Page 12 of Murder on the SS Leviathan
‘Nothing stays the same, you’re right—but it’s how we know we’re alive, isn’t it.’ He paused. ‘Even Cecile’s changed, don’t you think? I wonder, sometimes, if it was prudent, bringing her on this trip. She’s still innocent, and impressionable, and I’m not sure Miss di Cavour’s influence is desirable.’
’She’s stronger minded than you might think, and braver…remember how she remained while the castello was burning, trying to save a servant she believed was trapped?’ Maud’s voice was firmer now, finding it easier to speak of someone other than herself. ‘Not to mention that she exercised correct judgement in avoiding a marriage to the conte. One does not wish to speak ill of the dead, but my cousin Lorenzo would not have made her a suitable husband.’
That, Henry agreed with.
‘I was remiss in allowing her to stay there, in thinking that my grandmother would be chaperone enough to prevent an unwise liaison.’ Maud pulled her cloak close. The mist had almost reached the ship, stealthily concealing the swell and chop of grey-blue.
‘If anyone should feel remorse for that, it is I. She is my sister, after all. I bear responsibility for guiding her in Society and, until such time as she marries, for protecting her.’
Just as I’ve tried to protect you.
For all Maud had believed she understood of the world, and her own self, she’d given cause to need that protection. Her decisions had been as foolish as those of any debutante straying from the lights of a ballroom into shadowed garden paths. Had he not come to her aid in the mountains above Scogliera, she might not be alive at this moment—or be so broken that she’d rather not be so.
‘I shall keep a watchful eye on Cecile. We both shall.’ Turning, Maud pressed herself to his chest and tilted back her head for his kiss.
‘Not here. The mist is damp and you’re chilled already.’
The white gauze was drifting over the deck now, cool tendrils curling about their legs. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he guided her back to the stairs leading to the upper deck.
She was yawning, too tired to be up in the middle of the night. He’d make sure she slept late and breakfasted in bed.
They’d reached the uppermost step when he saw something move below—a shifting shadow within a pale shroud.
He tensed.
The mist had hushed even the sound of the waves, but he heard a footstep and the drag of something along the deck.
Maud must have heard it too. ‘Is someone there?’
Shaking his head, Henry pressed his finger to her lips, remaining silent as he peered through the nothingness.
The moon’s glow was subdued, eaten by the enveloping fog, but he was sure he’d seen a figure; someone walking strangely—with a limping gait.
Someone approaching the cabins directly below.
It was eerily quiet, even the vibration of the ship seeming to have stopped. They would have pulled back the engines of course, seeing the approaching fog. Above, the funnels were barely visible.
He strained to listen again, but the ship’s horn let forth a deafening blast, obscuring all else. Maud jumped, then gave a gasping laugh, burying her face against his arm.
The sound faded away, carrying far enough—one hoped—to warn other vessels, were there any close by.
Henry scanned the wreathing veil, but there was nothing more to see.
