The couple descended to the lowest level of first-class accommodations. Here, the dining saloon was crowded with voyagers waiting for a seat at one of the long rows of rectangular tables.
Six hundred heads swiveled in Louisa’s direction, straining to catch a glimpse of the pretty, young marchioness. Some lips whispered crudely of the spoiled American heiress who’d bought herself a title.
Would she ever again know a friendly face?
Louisa turned to the only person she knew. Surely, this was how he’d felt in New York, standing tall in a room full of jackals, staunchly fending off rumors of money-grubbing and disreputability. He must’ve been desperate. He must’ve been frightened. Somehow, through it all, he had found her.
His Lordship sensed her discomfiture. He laid his hand over hers. “It’s nothing more than piano practice—“Kinderszenen”, I recall.” He squeezed her fingers once, and then let her go. “You’ll do fine.”
She’d trained for this moment all her life. She had longed to be more than just a face in the crowd, and now she wasfacingthe crowd.
As Lord Granborough guided her toward two open seats, she reminded herself that she’d wanted this, and as with everything else in life, what Louisa wanted, she got it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The first-class dining saloon offered the most elegant meal setting on the seas. Six hundred passengers sat at tables laid with white cloth and topped with greenery. Gilded ivory paneling lined the walls, and red velvet upholstery was emblazoned with Cunard Company insignia. At the center of the space, a stained-glass dome towered some thirty feet above the diners’ heads. Guests could peer down from the assembly room above, where soft piano music played. After six months in the wilds of Fifth Avenue, he was relieved to return to civilization.
Giles led his wife through the space, noting the hushed conversation, and the gentle clink of silver, china, and glass. Diamond studs winked from starched shirtfronts and silk frocks billowed over chair-backs to pool upon the carpeted floor.
Lord and Lady Granborough found seats together at a table set for eight. The other diners stood to welcome them, and all the necessary presentations were made.
Tonight, they would take supper with Mr. and Mrs. Meyer, midwest department store owners and the richest passengers on board; Madame and Monsieur de Roubernon, a couple in their thirties who were returning to France; and the Misses Broome, two English spinsters on a Thomas Cook tour.
They all shook hands and offered pleasantries.
“Hello, how do you do?” asked the Meyers.
Next, the de Roubernons greeted them.“Bonsoir.”
“Ravie de vous rencontrer,”replied Louisa in her lovely schoolgirl French.
Giles clasped hands with his neighbors.“Enchanté.”
The Broome sisters were ecstatic to learn they dined with the most illustrious passengers on board. “Ah, honeymooners! We read of your nuptials in the paper!”
The table lifted their champagne glasses and offered their congratulations.
Louisa smiled and blushed prettily. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”
“We did wonder,” said Mrs. Meyer, sipping, “who we’d be sharing our table with. Of course, no one expects anything on the first night of a voyage. You were clever to take dinner in your stateroom. It’s more comfortable there.”
Giles leaned toward his wife to whisper, “We aren’t on the official passenger list, though the press must’ve sniffed out our whereabouts by now. Prepare yourself for vulgar questions by intrusive strangers.”
“People are merely curious. It’s harmless.” She had recovered quickly from her earlier bout of nerves. Of course, it was disconcerting to be stared at and gossiped about, and she’d face such scrutiny for the rest of her life, but Louisa wasn’t intimidated for long. Even in New York, she had endured being gawked at for her good looks and gross fortune, and supper aboardCampaniawas no different. She soon found her stride.
After champagne and canapés, the soup and fish courses were served. White-jacketed waiters buzzed around the table, dishing out food and refilling wine glasses. Though Giles drank mostly water with his meal, he enjoyed watching the other diners loosen up and settle into a comfortable round of conversation.
Louisa’s cheeks bloomed as she spoke excitedly with the de Roubernons about their home in France. “I would love to see Paris,” she said, “the real Paris, as there must be something beyond theRue de la Paix.”
Their table-mates laughed. For most young ladies, that city began and ended at the fashionable shopfronts of Worth, Mellerio, Reboux, and Doucet. He wondered what Louisa might like to see or do there—picnic in the Tuileries, cycle the Champs Elysée, or simply wander the Louvre for an afternoon. He could give her supper at Café Terminus and take her dancing in the Bal Bullier.
As if she could read his thoughts, his wife turned to him, eyes sparkling, and asked, “What about you, my lord? Have you any dreams of Paris?”
Giles knew the city well, though his visits had never been as pleasant as his fantasies. “I’ve been over many times to see my mother who lives in Neuilly, just off theBois de Boulogne.”
Louisa’s smile fell, and her eyes lost their luster. Two perfectly shaped brows furrowed into a frown, for she hadn’t known that his mother lived in Paris. Until their wedding day, he’d made certain his bride knew very little about his life.
How could he explain to the Thurston Reids that his mother was a grifter, a debt shirker, a thief? Some of Louisa’s dowry must pay Mother’s bills or the new Marchioness of Granborough would never be welcomed into the maisons and salons where she’d ordered her trousseau only a few months before.
