Victor

Robert tried not to rush back to his room. He knew he was letting his emotion carry him away, and he didn’t want to be rude to the other passengers he passed in the narrow halls as he found his way back to his room–Victor’s room, that was.
A prominent couple Robert recognized from all the parties he’d attended over the years in service to others came out of their room and almost ran into him. Robert skirted out of the way, plastering himself against the wall as the so-called gentleman turned and gave him a nasty glare.
“Pardon me, sir,” Robert said, tipping his head. The older man only made a “hmph” noise in the back of his throat and led his wife on down the hall. Taking a deep breath, Robert did his best to let it go. It was clear by his suit–his uniform, in actuality–that he was only in the First Class portion of the ship because he was a servant.
Perhaps that was all he would ever be.
No, he couldn’t think like that. One day, he’d be a First Class passenger here because he was wealthy and important, just like Victor Anderson and the others. As he came to the correct room, he slipped inside, trying to convince himself that his dream could come true.
Robert went about the tasks Victor had assigned him earlier that morning, including ironing his suit for dinner that evening, and as he did so, he let his mind wander. He’d saved up plenty of money over the course of the years. His last employer, Matthew, had been a terrible drunk when Robert had first met him, but he’d turned it around once he’d gotten married. The man had paid well, though. It was a pity that they’d parted ways. Once he wed, Matthew became a changed man, one who was more than bearable to be around. But his wife had recently inherited several staff members from her late parents, and one of them was a liegeman who’d served her family well over the years. She actually thought of him as a grandfather. Therefore, Robert was replaced.
He’d found a job with Victor pretty quickly, which he’d been grateful for at the time. Running the hot iron over Victor’s already wrinkle-free white dress shirt, he thought about how silly he’d been. Not that Victor didn’t pay well, but the arrogant playboy was difficult to put up with. Unlike his last employer, who had been more like a friend or a mentor to him, Victor barked orders at him. He often spoke to him like he thought he was an idiot, or perhaps an uneducated child. In actuality, Robert had attended a few years of college but had to drop out before he finished his engineering degree because his mother had taken ill, and he needed to provide for her. While a good deal of his earnings still went to provide for her, he’d managed to save up some.
And it was the thought of that money that kept his mind occupied as he continued to run the hot iron over the rest of Victor’s suit until it was so well pressed it wouldn’t wrinkle for hours, no matter what Victor found himself doing.
Robert shook his head, hanging the suit back up and turning to his next assignment, polishing Victor’s shoes. The thought of the sort of trouble that man could get himself into left him swearing under his breath. How many times had he woken Victor up for an important meeting only to find him with a woman or two in his bed? Robert had always been the one to help them find their stockings, get them presentable, and walk them out, always assuring them that Mr. Anderson would call on them soon.
Of course, the jackass never did.
Taking a deep breath, Robert continued to run the brush over Victor’s shoes until he could see his face in the reflection. These were perfect for later that evening when Mr. Anderson would find himself busy entertaining the other rich folks in the First Class dining room.
Well, not all of them were rich.
Carrie.
He let himself think of her for the first time since he’d been dismissed from her presence. For a moment there, he’d thought perhaps he should stay and make sure the hand Mr. Anderson had on her was welcome, but Carrie had let him know she was fine in her own way. He pictured her beautiful face, and for just a brief time, allowed himself to slip back into how they’d interacted at the Ashtons’ wedding. She’d been so joyful that night, so full of spirit. They’d made promises to one another that someday they’d enjoy another dance, and maybe, just maybe, they’d go off on their own adventures one day.
It had been a silly conversation, fueled by wine and the knowledge that the woman she worked for, someone she cared deeply for, was happy and marrying the man of her dreams.
Still, as Robert lifted his head for a moment and looked out at the deep blue water around him, he couldn’t help but wonder; when Carrie Boxhall closed her eyes at night, who was the man she was dreaming about?
Scoffing, he mumbled, “Not me,” and continued to polish the shoe. No, it looked as if she had done well for herself. Perhaps she had already married some wealthy gentleman, and that’s what she was doing aboard Lusitania dressed in such a fancy gown. He swallowed hard, trying not to let it get to him. Carrie was a kind woman, a beautiful woman, and she deserved all the happiness in the world. He could never give her that kind of life.
Or could he? Setting Victor’s shoe aside and picking up the other one, he thought about the invention he was working on. He’d started sketching the idea for it back when he’d worked for Matthew. Being a good man, when his employer had noticed what he was working on, he’d offered some advice. Not that Matthew was an engineer. But he knew people–lots of people–and in a matter of days, Robert found himself speaking with some of the most brilliant minds in all of New York City. They’d given him some pointers about how to improve his idea, and then they’d helped him find the right people to move forward with the project. He’d even gotten a prototype made.
Then, the situation had changed, and Robert had found himself working for Victor Anderson, one of the most arrogant men in all of New York. Anderson hadn’t cared at all to listen to Robert’s ideas for improving motor coach engines to make them run more efficiently on less fuel. He’d told him he was a foolish man and needed to focus on the important things in life–like getting his dress shoes ready for dinner. Since then, Robert had done very little with his invention.
In times like this, he wondered if it was a possibility he could actually make something of it. If he had the backing of someone more like Matthew, someone who was kind and generous, perhaps he could get his invention in front of the right people, and he could make his ideas a reality.
The sound of the stateroom door opening brought his attention out of his thoughts and back to the shoe–and the man who would be wearing it. Robert continued to brush while Victor slammed things around for a few minutes.
Eventually, he wheeled around to face Robert. “Why the hell do you think it’s all right to come and interrupt me when I’m obviously engaged in speaking to someone?”
Robert looked up, eyebrows raised, trying to choose an answer that wouldn’t make his boss even more upset. Of all the choices raising through his mind, none of them seemed benign enough for the angry millionaire. All he could manage to eke out was, “I beg your pardon, sir.”
“Beg my pardon?” Victor gave a half-amused, half-irritated chuckle. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”
Apparently, even that wasn’t good enough for the man. Robert decided not to say more if he could help it. Victor got in moods like this whenever his plans with a woman went awry. All Robert could do now was hope this meant that Carrie had turned him down. If she was indeed married, there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d go sauntering off with Anderson. Robert knew her well enough to understand that she was the kind of woman who would stay loyal. But then, he also thought she wasn’t the sort of girl who’d be interested in Victor and his approach anyway. It was always clear his boss liked his women fast and loose. Carrie was too smart to fall for his flattering.
“Answer me!” Victor insisted, tossing a few papers from the table in Robert’s direction. They fell harmlessly on the floor.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Robert began, keeping his tone in check as much as he could. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I thought you would want to know about the message. I’m sure Ms. Boxhall didn’t mind.”
“She didn’t mind one bit.” Victor went over to the bar and poured himself a glass of scotch. It seemed a little early to be drinking, but who was Robert to tell him what to do? “I’m gonna see her later tonight.”
Robert paused mid-swipe, wondering if that were true. Would Carrie really go out with a man like Victor? Surely not. He cleared his throat and put all of his attention on the task at hand, not willing to let his imagination get the better of him.
“Dame like that can’t say no to a fellow like me. You know she still works for the Ashtons, right?” He laughed and tossed back his scotch like it was water. “She can smell the money on me, though. She wants what I’ve got. Too bad all she’s gonna get is what’s in my pants.” Robert didn’t turn his head to watch the man crudely grab his crotch. He’d seen Victor do that enough times before to know exactly what he was up to.
Instead, Robert pretended like the shoe in his hand still needed polishing until Victor had had enough self-indulgence. “I’m going to go lie down for a bit. All that brandy in the smoking room last night is getting to me a little. Wake me up in an hour.”
“Yes, sir.” Robert glanced at the clock across the room and noted the time. He would do as he was told, but he knew Victor wouldn’t be ready to get up in an hour. He’d sleep for two at least.
Once his employer had retired to his bed chambers, Robert put his shoes where they belonged and tidied up, putting away the polishing kit and picking up the papers off the floor.
Carrie wasn’t married–but she was seeing Victor later that night. It didn’t add up for him. What other possibilities were there?
Either Victor was flat-out lying, which was a possibility, or he was exaggerating. Maybe he just meant he’d see Carrie at dinner.
Was she really going out with him? Robert would find out soon enough as Victor would bring her back to these very chambers to have his way with her. Could Robert stand in the other room while Victor used up the most interesting woman he’d ever met? He didn’t think so.
Sighing, he let his eyes focus back on the water outside. He hoped that Victor wasn’t telling him the truth and Carrie truly wanted to have nothing to do with the man because, if what Victor said was true, then Carrie wasn’t the woman he’d always thought she was.