Chapter Eighteen #3
Deep in his heart, Cassian knew that he didn’t want to marry someone else. Or bed someone else, either. He didn’t want to mislead some woman into thinking that he wanted to marry her and that he was happy with her and that he even liked being intimate with her.
All Cassian wanted was James. Only and always.
Oh, what a fool he had been.
Ethel placed a hand on his knee. He covered it with his own.
“I’m sorry, Cassian.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be.”
“But you look so upset.”
Cassian huffed a slightly bitter laugh.
“I am,” he confirmed. “But I’m only upset with myself.
And for mostly unrelated reasons.” He took a pause, pursing his lips as he worked out what to say next.
“Ethel, regardless of how it makes your mother feel, and regardless of how you think your father might have felt about the matter, too, I hope that you still intend to confess your feelings to Mr. Quinn.” Pausing, he inhaled a breath and then clicked his tongue once.
“I spent the entirety of my life working to please other people. Even as a child, my largest and most pressing concern was whether I’d please my parents and their friends.
I never let myself consider what it was that I wanted in life.
” He curled his fingers around Ethel’s and squeezed.
“Let yourself want, Ethel. Let yourself seize whatever it is that you want as well. Forget our families. Forget our friends back in New York. Forget the whole of our little circle here on the ship. Be with Mr. Quinn if it will make you happy. Your mother will either come to her senses and support you, or she will miss out on being part of the lovely life that you will no doubt make for yourself.”
Ethel squeezed back. “Thank you, Cassian. I hope that you will let yourself want, too.”
“I will. I am.” He smiled warmly. “Don’t worry about me.”
Seconds passed while the pair smiled at each other, the enormity of their separate but connected futures before them, when there was a sudden, fierce jolt.
Cassian’s muscles tensed. Ethel squeezed his hand once more.
Both of their eyes widened as the sensation was swiftly followed by a rumbling vibration, like the ship was rolling over many thousands of marbles.
When it was over, Cassian and Ethel both began to look around the room.
“Goodness, what was that?” Ethel asked.
“Let’s find out,” Cassian said, standing.
Hand in hand, they walked to the door and went out into the corridor. Cassian surveyed the length of the hall, searching for a cabin steward. Mr. Quinn came out into the corridor, too, his face marked with concern.
“Mr. Livingston,” he said. “You must have felt that as well. I wonder—”
He cut himself off the moment his eyes fell to Cassian and Ethel’s linked hands.
Cassian watched the man’s expression change multiple times in fast succession—first into surprise, then into something that seemed like a brief flash of fury, and finally, lastly, into what might have been embarrassment.
Mr. Quinn’s eyes then moved back and forth between Cassian’s face and Ethel’s.
Cassian opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even begin to explain the reason why he was not only holding Ethel’s hand but had been spending time with her alone in his stateroom some twenty minutes or so before midnight, the cabin steward rounded the corner.
“Nothing to worry about,” the man said. “I believe we might have kicked a propeller blade is all.”
Cassian nodded once to acknowledge what the man had said, the worry he’d felt over the peculiar sensations from before withering away. Then, he refocused on Mr. Quinn as the cabin steward walked past them to reassure some other passengers farther down the corridor.
“Mr. Quinn, I need to speak with you,” Cassian said, releasing Ethel’s hand. He pointed to the man’s stateroom. “Now.”
After a second of stunned silence, Mr. Quinn hurried inside. Cassian looked over his shoulder as he neared the room and caught Ethel’s eye.
“I’ll fix this,” he said. “Go relax in my room. Mr. Quinn and I will be there shortly.”
Without waiting for her answer, Cassian turned and went inside Mr. Quinn’s room to find his valet sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes downcast, his hands folded on his lap.
“Are you relieving me of my position?” he asked.
“You have every right to.” He closed his eyes and began to bounce his leg.
“Yesterday morning, in your stateroom, I thought that you were . . . communicating something with me. Something about you and Ethel, maybe. But I misread it. Clearly.” After a pause, he opened his eyes and lifted them to meet Cassian’s.
His eyebrows were pinched, his expression pleading and remorseful.
“Oh, Mr. Livingston, my mother always said that I wear my heart on my sleeve. And . . . on my face. And so, I imagine that I must have said a lot back there. But I promise you, I can and will move past my misgivings about Miss Barrington’s and your relationship.
And—and those misgivings are not even because of you.
Or because of her. But because of me. Still, if you’d rather find a new valet . . . I’ll understand.”
Cassian inhaled a long breath and sighed. Then, he started over to the bed.
“You did not misread things yesterday, Mr. Quinn.” He sat beside his valet on the mattress.
“I knew of your feelings for Ethel, and I did, indeed, intend to reassure you that nothing . . . unsavory had ever happened between me and her. And that’s still the case.
” Cassian leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees.
“And now I want you to know that Ethel and I have ended our engagement.” Mr. Quinn sucked in a fast breath, but Cassian continued.
“No one else knows yet. Aside from her mother. Although she only found out earlier tonight. In fact, that’s the only reason why I was holding Ethel’s hand before.
I was comforting her since her mother was, predictably, less than thrilled with the news.
” He looked over. “Ethel is in love with you, John. Of course I can’t marry her. ”
“Wh-what?” John Quinn blinked a few times, shaking his head in bewilderment. “She’s . . . she’s in love with me?”
Cassian let out a light laugh. “Yes, she is.”
“But . . . why?”
“Love isn’t logical, John. You must have charmed her. Enchanted her.” He shrugged. “Besides, why wouldn’t Ethel be in love with you? You’re a kind man. Hardworking. Funny, on occasion. Gentle. Really, she and you are a perfect match.”
Mr. Quinn’s hand flew to his face, and he touched his fingers to his lips. He seemed to be at a loss for words. His cheeks slowly began to flush.
“But we haven’t even . . . I-I mean, she’s been with you this whole time and—”
“And while she’s been with me, she’s been spending plenty of time with you,” Cassian said. “It might not have been a proper courtship, but I firmly believe that it was one, whether or not either of you realized it while it was happening. I certainly did not realize it for a while.”
John winced.
“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 stands to 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.
If you 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 merely imagining James being with some other man.
John felt precisely the same way when it came to Ethel. And perhaps . . .
Perhaps that was 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.