle that looked like it was already half-empty.

The barman glanced briefly along the bar before turning his eyes back to the lady in front of him. "Never heard him called a gentleman," he said easily enough. "What's the reason for your call, ma'am?"

Eleanor tucked the paper away, smiling happily at the answer, despite the dirt, grease, and general grime of the place itself. "Business, sir," she answered with calm certainty. "I wish to engage his services. I wonder, could you tell me if he is here?"

The barman glanced along the bar again. "Could be," he said evasively. "Who's asking for him?"

"Oh! Lady Eleanor Howard," she told him. "May I wait for him here?"

"Bloody hell," the shadowy figure murmured from down the bar before picking up that glass of amber-colored liquid and draining it. He didn't bother to step forward to introduce himself or to offer assistance, content to merely watch for now. He'd heard some high-born woman from England had arrived, looking for a guide, along with her stuffy companion.

"Wait all you like," the barman shrugged. "Drink, ma'am?"

Eleanor hesitated, her own gaze now flickering along the bar to the shadowy figure who had used coarse language in response to her giving her name. "I wonder, do you have any tea?" she asked politely.

The barman managed not to laugh. "No, ma'am, that's not the sort of thing you drink in a bar," he told her. "Could do you a Rickey."

She blinked, bewildered. "And what is that?"

Was she really that naive" A woman like that would never survive here without someone to guide her, but that wasn't his problem. What was she doing here anyway'

"You should go home." The voice came from the man who stood just a few feet away, cloaked in shadow. "This is no place for a lady."

Something in the tone of that voice stiffened her back, though she did not respond to it. "A Rickey, then," she agreed with the barman. "Thank you."

"Sure, sure." As the barman moved along the bar, he took the bottle away from the shadowed figure. "Pay your tab," he muttered on his way past.

The man grumbled in annoyance, but reached into a pants pocket to toss a few crumpled bills on the bar, too proud to ask for charity. There wasn't much point in lingering once his supply of liquid courage dried up, and though it wasn't any of his business, he didn't like the idea of leaving a lady alone in a place like this.

"Where are you staying?" he asked, as he stepped into the light, revealing a handsome, but somber face with blue eyes and short hair that was somewhere between blond and brown. "I'll take you there."

Eleanor hesitated, her eyes widening as she looked up at the figure she had assumed to be much older and far less ....arresting to look upon. "Thank you, sir, but I am waiting for someone," she told him politely. "I am sure I shall be quite well looked after until his arrival."

He spoke with a distinctly English accent, much like hers, though they were both far from home. "Yes, I know. You're waiting for Captain Marshall," he said, though she had not mentioned a rank of any sort. "You might as well come with me then," he said, though he didn't say whether he knew the man or just knew where to find him.

Folding her hands in front of her, Eleanor's expression showed a surprising flicker of strength. "I am not in the habit of going anywhere with men I do not know, sir," she informed him. "And I feel I must tell you that my whereabouts are known by several people today. If I do not return, they will know where to look."

He frowned, feeling a stab of sympathy for her that he was trying hard to ignore. "Three years is a long time to go missing," he said, though he understood her desire for closure, and he suspected it wasn't entirely financial.

"Too long, for my mother," she said, a gentle sort of mask falling over her expression, hiding whatever she felt about what she wasn't saying aloud. "Will you listen to my proposal, Captain Marshall, or must I endure my cousin's braying foolishness and whichever criminal type he eventually procures?"

He couldn't hide the scowl from his face fast enough for her not to catch it, but it was more in response to her description of her cousin than of her situation. "I will listen, but not here. When have you eaten last?"

She glanced along the street. "Not since I broke my fast soon after dawn," she conceded. She couldn't help the way her eyes flickered up and down him, assessing his appearance with quick intelligence. "Might we make this a business lunch, Captain Marshall?" she asked then. "I shall, of course, take your recommendation as to where."

"Someplace respectable," he said, noting the way she assessed him, and assuming she probably found him a little too rough around the edges for the restaurant in her hotel. "I know a place," he said, some remnant of nearly forgotten decorum almost causing him to offer his arm before remembering how she had already rejected him once. "This way," he said, gesturing with a hand in the direction he intended to take her.

"Thank you."

Inclining her head, she allowed herself to be steered in the appropriate direction, fanning herself with her clutch. The humid heat here in the South Americas was not what she was accustomed to in the slightest, but Eleanor refused to be cowed by it. No doubt Walter would be furious she had struck out on her own, but since he did not intend to be part of the group traveling into the Basin, she did not see why she should care.

Instead of the hotel, he led her to a small cafe where they could talk in relative privacy and enjoy a meal prepared by locals for the primarily English population who lived here. From the greeting he received at the door, it seemed he was known here and more welcomed than he had been at the saloon. He led her to a quiet table, pulling out her chair like a proper English gentleman, and taking the liberty to order them tea.

She thanked him again as she took her seat, mentally reassessing him at this display of well-bred manners while she removed her gloves. Like any well-bred lady in England, she did not remove her hat, if for no other reason than not having anywhere to put it.

"Thank you, Captain Marshall," she said, her tone softer now. "I do apologize for my tone in the street. You caught me by surprise in the saloon - no man has ever laid a hand on me without first asking my permission."

"If I may be blunt, this is not England, Lady Howard, and not everyone will acknowledge or respect who you are. In fact, we are about as far from England as you could possibly get. This is not a safe place for a woman, much less one of your station. I would suggest you return to England as soon as you are able, but I have a feeling you will not. Hence, I will listen to your proposal, but I will tell you right now that if I am to accept your offer of employment, you will need to follow my every direction without question. Is that clear, my lady?" he told her, getting that out of the way right off the bat.

She considered him for a moment. "Then, without knowing the detail, your counter-proposal is to lead this expedition of mine?" she asked, more curious than offended. She knew she was out of her depth, but she was determined to see this through. It was that or marry Cousin Walter. "Whatever you choose, captain, you should be aware that I will be coming with you. You should also know that I am not an idiot. If I were, I would have traveled straight to Manaus and hired local guides there, would I not?"

"It is not a proposal. Those are my terms. If you wish me to lead you, then do not tie my hands by putting someone in charge who does not know what he's doing," he clarified, most likely meaning her cousin. "The jungle is a dangerous place. Men do not belong there, and the jungle will do everything it can to keep its secrets. Neither I nor the jungle will tolerate fools."

Eleanor couldn't help a small smirk at his turn of phrase. "Then it is just as well that Sir Walter Harville is only here to see me off, and not to take part," she said in a wry tone, glancing up with a warmer smile as a waiter delivered a plate of sandwiches and a steaming pot of tea to their table, with all the necessary accoutrements. "Captain Marshall, you may hire such men as you believe necessary for this journey, but I will insist upon the inclusion of myself and Mr. Finley, who is to bear legal witness to whatever we discover of my father's last journey."

"I am not sure whether to think him wise or a coward," he said, eying the sandwiches, but waiting for her to take her pick first. "Who is Mr. Finley?" he asked, needing to know everything about her proposed expedition and who would accompany them before accepting the job.

"The son of my father's lawyer, a lawyer himself in all but profession," she explained, selecting a couple of sandwiches for herself before inspecting the tea pot. "Sadly, my word is not enough in this case to have my father's estate released from trust and his will acted upon. Tea, Captain Marshall?"

"A lawyer," he echoed with a frown and a sigh. A lawyer and a lady, neither of them experienced or suitable for the jungle. "How long does he have to be missing before he is legally presumed dead?" he asked, pausing a moment to add, "Please," in answer to her offer of tea. As hardened and as rough around the edges as he seemed, there was still something of the Englishman left in him.

"Ordinarily, five years following the death of his spouse and remaining brothers," she said, pouring the tea for them both as she spoke. "Unfortunately, my uncle has designs upon merging his fortune with that of my father through marriage. I am not interested in marrying my cousin Walter. I am fortunate that Dr. Finley - my father's lawyer - is very much of my opinion on this, and has not informed my uncle that my intent is to have my father declared dead and my inheritance released to me."

Jay frowned, realizing all of this was a little more complicated than what he had originally assumed. "And your cousin has agreed to this?" he asked, reaching for a cup of tea and stirring in precisely two cubes of sugar and a splash of milk. "He must not be very confident that you will be successful."

"My cousin ..." Eleanor hesitated. "My cousin is laboring under the assumption that he does not even need to ask for my hand in marriage," she said quietly. "I have not given him any reason to believe I shall ever marry him, but ....he is a fool. He agreed to this adventure in the misguided belief that once I know my father's fate, I will wear his ring and be his obedient wife."

"And if we find your father alive?" he asked. Though after three years this was doubtful, he needed to know what she'd say. Was this merely about money and power and escaping an unwanted marriage or did she truly care what had happened to her father"

"If my father lives, then I am in no danger of such a marriage," Eleanor said quietly. "You must think me very mercenary, captain, to embark on such a journey for such a reason." She glanced down at her plate, her appetite gone. "The truth, then. My mother died four months ago. I am the only child of Lord Lawrence Howard, and the first daughter to be in line to inherit his estate. But I would give up every refinement, every luxury, to have my parents alive and together again. My mother died without ever knowing what happened to my father. I promised her, and I promised myself, that I would find out and lay him to rest if I could."