“He seemed friendly,” Ethel said as she sat and smoothed out her skirts. “Are you close?”
“Not particularly.”
“Hm.”
Cassian crossed one foot atop its opposite knee as the train lurched forward. Gazing out the window, he began chewing on his fingernails and let his mind drift. Minutes passed while Ethel hummed a soft tune, one that Cassian didn’t recognize. He thought about asking her to stop, but the humming was preferable to the necklace fiddling.
Still, he knew that he ought to talk to her.
“So,” he began, “are you... excited for our voyage?”
“Of course,” she said, though her tone was neutral, lacking even a hint of enthusiasm. “From what I’ve heard,Titanicis supposed to be the most luxurious ship in the world. It would be strangenotto be excited.”
Cassian huffed a half laugh. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
After that, just as Cassian had expected, the two fell back into silence. Cassian clenched his teeth to stifle an irritated groan. What a shame it was that he and Ethel had such trouble talking with each other. In Cassian’s opinion, he provided plenty of conversation topics when they were together. Most of the time, anyway. Other times, when Ethel’s mother was present (which, for obvious social reasons, was the case more often than not), the Barrington family matriarch took it upon herself to keep the conversation moving. But Cassian had little interest in chatting with a fifty-year-old widow whose favorite pastime was needlepoint. Not that Ethel had more stimulating interests that Cassian knew about. But soon enough, Ethel would be his wife. And Cassian wanted to be able to talk with his future spouse about normal, everyday happenings. Otherwise, every second meal from here into eternity would be that much more of a chore.
And what of the evenings? Regularly bedding a woman with whom he could barely even have a conversation—how arduousthatwould be. Cassian was certain that he could manage it, from a purely physical standpoint. He’d had women before, when visiting certain types of establishments—ones he’d been expected to visit with peers back when he was younger. None of the experiences had been particularly memorable (other than his first one, perhaps, but only because everything had been so wholly unfamiliar to him then). Still, Cassian hadn’t exactly regretted them, either. He’d never liked spending the money, though. After all, he was able to bring himself an equal amount of pleasure on his own.
Cassian frowned. He knew that he should have been more excited about marrying Ethel. After all, Ethel Barrington was no stranger, unlike those other women whom Cassian had bedded. Cassian had chosen Ethel in partbecauseshe wasn’t a stranger, in fact. And for a myriad of other reasons as well.
Firstly, he had known her family for most of his life, and as a result, he had spent a fair bit of time with her by the time he’d proposed. He had come to care about her over the years. At least, he cared about her overall well-being. Consequently, he had taken it upon himself to ensure that she’d marry someone who could provide her with a nice life.
Besides that, though, Cassian had chosen Ethel for other reasons, too. For one, Ethel was a pleasant person to be around. Beautiful to look at, with soft, light-brown eyes and well-kept chocolate-colored hair. Educated, too (as much as a well-to-do young woman poised to become the matriarch of a household could be). She’d make a fine mother to his future children someday.
Perhaps the most important reason that Cassian had chosen her, however, had been the fact that Ethel had, at one time, seemedthrilledwith the prospect of marrying him.
Overall, Ethel had once seemed like the perfect choice for a wife.
Lately, though, the woman rarely ever seemed happy. Too often, her smiles seemed forced or strained, especially when she and Cassian were alone together, as rare as that was. Not that Cassian had been the picture of happiness himself, but still, he was content enough with the match, and as such, he tried to show it as much as possible.
Cassian knew he was a sensible choice for a husband, considering his looks and wealth and social standing. And he was far from being overly conventional like some other men his age. He was more than amenable to bending a few of society’s unspoken rules a little, especially in the privacy of his and Ethel’s future home. Surely, he’d made that plenty clear to Ethel by now. He’d even offered to show her how to play poker someday since she seemed to be somewhat interested in learning it. He’d been quick to promise to play with herthe very momenthe’d heard her voice that peculiar desire of hers to his valet.
So, then, what was the problem? Cassian couldn’t make sense ofwhyhe and his fiancée weren’t connecting, even a little. He wanted her to be happy. Hell, he wantedhimselfto be happy. But both of those things only seemed to be floating farther and farther out of reach.
Over the next hour, these thoughts rattled around in Cassian’s head as he chewed on his fingernails while watching the city pass by outside the window. Eventually, Ethel requested a newspaper to read. Cassian considered borrowing a page or two so that he could try to talk with her about one of the articles but then reconsidered.
After a few more minutes, Cassian’s head started to throb. Dammit, he needed something to help stave off the inevitable skull-crushing headache he knew was coming.
“I’m going to get coffee,” Cassian said as he suddenly stood.
Ethel brightened. “Would you like me to ask for Mr. Quinn? I’m sure he’d be happy to—”
Cassian held up his hand. “No, no. I’d like some time to myself.”
Even though Cassian would have normally had his valet fetch him a beverage, he thought it best if he instead seized the opportunity to leave his seat for a while.
Cassian continued. “Mr. Quinn can relax for a while longer. I imagine that there are stewards in the dining car who can help.”
“All right,” Ethel replied with a small sigh, noticeably wilting a little.
Right away, the woman began fiddling with her necklace some more. Cassian gritted his teeth as he moved past her. At least he wouldn’t have to hear that horriblezzzpp zzzpp zzzppfor a while.
After exiting their row, Cassian started moving to the next car. On the way, he passed Mr. Calbot and threw him a nod. He soon reached the saloon car, where there were several booths. All of them were empty. Except for one.
Seated next to the window in the booth closest to the kitchen area was the man whom Cassian had seen pleading with the conductor on the platform earlier. He had a cup of tea in front of him, and he was writing in a black leather notebook. When Cassian took a couple of steps toward him, he noticed that the man had his luggage with him, too. Peculiar. But perhaps the man had been released from his employer for his incompetency and therefore had nowhere else to put it.
Vaguely curious to confirm whether or not his suspicions were correct (though he was fairly certain that they were), Cassian took a seat in the booth on the other side of the aisle, facing the man. He’d start a conversation whenever the fellow looked up from whatever he was scribbling.
