Chapter Eighteen #2
Hours later, Cassian was lying in bed in his stateroom, his gaze unfocused while he tried to figure out what a life with James Thomas Morrow could look like for someone like him.
Perhaps the particulars hinged on whether or not James wanted to continue working as a steward.
If so, then Cassian could only ever spend time with him on whatever ocean liner James was working on at the time or maybe whenever James had time away from work for holidays.
Cassian didn’t have a clue how much time stewards like James might be given in between ocean crossings, either.
Hours? Days? Likely not weeks, though that would have been nice.
If, however, James would consider not working as a steward anymore, then what else could he do?
Cassian vaguely recalled that James had mentioned being a footman before starting with the White Star Line.
Perhaps James could return to that sort of work, presumably, either in London or in New York, though Cassian failed to see how they’d manage to spend much alone time together without the logistics of it causing both of them metaphorical or real headaches.
Besides, he kind of wanted James to himself.
Cassian wondered whether he might hire James in place of Mr. Quinn, though if Cassian himself stayed unmarried, then perhaps him spending an inordinate amount of time with his handsome valet might raise some eyebrows. It seemed like a possibility, though.
Dammit, he hated that James was putting him through this.
Couldn’t the man just accept that for men like them, for men like him, marriage was normal and expected and mostly just a simple social contract?
Cassian cherished James as things were now, and he’d continue to love him and cherish him and let the man please him regardless of whomever he shared his bed on the nights when they couldn’t be together.
Scowling, Cassian halfheartedly smacked the wood paneling of the wall with his fist.
Only seconds later, he heard what sounded like a woman crying and thought that perhaps he had startled the passenger in the adjoining room.
But he quickly realized that the sound was instead coming from the hall.
Furrowing his brow, Cassian continued to listen as the sniffling moved closer.
He waited for the crying to fade, but it lingered, as though the crying woman had stopped only a few rooms over.
Ethel?
Cassian immediately sat up and started for the door.
When he opened it, he saw Ethel outside her room, probably waiting for the cabin steward to let her inside.
Her cheeks were wet, her face somewhat puffy, and even though she must have heard Cassian open his door, she kept her eyes in front of her, fixed on the floor.
“Ethel?” he said. “Are you hurt? What happened?”
Ethel only shrugged. Leaning out into the corridor, Cassian looked up and down its length for a cabin steward, but there wasn’t one. Damn. He couldn’t just leave her there, crying.
“Come to my room for a while,” he said, but Ethel stayed put.
Letting out an exasperated huff, Cassian walked over to her.
“We really can’t have people see you like this,” he whispered.
“Someone might think that I caused whatever this is. Remember, I’m still your fiancé, as far as everyone else is concerned.
Not that you should be in my room at this hour, either, but I think that’s preferable to you standing out here sobbing. ”
She sniffled and nodded. Cassian pulled out his handkerchief, and she took it from him.
Together, they walked back to Cassian’s room.
Ethel sat on the edge of the bed, and Cassian sat with her.
He waited for her to say something, but she only sat there, sniffling on occasion.
Cassian began to bite his nails. Both of them were quiet for a while.
Finally, he said, “Ethel, talk to me.”
She shut her eyes.
“I . . .” Her voice faltered, and she paused. “I confessed my feelings for Mr. Quinn to my mother.” Cassian’s eyebrows shot up as Ethel inhaled a trembling breath. “And I told her that our engagement was over, too. She was not . . . exactly supportive. Obviously.”
Slowly, Ethel fluttered open her eyes and turned to face him. Cassian pressed his lips together to refrain from saying the chastising comment that he so badly wanted to say.
“I’m so sorry, Cassian,” she said. “I couldn’t keep this from her anymore.
After we finished eating, I walked with her to the reception area outside the saloon, and she started asking about some of the choices for our wedding, and before I knew it, the news spilled out of me.
Really, I-I never meant to tell her about it here on the ship, but in that moment, I couldn’t seem to hold back. ”
Cassian muttered a few choice obscenities in the confines of his head. Afterward, he took a long, somewhat cleansing breath and then released it slowly.
“So, now what?” he said.
He couldn’t manage more right now. He’d already been struggling with his own Goddamned everything before this. At least he’d sounded worn out, rather than annoyed, though.
“I’m not sure,” she said.
Her hands found her necklace, and she began fiddling with the pendant.
“Did you and Mr. Quinn talk yet?”
“Not yet,” she admitted. “Actually, that’s one of the concerns that my mother raised. What if John isn’t interested in marrying me? I know you think that John returns my feelings, but—”
“He does,” Cassian said. “I know he does. Once one of us speaks with him, he’ll propose right then.
Or, perhaps not right then if it’s me who meets with him first,” he teased, which elicited a small smile from Ethel.
Cassian smiled back a bit. “Really, I can’t think of a single reason why Mr. Quinn wouldn’t want to marry you. ”
Ethel’s eyes fell, and she fidgeted with her necklace some more, moving it back and forth on the chain.
“Are you certain he’ll want me?” she asked.
“I’m certain,” Cassian confirmed with a nod. “Completely certain.”
Looking up through her lashes, Ethel smiled shyly. “I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” he said, rolling his eyes. “When am I not right?”
Ethel’s small smile broadened, and she laughed lightly. Cassian chuckled, too, the last remnants of the irritation he’d been feeling chased away by their brief moment of playfulness.
Laughter having faded, Ethel said, “I suppose I do understand my mother, though. Marrying someone like John isn’t what she had planned for me.
If my father were alive, he’d be heartbroken.
He would have wanted me to marry someone in our circle—either in our immediate one, or even in our broader one since he had acquaintances everywhere from Boston to Cleveland to London.
And he’d have wanted me to marry you, Cassian.
Oh, I can only imagine how excited he would have been for me to be marrying the son of one of his closest friends.
All throughout my life, my father spoke highly of you—initially, as the boy who exceeded every expectation everyone had of him, even when they’d expected quite a lot in the first place, and then, later, as a man who was the picture of success, inheriting his family’s businesses and expanding them with ease.
I . . . well, I really was intimidated by you before you proposed.
You were almost a mythical figure to me in some respects.
I think, initially, that was one of the reasons I struggled to talk to you.
I never felt as though I was worthy of being your wife.
But then . . . then, instead of becoming more comfortable talking with you, I became more uncomfortable once I started having romantic feelings for John. ”
She looked at her hands, which were still holding tight to the pendant on her necklace, though they’d stopped moving mid-speech. Cassian’s brows pinched as he waited for her to finish.
Softly, she added, “I had no intention of ever falling for someone else, Cassian. There was even a time when I thought that maybe, eventually, the two of us might fall in love—romantic love—though, of course, I would have been satisfied with the sort of love that comes from having your lives intertwined over time as well.” Slowly, she lifted her chin to meet his eyes.
“No wonder my mother is so disappointed with me, though. I’ve failed her. ”
Cassian’s heart sank, and he pondered her words for a little while, considering how to respond to what she had confessed to him.
He hadn’t had even the slightest inkling that Ethel had once found him too intimidating to converse with.
And the notion seemed so strange to him.
Out of all of the women who had been available for him to propose to, he had chosen her.
And so, it was shocking to learn that that mere fact alone hadn’t been enough to make her feel more confident.
Indeed, in Cassian’s eyes, she was his equal.
Perhaps he could have salvaged their relationship back then if he’d known.
He could have cultivated a better bond with her early on.
Although . . . he found himself feeling immensely relieved that he hadn’t. Because now he had James.
And Cassian wouldn’t trade James for anything in the world.
Slowly, this realization settled in Cassian’s mind.
And he knew for certain, then, not only what choice he would make with regard to his future, but he also knew that he truly wanted to make it.
Perhaps, contrary to what he had been thinking, James had not, in fact, been forcing his hand for selfish reasons.
Rather, James had only been encouraging Cassian to let himself not exceed other people’s expectations for once and to instead let himself see what it was that he wanted, regardless of whether or not it fit people’s image of him.