Dear God. He knew why their exchange seemed so familiar to him. Why their shared looks and the lilt in their voices and the pink color on their cheeks seemed to reverberate within him, too, making him feel fluttery, happy, ridiculous things even though he wasn’t involved in the conversation. It was because he now recognized those same things within himself.
Ethel and Mr. Quinn were in love.
Cassian began to pace back and forth, rubbing his stubbly chin while he walked. He needed to talk to Ethel. Alone, somehow.
One minute or so passed, and then there was a knock.
“Come in,” Cassian said as he continued to pace.
Mr. Quinn entered the room.
“Apologies for my lateness, Mr. Livingston. Miss Barrington and I became too invested in a conversation regarding our relative swimming speeds, if you can believe it.” He laughed to himself. “Silly, really, seeing as the woman has had proper lessons and I’m out of practice.”
Cassian only hummed in acknowledgement. He continued to pace for a moment more, and then, once an idea popped into his head, he stopped, preparing to pose it to Mr. Quinn.
But first, Cassian needed to know something.
He looked at his valet. Narrowing his eyes, Cassian began to scrutinize him. Red was still clinging to the man’s cheeks, but otherwise, the man seemed as polished as ever, his expression friendly, but overall, relatively neutral. It seemed as though Mr. Quinnwas being sincere in his efforts to be professional, regardless of his personal feelings for Ethel.
Cassian continued to consider whether or not Mr. Quinn was worthy of what he was about to propose. He believed so. In his heart, Cassian believed that John Quinn was an honorable man, one who likely hadn’t meant to begin falling for Ethel but simply hadn’t been able to resist. Cassian knew firsthand that romantic feelings were hard, if not impossible, to control. Despite that, though, Mr. Quinn had remained loyal. Of that, Cassian felt certain. And he was impressed.
“Mr. Livingston? Am I...” Mr. Quinn paused and began to inspect himself, smoothing the front of his suit. “Am I not presentable?” He lifted his hands to his hair, and his eyes popped. “Oh my. It’s still a little wet, isn’t it?” Frowning, he let out a small sigh, one that was obviously intended as a means of self-reproach. “Forgive me, Mr. Livingston. I take full responsibility for my bedraggled appearance. I ought to have exited the swimming bath earlier in order to provide myself with enough time to dry off completely.”
Cassian huffed a laugh.
“Do you really think I’m so critical, Mr. Quinn?” he asked, hoping he’d sound playful, rather than harsh.
“Yes. I mean, no. I-I mean I think you are exactly as critical as is warranted toward those who are on your staff, myself included.”
His brows pinched in the middle, as though he was patiently waiting to confirm that he had cobbled together the correct response. Letting out a fast breath through his nose, only barely stifling a laugh, Cassian bowed his head, providing his silent approval for the explanation. Good God, the people who worked for him really were terrified of him on the whole, weren’t they?
“You look perfectly presentable,” Cassian said. “And I’m pleased to hear that you took the time to enjoy the swimming bath this morning.”
Mr. Quinn smiled. “I’m thankful that you paid for me to experience it.”
“Yes, well, when I changed your meal service, I thought it might be worthwhile to see if they’d let you use the pool as well, seeing as you are staying here on B-Deck and are, in my opinion, one of the first-class passengers by proxy. You’re a first-class man to me, Mr. Quinn.”
“Thank you, Mr. Livingston,” Mr. Quinn said, his face flushing a vibrant crimson color. “What an extremely kind thing to say.”
Cassian only shrugged. It was kind, but true.
After a moment, Mr. Quinn rocked back on his heels.
“So, may I help you dress for breakfast now?” he asked.
“Yes, but first, I’d like for you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“I’d like to have my meal here in my room, and I’d like for Ethel to have her meal here with me as well.” Mr. Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. Cassian continued. “I know how that might look, so I’d like for you to somehow convince Ethel’s mother that she ought to have her own breakfast in her room, too. Or maybe you can tell her that Ethel and I are eating at Café Parisien this morning. Just say whatever you need to say so that Ethel and I can have some time to talk in private.”
“Y-yes, sir,” Mr. Quinn said, his small smile faltering slightly.
Had Cassian not known about Ethel and Mr. Quinn’s feelings for each other, he might not have even noticed the change. But Cassiandidknow. Consequently, he knew what the other man was thinking, too.
“Not that this ought to concern you, but regardless, I want to reassure you that Ethel’s virtue will remain intact,” he said. “Asyou probably saw, I lost my head in the lounge yesterday. And I’m painfully aware of the fact that my behavior was less than respectable. But neither you nor Ethel need to worry about a repeat offense.” He took a pause. “Still, I need to speak with her in private this morning. It’s important.”
“Oh. O-of course.” Mr. Quinn squeezed his eyes shut. “Apologies if I seemed concerned. It was only because I care for Miss Barrington.” His eyes flew wide as soon as the statement left his lips. “As a friend! Still, I-I shouldn’t be inserting myself into these things. Miss Barrington is your fiancée, not... mine.”
