Letting out a long breath, Cassian collapsed back against the cushion. Immediately, he began to massage his temples.
And he wondered what in God’s name was wrong with him.
Chapter Seven
Cassian
Dinner was about to begin, and Cassian was still reeling from the events that had transpired that afternoon in the First-Class Lounge. He just couldn’t make sense of them. One moment, Cassian and James had been bantering with each other, having fun, and then, once the conversation had become somewhat serious, Cassian had lost complete control of his senses, both physical and otherwise.
And then Cassian had forced James to leave, if only to prevent something unsavory from happening between them. Or at least to prevent James from seeing his erection.
Now, Cassian was left to contemplate not only the reasons for what had happened but the importance of romantic love, too, specifically in regard to its potential role in Ethel’s ongoing melancholy.
Did Ethel want to marry for love? If so, could Cassian somehow fall in love with her? Cassian’s stomach roiled, his body protesting the mere notion of it, though he couldn’t even begin to know why that might be. After all, Ethel was a lovely person. Cassian liked her. Truly. And if he needed to fall in love with her to make her happy, then surely he could manage it, no matter whether or notJames thought that such a thing could be controlled. If romantic love indeed existed, then it was Cassian’s to have, simple as that. And James had, in fact, insisted that romantic love was both real and possible. He had even claimed to have experienced it himself.
Cassian shut his eyes as a wave of nausea suddenly overtook him.
“Cassian?” Ethel asked. “Do you think Mr. Quinn will be here soon?”
“He won’t be coming,” Cassian replied, straining to keep his voice level, even though he still felt sick. He fluttered his eyes open. “He informed me that he wanted to eat in the mess hall or whatever it is on C-Deck this evening.”
Probably the man was perturbed about the whole ordeal at breakfast. And Cassian couldn’t really blame him.
“Oh,” Ethel said simply, her mood noticeably withering a little.
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Cassian promised. “Encourage him to come to breakfast. Otherwise, it might be a problem with the inquiry office. I paid extra for him to eat first-class.”
“Thank you. I... well, I hope he comes back. I can’t imagine that the food there is on par with ours.”
“Don’t worry so much. Mr. Quinn will be fine either way,” Cassian reassured her. “He’s treated far better than most other valets in other respects, even if he continues to eat with the other servants on board.”
Ethel rolled her bottom lip between her teeth.
“You’re right,” she finally said.
Cassian nodded. Of course he was.
Over the next few minutes, the pair continued to wait for Ethel’s mother. It seemed as though the woman must have become lost in her conversation with the Calbots in the reception area. Ethel began playing with her necklace. Cassian tried to ignore it.
If only he could bring up the topic of romantic love with Ethel. But having that kind of conversation with her... no. Cassian couldn’t simply speak openly about the topics of romance and intimacy with his fiancée. He couldn’t broach either without it being seen as improper.
Besides, there was no point in talking about either of those things, really, from a practical perspective. After all, he and Ethel were already engaged. Nothing could change that now. Their marriage was inevitable. Regardless of whether Ethel either believed in or wanted to experience something so fantastical and irrational as romantic love.
Ethel continued to move her pendant back and forth on its chain. Her eyes were fixed on the empty plate in front of her, while Cassian’s insides were busy working themselves into a knot. And the constant, irritating noise of Ethel’s necklace fiddling was only compounding his nausea and unease.
Cassian barely held back a sigh. He needed to improve things between them somehow. Or, barring that, he at least needed to unburden himself from this increasing, incessant worry that his fiancée might be melancholy because she’d been hoping to marry for love.
And so, while bringing up the idea of romantic love and of romance overall was not the least bit proper, Cassian wondered what other choice he even had.
“Ethel,” he began, “there’s something that you and I need to discuss. And I know it’s not the most... proper subject for the two of us to be talking about, but...” He trailed off and clamped his mouth shut, running his tongue over his teeth as he considered how best to continue, as though he could taste the words before even saying them aloud. “Ethel, if someone were to ask you what purpose marriage serves, how would you respond?”
Ethel stopped moving the pendant.
“Uhm, well, I suppose I’d wonder why someone might be asking me such a thing.”
Cassian let out a fast breath through his nose, close to a laugh. Yes, that was a logical response.
“Alright, then, what ifIasked you what marriage meant, or... or what marriageentailed, rather, and I... Icommandedyou to answer, then what would you say?”
