Robert

Sunlight glinted off the surface of the water as Carrie leaned over the railing on the First Class promenade. A few moments earlier, she’d heard some children giggling and pointing out in the distance. She thought she’d heard one of the little girls say something about there being dolphins in the water. Try as she may, Carrie didn’t see any, and since the group had since moved on, she reckoned there likely wasn’t anything to see.
But then, the majestic oceanscape before her was beautiful enough. While it would’ve been nice to see a bottlenose or two popping out of the water, she couldn’t complain. The water was so blue out here, so enchanting, she could easily spend hours staring out at it. In fact, she had. Since she’d come aboard the day before, she’d spent an endless amount of time just watching the waves roll off the side of the passenger liner.
Jonathan had been with her a few moments earlier but had seen an acquaintance and went off to have a closer inspection of the lifeboats. He’d invited Carrie to come along, but she had decided to stay behind and stare out at the water. While it made perfect sense to her that Jonathan would want to know everything there was to learn about the lifeboats, considering what had happened to him on Titanic, Carrie refused to be concerned about it. To her, this was the adventure of a lifetime, and she couldn’t imagine anything terrible happening to her or anyone else on this ship. They would arrive in Liverpool as expected, and she’d be on her merry way to Southampton.
The worst thing about this trip would be facing that old hag, Mildred Westmoreland.
“You simply must join me this evening,” a familiar male voice said from just around the corner. Carrie found herself freezing in place, not sure what to do. Was it too late to duck under cover somehow?
“Oh, now, I already told you, I’m busy,” a woman’s voice replied. She giggled, but it was clear to Carrie that the man inviting her to join him was not as desirable as he seemed to think, and if the voice matched the image in her head, she knew why.
For some reason, she was still standing in the same place, despite every alarm in her mind telling her to get out of there. Just as she turned her head, the couple came around the corner, and once again, she found herself face-to-face with Victor Anderson.
Carrie swallowed hard, wishing she’d listened to that voice in her head that had told her to run, but now, his eyes were on hers, and that smile that reminded her a bit of a wolf narrowing its gaze at its prey fell into place on his handsome face.
“Very well then, Lola–”
“It’s Lily,” the woman said sharply, suddenly more interested in him now that he wasn’t so amused by her.
“Right. Lily. I’ll see you later.” Victor let go of Lily’s arm and tipped his hat to Carrie. “Well, Ms. Boxhall. Fancy meeting you here.” He turned the charm up several numbers on the dial and strolled toward her.
Sighing, Carrie reminded herself to be polite. Even though this gentleman had a reputation for being quite the womanizer, he was still a wealthy socialite, and her employers would appreciate it if she could get along with him, she assumed. Not that Ms. Meg or Mr. Ashton would ever expect her to put up with any nonsense from any man.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Anderson.” She managed a smile but didn’t turn away from where she’d been looking out over the railing.
“Come now, Carrie. Don’t you think we should be on a first-name basis after the dinner we shared last night?” His tone was teasing as he sidled up next to her, standing far too close for her liking. The spicy smell of his cologne made even the pleasant salt air fragrance from the ocean seem unsavory, and Carrie found herself turning her head away from him just to inhale.
“I’m not certain we know each other that well,” she said, clearing her throat. “For example, I’m not sure that you understand that, while I am a First Class passenger upon this ship, in reality, I’m nothing more than a lady in waiting.” While she hated to speak ill of herself, as she’d worked hard to gain her position with Ms. Meg, Carrie hoped to remind Mr. Anderson that he was of a different social class than her in life outside of Lusitania. At the very least, perhaps she could feel out his motivations.
His sly grin widened, showing his pearly white teeth. “Yes, of course I’ve deduced that. But here, you and I are equals, aren’t we, Carrie? Wouldn’t you like to take this fantasy of yours of being a socialite one step further and spend some time with the wealthiest man on the ship?” His confident smile told her he assumed she was just playing hard to get and would cave soon enough at the notion of sharing his company–and his bed.
Carrie took a deep breath and turned away from him again. She wasn’t that kind of woman. She’d had romantic relationships in the past, the kind that never really led to anything, but she had loved those gentlemen, each in their own way, and had learned something about herself in each of those relationships. Likewise, she’d found what it was she was truly looking for in a man, and at her age, she was ready to find the right one and begin to think about her future.
The last thing she wanted or needed was to be the toy of a wealthy man to be discarded the moment they landed in Liverpool.
“Mr. Anderson,” she began, but she didn’t get very far before someone else spoke his name as well, another gentleman, and when Carrie turned to see who it was addressing the millionaire, her breath caught in her lungs.
“Mr. Anderson?” A smooth, deep voice Carrie recognized but hadn’t heard in a number of years sang to her ear as she turned her head to look at a familiar face.
Handsome, with strong features, dark hair, and warm brown eyes, the man came to a stop right in front of her, but his attention was on Victor, not her. In fact, he hadn’t seemed to notice her at all. In Carrie’s mind, that was a good thing; it would give her a moment to compose herself.
“What is it, Robert?” Victor asked, huffing in annoyance. “Can’t you see that I’m busy?”
“That telegraph you were expecting from Mr. Peterson came through,” Robert continued, holding out a piece of paper. “You said you wanted it right away.” It was then that he turned his attention to Carrie. “Beg your pardon, miss–Miss… Boxhall?”
Carrie felt her cheeks heat as Robert’s chocolate eyes melted over her. “Hello, Robert,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling as if she was failing miserably. “It’s lovely to see you.”
“You as well.” His smile reached his eyes as he took her in. “It’s been so long. I don’t think I’ve seen you since the wedding.”
“That’s right,” Carrie started, but before she could finish her sentence, Victor interrupted.
“If you don’t mind, Robert, I think you have duties to attend to elsewhere, don’t you?” Victor moved a few steps closer to her, resting his hand on her arm.
Instinctively, Carrie pulled away. “Really, Mr. Anderson, as I was trying to tell you before, I don’t really feel that you and I have much in common.”
“And I believe I told you to call me Victor.” His smile widened, once again showing his teeth. His canines seemed particularly sharp today.
Carrie cleared her throat. “I believe it’s time for me to meet Mr. Lane. We made an appointment to meet up earlier.” She took a step away from Victor, brushing against Robert as she did so. Tiny pinpricks of electricity shot up her arm. She wished she had time to linger, to discuss the last time they’d seen one another. Robert was right–it had been at Ms. Meg and Mr. Ashton’s wedding. He had been in the service of one of Mr. Ashton’s other associates at the time, but he’d spoken of going to work for Mr. Anderson. So when she’d established who Victor was at dinner the night before, she could only hope that Robert was here.
Now, here he was, standing before her, a concerned look on his face, and she was in the process of trying to move away from him, even though it was the last thing on earth she wanted to do. How many times had she dreamt of him since that night? At the wedding, he’d asked her to dance, and he’d swept her away in his arms. They’d laughed and whispered to one another about what they would do one day if they were carefree and able to follow their ambitions, rather than being tied down to their employers. Perhaps it was the wine speaking, but Carrie had told him then that she wanted to run away with him.
It had all been wishful thinking, though, and time had marched on without either of them even speaking to one another. She had considered trying to track him down a time or two but was never brave enough to do so.
“Carrie,” Victor’s arm on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts. He pulled her back a little more forcefully than he should have, and her footing failed her. The shoes she was wearing were just as foreign to her as the new gown. Carrie felt herself slipping on the slick promenade decking.
Another arm reached out to grab her. Robert’s quick reflexes prevented her from falling as he hooked her around the waist. “Careful there, Miss Boxhall.” His tone was gentle, reassuring. But when he lifted his eyes to his employer, his expression changed. “I’d be more than happy to escort Miss Boxhall to her appointment, sir, so that you can respond to your telegraph.”
Victor cleared his throat, the pressure from his hand on her shoulder not changing as he said, “That won’t be necessary. Carrie and I are good friends. Better friends than the two of you–I’m certain.”
It was a warning. One Carrie heard loud and clear. Victor wanted Robert to leave them be.
Yet, his warm brown eyes landed soundly on her face again. His eyebrows raised inquisitively. Did Carrie truly want him to leave her alone with Victor?
Of course, she didn’t. But she also didn’t want Robert to get in trouble. She looked around and saw several couples and families milling about. Victor couldn’t hurt her here. “It’s fine,” she assured Robert, missing the warmth of his hand as he withdrew it from her. “Thank you, Robert.”
He continued to hold her gaze for a moment before nodding and returning his attention to Victor. “I’ll be in the room then, sir.”
“Yes, yes,” Victor said dismissively. “I know you have much work to do.”
Robert gave her another look to make sure she was all right and then turned and walked away. Carrie couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes until he’d disappeared into the crowd.
As soon as he was gone, Victor resituated himself so that he was standing in front of Carrie, his hand still on her shoulder, and her back to the railing. “Now, Miss Carrie… where were we?” Victor’s smile was sly. Some women might’ve found him cunning, but Carrie felt her stomach flip over.
She took a deep breath, not sure what to say. “We were—”
“Just about to meet some friends. Pardon me, Mr. Anderson, but we can’t be late.” Jonathan swooped in out of nowhere, brushing past Mr. Anderson and taking her by the arm. Carrie’s feet were moving before she could even process what had happened. She heard Victor muttering to himself behind her, but Jonathan didn’t slow down–and neither of them looked back.