“Mr. Livingston—”
“You can call me Cassian. I think we ought to admit to ourselves that your employment with me is coming to an end. Not that people won’t talk, regardless, but I imagine that it’ll be a little less scandalous-looking if you are no longer my valet when the two of you inevitably wed. I’d like to remain friends, though. You’re a good man. And since the end of my engagement with Ethel standsto benefit me, too, for personal reasons that I cannot currently share, I shall help you and Ethel however I can while you find your footing together.Ifyou do, indeed, want to marry her, that is.”
“I... oh, Mr. Livingson, Cassian, of course I’d marry Ethel. If she’ll have me.”
“She’ll have you.”
John’s brow creased, and he studied Cassian’s eyes for a while.
“Thank you, Cassian,” he said.
Smiling a fond but tight-lipped smile, Cassian nodded. John pushed a hand through his hair and let out a breath.
“Still, I feel that I must apologize for becoming so frazzled—irate, really—at the sight of the two of you holding hands earlier,” John said. “It’s just that I feel very strongly about Ethel. I’d let myself think that maybe something had changed because of the conversation we’d had in your stateroom before. Consequently, it affected me greatly, even for that brief moment, to think that she was being affectionate with you, romantically.” He blew out a breath. “Even merely imagining her with someone else...” Laughing a bit, he shook his head. “Apologies.”
Cassian smiled back at him. But then, as he mentally prepared to express forgiveness, his brain latched onto one particular phrase that John had said.
Even merely imagining her with someone else . . .
And suddenly he remembered how he’d felt back in the swimming bath when he had first learned that James had been in love with a man named George. He himself had felt frazzled. Irate. Furious, even. All from merelyimaginingJames being with some other man.
John felt precisely the same way when it came to Ethel. And perhaps...
Perhapsthatwas how James had felt when Cassian said he’d still marry someone else.
Cassian’s stomach lurched as he let himself internalize this. Realizing the pain that he might have thoughtlessly put James in had he followed through with the plans for his future made him feel as though he might retch. He hoped that James would forgive him for being so blind.
After a moment more, Cassian faced his former valet.
“You’re forgiven,” he said warmly.
John seemed to relax a little, maybe forgiving himself, too. One more minute passed, and then Cassian clapped his hands on his knees and stood.
“Alright, I think that maybe what’s next is for you and Ethel to finally talk,” he said before starting toward the door. “Follow me over to my room. You and Ethel can chat in there while I take care of something elsewhere.”
After Cassian showed John to his room, he shut the door and checked his pocket watch. Midnight. Exactly when the Smoking Room closed. Most likely, James was heading back to his room on E-Deck. Either that or finishing his shift. It was the perfect time for them to talk.
Cassian needed to tell James that he was prepared to change his life for the man, somehow. At the very least, he was prepared to blatantly ignore the expectation that he find a nice, well-bred, respectable woman to marry in favor of having a secret relationship with James instead.
Eager to make amends with the man he loved, Cassian started for Scotland Road.
Chapter Nineteen
James
April 14, 1912
11:38 p.m.
In the Smoking Room, James was toasting a cigar for Mr. Jacob Calbot, his heart heavy and stomach in knots. Occasionally, over the last hour, he had been hit with waves of what felt like dread, the sensation so strong that it often stole the breath from his lungs, stopping him mid-step. He’d felt similarly on the morning of George’s accident. Consequently, James couldn’t help but assume the worst.
Sometime within the last little while, Cassian must have made up his mind regarding the future of their relationship. Most likely, the man had simply decided that veering from the path he was expected to follow was not something he was willing to do. And so, James and Cassian’s short-but-intense entanglement was probably poised to come to an end soon, maybe even before their arrival in New York.
Fighting to keep a neutral expression through yet another swell of nausea, James handed the newly lit cigar back to Cassian’s friend.
“Thank you, Mr. Morrow,” the man said with a cordial smile.
“Of course,” James replied. “Let me know if you require anything else. Even though the bar is closed, I can fetch water for you, if requested.”
