Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cassian
Rain was falling in sheets, pitter-pattering against the roof of the covered promenade.
Thankfully, the thunder and lightning had stopped for a while, which made it a bit safer to be walking around there, though the weather wasn’t exactly pleasant.
Still, Cassian was content enough with it.
He had been craving some fresh air after spending the bulk of the morning sitting inside his stateroom with James.
Now, though, James was helping bring potato soup to various passengers, leaving Cassian to fend for himself.
James had volunteered so that some of Carpathia’s stewards could have a brief respite from their work.
James really enjoyed working. He liked serving people and feeling as though he was helping.
And Cassian so admired that about him. But he still had to wonder what James would do once they reached New York. Other than wait on him, of course.
Cassian was still watching the rain when John Quinn came up beside him.
“Good morning, Cassian,” he said cheerily. “I heard from some of the other passengers that we should be in New York tonight. Happy news, isn’t it?”
Cassian smiled a bit. “It is.”
“Am I still welcome to spend the night with you? I promise I’ll find more suitable lodging by morning. I know you want to have your house to yourself with James, and I hate the thought of inconveniencing you.”
“You’ve lived with me for years, John. Of course you can spend the night. I hadn’t expected you to find somewhere else to live yet while we were still here at sea.”
“But everyone else has been sent away, have they not? You asked them to visit their families for the summer,” John countered.
“Yes, that’s true. But none of those people survived a shipwreck with me,” Cassian remarked. “None of them have proven to be supportive of my relationship with James, either. Most importantly, none of those people are my friends, lovely though they may be.”
John’s face reddened a little.
“I’m warmed by your kindness, sir,” he said. “Are you certain that Mr. Morrow won’t mind my presence at your home either?”
“James will not. I promise you.”
“Apologies. I still sometimes feel as though I should be more formal with you. Keep everything professional, just like I was instructed to do when I began working for families like yours.” John chuckled lightly.
“I still call Ethel ‘Miss Barrington’ sometimes. Or even only ‘miss’ on occasion, though Ethel says she likes that. She called me cute for it.”
“Yes, it is rather cute,” Cassian said. John’s smile faltered the tiniest bit, and Cassian rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. I mean that in an entirely platonic way. James is the only man I want. He’s my only and always, as we like to promise each other.”
“Only and always,” John repeated, now smiling again. “I like that.”
“It’s our promise, and you cannot have it,” Cassian countered playfully. John held up his hands in mock surrender, blush still clinging to his cheeks. Cassian chuckled and let out a sigh. “Only and always. It’s a necessary thing. But it complicates matters for me.”
“How so?”
“I’m worried about how it’ll look if I never marry,” Cassian said.
“It’s not exactly modest of me to say this, but I’m a handsome man.
And, obviously, I have plenty of money. People will talk, as Ethel pointed out before, if I never find a wife.
Probably they’ll talk even more when or if they see me with James so often, visiting his future home, wherever it is.
Heaven forbid people somehow find out that I’ll likely be footing the bill for the place, too.
Not that James couldn’t work and pay for the lodging himself.
He’d probably like to. Selfishly, though, I’d prefer him to be on my schedule.
Available whenever I wish for him to be. ”
“Can he be your valet, maybe?” John suggested. “I hope I’m not overstepping in making that suggestion.”
“I’ve thought about that, but people might wonder why he wouldn’t be living with me. And if he was to live with me . . . well, not to be crass, but I think people might notice that we’d constantly be in each other’s rooms.”
John laughed. “Oh my, yes, I can see how that might be a problem.”
Cassian laughed, too.
“Ah, well, James and I will think of something, I’m sure,” he said. “I have a potential idea in my head, but I have yet to share it with him.”
“I’ll let you know if I think of a solution as well,” John said. “You’ve been so good to me. I’d love to help you if possible.”
“Thank you, John.” Cassian clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed. “You’ve been good to me, too. Best valet I’ve ever had, bar none.”
John’s shy smile broadened, but then it faltered a little.
“I only wish that Ethel’s mother could see the value in my profession,” he said.
“Is she still unhappy about your relationship with Ethel?”
“Unfortunately,” John said with a sigh. “She’s mostly worried about Ethel’s reputation, I think. Or, well, I suppose her own reputation as well, since it’ll be her child who will have broken off her engagement with Cassian Penn Livingston.”
Cassian cringed. He hated how the brunt of society’s ire would fall on Ethel. How impossibly unfair it was.
“I wish I knew what to say, John. Neither of you ought to be subjected to such hostility, not from Helena Barrington or from other people in mine and Ethel’s circle.”
Looking at his shoes, John swept one foot across the floor in front of him and shrugged.
Remorse curdled in Cassian’s stomach, even though none of this was really his fault.
Neither was it a bad thing in and of itself.
Cassian proposing to Ethel had led to them both finding love, even if not with each other.
Ethel and John were happy together. And Cassian and James were happy together.
Both were such wonderful, wonderful things.
What a Goddamned pity it was that their society wouldn’t see it that way.
Cassian squeezed John’s shoulder one more time before turning to leave.
“I should go,” he said. “I promised James that I’d meet him in the stateroom once he finished helping Carpathia’s crew.”
John nodded.
“Take care, Cassian,” he said.
“You as well,” Cassian said. “I hope Helena comes to her senses.”
“Me too.”
Despondent, Cassian continued inside and walked to the stateroom, keeping his head low as his mind continued to circle around his and Ethel’s future struggles.
Before entering the stateroom, Cassian took a pause and shut his eyes, forcing the worries from his head so that he could be fully present with James.
Once inside, Cassian found James sitting on the edge of the bed, frowning at something he had in his hands. Crooking an eyebrow, Cassian walked over and sat next to him. James was looking at his wallet.
“Something the matter?” Cassian asked.
“Just feeling sorry for myself, I suppose,” James replied.
He opened the wallet and pulled something out.
It was a photograph. “I know it probably seems silly, but this was my most treasured possession.” He handed the photograph to Cassian.
“It’s my favorite photograph of George. I have others that are still back with Maggie in London.
Even one of me and George together. But this one was my favorite. ”
Cassian studied the photograph. It was a portrait.
But the image was ruined now, the picture faded and blurred.
Aside from the problems with the color, there were lots of little scratches skirting across the surface now, as well, possibly because of the saltwater crystals. Heaviness settled in Cassian’s chest.
“He looks so much like himself there, personality-wise,” James said.
He pointed to George’s faded face. “He’s smirking a bit.
Not that you can tell very well thanks to the saltwater.
But that was George. Always smiling. Always laughing.
He and I were alike in that respect. Neither of us liked being serious for too long.
He was much cheekier than I was, though.
I was more of a rule follower. And more .
. . well, submissive. In lots of respects.
” He paused and smiled wryly at Cassian.
“Still am, as you know.” His eyes went back to the photo.
“George, though, he liked to be in charge. He liked to cause trouble as well. And, oh, I loved how perfect this photograph was. Because it really looked like he was up to something.” He laughed a bit. “Dammit, it was so perfect.”
Immediately after James stopped talking, his small smile fell away. He continued to stare at the photograph for a while. Sorrow coiled in Cassian’s stomach as he, too, looked at the photograph and thought about how much it meant to poor James.
Cassian wished that he could fix it somehow.
Contrary to what Cassian would have expected, learning that this particular photograph was James’s most prized possession wasn’t all that upsetting to him.
He could now imagine how painful it must have been for James to have lost someone he loved.
Because for that brief bit of time in the water, Cassian had believed that he’d lost someone he loved, too.
Had Cassian lost James but been forced to keep on living, he knew that he would have loved to have a photograph of James to help him remember the man’s pinchable cheeks.
Just as James had become Cassian’s most treasured possession now, a photograph of James would have been that for him, too, had he lost James that night in the Atlantic.
And so, Cassian could only feel sorry for James about George’s photograph now, rather than possessive.
“I’m so sorry, James,” Cassian said, making his voice as warm as he could. He handed the photograph back to his lovely steward. “I hope you won’t ever let yourself forget his smile, even without the help of the photograph.”