Chapter 1
Chapter One
Cassian
Cassian Penn Livingston let out a sigh as he melted into his leather chair on the first-class passenger train.
Behind his eyes, he could feel a headache brewing, and so, he shut them for a while as the other passengers boarded.
Beside him, his fiancée, Ethel Barrington, fiddled with her necklace, moving the pendant back and forth on its chain, and Cassian clenched his teeth as the constant, ever-familiar zzzpp-zzzpp-zzzpp vibrated in his ears.
It reminded him of the sound that he used to make when he clicked his fingernails together as a boy.
Before his father had reprimanded him for it.
Harshly. Groaning softly, he reached up to massage his temples.
“Sweetheart, you’re fidgeting,” he said plainly, his voice tinged with irritation that, likely enough, was as familiar to Ethel as the pendant’s buzzing sound was to him.
“Am I?” she asked and then stilled. “Oh, I am.”
Eyes still closed, Cassian massaged his temples a few more times while waiting to see whether Ethel’s nervous habit would return.
Thankfully, it did not. Inhaling one more cleansing breath, Cassian took in the scent of freshly lacquered oak paneling, and then he tried to release some of his long-held tension with an exhale.
Thank God the trip was over. Traveling across the Atlantic for business by itself would have been fine, but being forced to entertain Ethel and her mother for the majority of it had been nothing short of wearying.
Next time, Cassian would have to insist on coming alone.
Business was one of the only things that relaxed him.
He took pride in his work. Negotiating with other leaders in his industries or even only chatting about the particulars of owning a series of both steel manufacturing plants and copper mines never failed to bring him a sense of peace.
Even more than Cassian enjoyed speaking about business, though, he loved the thrill of seeing his money grow.
After a little longer, Cassian retrieved his pocket watch from his breast pocket.
His lips curled into a small smile as he admired the elegant clamshell lid, adorned with a smattering of diamonds, each of which shimmered in the sunlight that was streaming in through the train window.
Given to Cassian by his father, the watch was his most treasured possession.
Not because it had been a present from his father, exactly, though that was what most people most likely assumed (in fact, Cassian’s father would have crinkled his nose if his only son had proven to be that sentimental), but because of what it represented as a whole.
Cassian Penn Livingston was as close to modern-day nobility as any American industrialist could be. His reputation for being a savvy businessman was known throughout the western world. And what could be more important than that?
Minutes passed while the rest of the passengers bound for Southampton boarded the train. Cassian put his watch away and stared out the window. On the platform, there was a panicked-looking man speaking with someone who, judging by his peaked cap, might have been the conductor.
Cassian pursed his lips as he continued to watch the scene unfold, and he wondered what had happened to cause the frantic man to be behaving in such a foolish way—his palms pressed together in a pathetic, pleading manner, his brows pinched and upturned.
Probably the fellow had forgotten his train ticket.
Or, more likely, he had forgotten his and his employer’s train tickets.
Because there was little chance that a man who could afford a first-class ticket on the RMS Titanic (and was therefore seeking to ride the first-class boat train from London to Southampton) would be conducting himself in a manner as ridiculous as that.
So, then, it stood to reason that the slightly erratic man was most likely someone’s valet.
Cassian shook his head in silent chastisement. How embarrassing it was to be bearing witness to such a scene.
“Anything interesting?” Ethel asked.
“Hm?” It took Cassian a moment to register what she’d said. “Oh. Not really. Just some commotion out on the platform. It seems as though a man must have forgotten his and his employer’s train tickets.”
“Mmm, that’s a shame.”
Cassian shrugged. It was, and it wasn’t. Really, the man’s employer should have hired someone who could keep better track of things.
After a few more seconds of pleading, the frantic man’s face lit up. He immediately hurried into one of the other train cars. It seemed as though the fellow had managed to charm the conductor enough to be let on board.
“Mr. Livingston!” Cassian heard from the aisle. “Good to see you.”
Cassian forced a smile and looked over. It was Mr. Jacob Calbot, one of the men in Cassian’s business circles with whom Cassian conversed on occasion.
Almost a friend, but not quite. Still, they had become somewhat familiar with each other over the past year or so.
Mr. Calbot owned several coal mines and textile manufacturing plants on the East Coast, and consequently, Cassian had run into him at a few social events.
“Mr. Calbot. Good to see you as well.”
“I wish I had known that you were in London. It might have been fun to meet up for a while,” Mr. Calbot said. “Were you in Europe on business or for pleasure?”
“Both.”
“Ah. I myself was only vacationing.”
Cassian shrugged. “It’s sensible to take some leisure time every now and then.”
“Agreed. One last jaunt across the Atlantic for a while.” Mr. Calbot leaned in close. “Ingrid is with child,” he whispered.
“Congratulations,” Cassian replied as warmly and as sincerely as he could muster.
Mr. Calbot’s smile widened. “Thank you. I’m beyond excited.”
“I can understand that.”
Mr. Calbot let out a happy hum-chuckle and lingered.
Despite the pleasantness of their exchange, a few seconds of somewhat uncomfortable silence followed.
Cassian was starting to wonder why the man was still there when Mr. Calbot’s eyes flickered over to Ethel and Cassian realized that he hadn’t yet introduced them.
“Apologies, Mr. Calbot. This is my fiancée, Ethel Barrington.”
Cassian reluctantly pushed himself to stand so that Ethel could follow suit. Once Ethel was on her feet, she extended her hand. Mr. Calbot swiftly took it and touched his lips to her middle knuckle.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Barrington,” Mr. Calbot said.
“Ethel, this is Mr. Jacob Calbot. He owns a couple of textile manufacturing plants in Philadelphia. And a few coal mines in . . .”
“Kentucky,” Mr. Calbot finished for him.
“Yes, Kentucky,” Cassian confirmed.
“How . . . resourceful,” Ethel said with a practiced smile. “It’s lovely to meet you as well, Mr. Calbot.”
Even though resourceful wasn’t exactly the best word for Ethel to have chosen, Cassian supposed that it communicated a nice enough sentiment. Hopefully Mr. Calbot wouldn’t try to extend the conversation somehow. At least not with Ethel present. Business matters were really of no concern to her.
Mr. Calbot rocked back on his heels. “Ah, well, I better head back to my seat.” Cassian nearly exhaled with relief. Thank God. “But you’re both more than welcome to come by and chat on the ride to Southampton. I’m sure I’ll be looking for a way to pass the time.”
Cassian might have to take the man up on the offer, especially if he needed a break from conversing with Ethel.
“Take care, Mr. Calbot,” Cassian said with a nod.
Once Mr. Calbot finally began shuffling toward his seat, Cassian collapsed back into his.
“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, Titanic is supposed to be the most luxurious ship in the world. It would be strange not to 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.