Page 38 of Murder on the SS Leviathan
Cecile had much to ask Lucrezia, but they could both do with time to recover. She allowed herself to be led inside Lance’s suite, seated and a glass of brandy placed in her hands. It was far too early to be drinking spirits, and Henry didn’t approve of her having them at all—but the circumstances were hardly usual.
Come to that, Henry wouldn’t usually advocate for her being alone with a gentleman in his rooms, but she assumed her brother had his reasons for not sending her to be with Maud.
Most probably, he hadn’t mentioned anything to her yet. He’d have to, of course. Claudette was Maud’s own maid. It would be impossible to keep it from her, regardless of how Henry wished to protect her feelings.
He might have sent Cecile to sit in one of the public spaces, but it was a relief to be spared that. Someone would approach to make conversation, and she didn’t think she could manage a brave face.
Cecile swirled the liquid and took a sip, then grimaced at the strong taste. She never had gotten used it, though the gingery warmth that followed was pleasant.
Pouring another glass, Lance slumped into one of the armchairs, resting back his head. Even with hair unbrushed and jaw unshaven, he was devastatingly handsome. The bruising of his face had faded to yellow.
‘How is it—your forehead?’ Cecile brought her fingers to her own brow, touching where his stitches were located.
He opened one eye. ‘Not bad; itches like Hell but that shows it’s healing, I guess.’ Passing a hand roughly through his hair, he gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’m not my best this morning. That young woman should still be alive.’
‘I’m to blame. If I hadn’t distracted you…’ Cecile bit at her lip. ‘I didn’t even lock the door behind me. Lucrezia was sleeping there! What if the murderer had tried my cabin?’ Cecile realized the extent of her foolishness. Though she tried to suppress it, another sob rose unbidden from deep within her chest.
Setting his glass aside, Lance touched Cecile’s hand. ‘You were brave to attempt what you did. A little too daring, perhaps—but your intentions were good.’
Cecile gulped and sniffed, looking down at Lance’s hand, warm on hers.
She didn’t want to be dissolving into tears at every turn. Men were supposed to enjoy comforting distressed damsels, but it wasn’t how she wanted Lance to think of her. She’d determined long ago not to be a swooning maiden.
‘You’re in shock, like Henry said—but you’ll get through this, and we’ll catch that son of a—’ He stopped himself. ‘Apologies—but the thought of that bastard…’
Picking up his glass, he downed the contents then stood, walking over to the window. He was experiencing the same horrible, helpless feeling, she knew; unable to see who might be behind these attacks or why and, worst of all, worrying what might happen next.
They’d run mad unless they found something else to think about—at least for a while. Surveying the room, she noticed that the circular table had been pushed towards the corner, and was covered in an array of papers. At the centre, holding them down, was a heavy-looking paperweight in the shape of a steam engine.
Quietly, she rose, moving to take a closer look. The papers were maps, criss-crossed in various colours of ink.
‘It’s Argentina.’ He spoke from just behind. ‘The lines are where I’ll be surveying, to the north and the west, finding the best locations for laying track.’
Cecile peered closer, noticing the scale at which the maps were drawn. ‘That’s a lot of ground to cover.’
‘A lot of people to meet with, too.’ Lance stroked the stubble on his chin. ’Not just the landowners but a whole bunch of officials. The railway will help bring cattle and timber into the capital and a range of commodities from the ports out to the smaller towns.’
‘It sounds like a lot of work.’ Cecile could hardly begin to imagine.
Lance rested his fingertips on the table. ‘A lifetime of work—all being well. Some folks, back home, said I was “running away” when I left, but I prefer to think of it as running towards something. Everything back home is my father’s work. I want to prove myself by achieving something for myself.’
‘And for him to be proud of you?’
‘That as well.’
Cecile was aware of his arm almost touching hers, and that his head had turned her way. ‘Men get to do so many interesting things.’
‘Women, too—if they’ve a mind to.’
She took a step to one side, the more easily to face him, and avoid the temptation to simply tip back her head, seeing if he might venture to kiss her. ‘A strong mind is needed to achieve anything of note, but it seems to suit everyone if we women content ourselves with marriage.’
‘Can’t deny that marriage makes an awful lot of people content.’
‘And yet you’re still a bachelor.’
’True, as yet.’ She heard the smile in his voice. ‘I’d like a family when the time’s right, but not until I can offer them stability. I've been putting off settling down until I achieve that.’
She had a sudden vision of him kneeling upon the floor with a child on his back, the little one squealing with giggles as Lance pretended to be a bear.
