If James was content to forget their friendship, to cast such a precious thing into the sea, then Cassian would forget James as well. He’d concentrate on improving his relationship with Ethel. He’d cultivate a connection evenmoremagnificent with Ethel. He had no need for this... this strangely intimate friendship with a... aservant.
He was Cassian Penn Livingston. And he was owed better than this.
***
Hours later, in the First-Class Lounge, Cassian was having a finger of whiskey with Ethel while she enjoyed a cocktail. Ethel’s mother was several seats over, chatting with the Astors and Benjamin Guggenheim, and Cassian’s trusted valet Mr. Quinn was across the room, poised to wait on Cassian’s every whim. Finally, things were back to the way they should have been since the beginning.
Inhaling a cleansing breath, Cassian turned to Ethel on their shared sofa and drank in the sight of her. He moved his eyes over her face, over her soft but striking cheekbones, over the little swoop of her perfectly shaped nose, and then moved his eyes lower, first lingering on her slender neck and then focusing on the rest of her, inch by inch. In only a few short months, he’d see her without one of her stunning gowns. Ethel Barrington would be his wife.
Shutting his eyes, Cassian let himself imagine their wedding night, knowing that he’d contain himself well enough not to have a repeat of the now-nearly-forgotten time he’d spent here in the lounge with James, but eager to prove to himself that he still wanted her in that way.
And yet, even as Cassian imagined removing her clothes, even as Cassian imagined her bare breasts and navel and more, he felt nothing. Not a wisp of want. Not a hint of heat. Concentrating harder, Cassian thought about what bedding her would feel like instead. He imagined holding her, thrusting into her, bringing himself release, bringing her release, experiencing it together and...
Nothing.
Cassian shook his head. He reminded himself that they were surrounded by other people. Obviously, that was the problem.Besides, intimate relations were only a small, practically infinitesimal part of a marriage anyway. In fact, he and Ethel had talked at length about the other aspects of marriage only yesterday. And there were plenty of them. Security, safety, stability. He’d provide Ethel with those. In return, Ethel would provide him with companionship. And she was a lovely enough person. She’d make a fine companion for him throughout their lives together.
He could prove it. Right now.
“Ethel, sweetheart,” he began, “I’d love to hear more about your time at the swimming bath this morning. Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Oh. Uhm. Yes, I did.”
“It’s nice there, isn’t it? I found the water to be incredibly pleasant.”
Ethel smiled a bit. “It was.”
Cassian strummed his fingers on his thigh.
“Do you swim well?” he asked. “I can’t remember.”
“Mm-hmm,” she replied with a nod. “I had private lessons.”
“Yes, me too.”
Cassian waited for Ethel to make even a modest attempt at keeping the conversation going, but she only took a sip of her drink. Cassian frowned. Everything had been so easy with James. Bantering and flirting and conversing about whatever was on either of their minds—it had felt as natural as breathing.
But maybe that was because he and James had merely been friends. Or had beenbecomingfriends. Depending on which point of their short-lived friendship he was focusing on. And friendship wasn’t the same as what he and Ethel were working toward—marriage. Obviously, interacting with Ethel wasn’t meant to be akin to interacting with a friend. So, maybe Cassian’s expectations were wrong then. Maybe they had been wrong for a while now. For months, really. He’d been letting himself think that something wasmissing from his relationship with Ethel, but maybe nothing was missing. Maybe this was simply how marriage was meant to be.
Ruminating on this, Cassian threw back a bit of his whiskey. He let his gaze wander around the room, from couple to couple. Most of them were chatting with other people, couples congregating in groups of four or more. Conversing with Ethel wasalwayseasier when others were around. So, well, it made sense, then, why so many of these other couples looked happy.
But then, Cassian found the Calbots on a sofa on the far end of the room. Furrowing his brow in curiosity, he watched them for a while. Back and forth they went with their conversation, smiling and laughing and even playfully touching each other every once in a while. Both of them were wearing such merry expressions, their eyes alight with happiness, their faces the picture of liveliness. It was as though they were... in love.
Cassian’s face fell. Dear God, that was the thing that was missing from his and Ethel’s relationship, wasn’t it? Love.Romanticlove.
But Cassian had never cared about that before. He’d never fantasized about falling in love with a beautiful woman. Even when he’d been read the occasional fairy-tale as a child, he’d never been particularly interested in theloveyparts of the stories. Never had hewantedto fall in love.
Ethel and I can’t seem to find pleasure in each other’s company. And it’s bothering me.
I feel like something is missing.
Cassian’s own previous words echoed in his mind, and with each repetition, the true meaning behind them became clear. Hehadwanted love before. Even though he hadn’t seen it. Even though he hadn’t consciously known it. Still, some part of him, however small, had recognized that he wanted, needed, evendeservedmore than what his relationship with Ethel was proving to be.
But there was still time to change it.
Because there had to be.
Scrubbing a hand over the lower half of his face, Cassian thought back on the conversation he’d had with James about love. He tried to remember what James had said romantic love was like. Flying and falling. Some nonsense like that. But what else?
