by Sara Brown
Chapter 3
I had completely forgotten about him up to this point, arguing with my mother and all. The funny thing was that the thoughts rushed back into my head as if they’d never left. Here I was, panicking over seeing him again, but I wondered if he even remembered me.
He was taller than I remembered, somehow surpassing my fiancée by several inches. His shoulders had become broader, and his tailored suit only accentuated the hidden musculature underneath his clothes. I would have a hard time believing this was the same person I knew two years ago if it wasn’t for the unruly brown hair and youthful dimples. When his gaze fell on me his confident step seemed to falter. His eyes flickered over me repeatedly as he assessed me.
“This is Stanley Brighton, and his fiancée Miss Ashby.” They clasped hands in a masculine greeting and I held my breath. Would Henry even greet me? Maybe he would ignore me—
But I never finished that thought, because he turned to me and said: “Miss Ashby.” There was a mischievous glint to his eyes as he regarded me. As if that wasn’t enough, he took my free gloved hand, and placed a hot kiss on the back of it…all while keeping eye contact with me.
“A pleasure.” I felt his scalding touch all over, but not enough. Finally I realized my place and all but yanked my hand from his.
“Likewise.” I said, trying to sound strong. The perky blond clinging from his hand suddenly greeted me, getting too close for comfort. Who was she, anyway? She had fair hair and blue eyes like Annabelle, but where Anna was tall and willowy this girl was short. She was short in a cute way.
And I hated her.
Stanley was too busy talking to Mr. Royce to realize anything was out of the ordinary. Part of me felt annoyed that he didn’t even bother to care for me, at least in public. Mother was shooting us a curious glance from a few tables over. It was obvious that Henry had also caught her attention.
They say that you can never forget your first love. And right now, it was proving exceptionally true for me. When my father drowned three years ago, mother decided we needed a change of scenery to move on with our lives. So we sailed to England, where I met Henry. And I fell stupidly in love with him.
I hadn’t realized how lost in thought I was until Mr. Royce turned to me. “Where will you two dine, dear?” He inquired, placing a hand over his protruding gut like a pregnant woman.
“I was planning on eating with my mother—”
“You’re welcome to dine with us.” Henry interrupted casually. His gaze was firmly set on me, a teasing grin lingering on his face.
A teasing grin that I wanted to beat right out of him. How could he do this to me? I was intent on putting some space between and forget this ever happened, but he kept dragging me back.
“We would be honored to dine with you.” No, Stanley, you would be honored to dine with him. How angry would Stanley be if I politely left him to sit at another table? Most of the passengers had already been seated for dinner, so we found seating at a round table. My armchair was so comfortable that I had the resist the urge to relax my stiff spine and lean into it.
Half way through dinner I was admiring Lady Duff Gordon’s dress instead of paying attention to the conversation around me. “I’m so excited to shop in New York! They say that the clothes made there are even more fashionable than in Paris, sometimes!” The blonde, as it turned out, was Penelope Royce, the daughter of Mr. Royce. She had a tendency of chattering endlessly.
“Are you excited to go shopping, Miss Ashby?” Her question brought me back to reality.
“Yes, of course. Although I’m afraid there won’t be much time to shop before the wedding.” I said, trying to change the subject and attract the least amount of attention to myself. The food was delicious, and the orchestra playing in the background made Penelope’s annoying voice slightly more bearable.
If Henry intended to remind me of our...history, then I had no problem showing him I had moved on and was on the verge of marriage. Even though I just tried to break my engagement less than an hour ago (Henry didn’t have to know that).
“Wedding? How fortunate you must be.” Penelope said wistfully, taking a careful sip of her wine. From where he sat across from me, Henry tensed up suddenly and his features darkened. His green eyes were staring at intensely, but I avoided them.
“You must be excited, Miss Ashby.” He said, with a tone so cool that it nearly gave me chills.
“I’m very happy.” My equally detached response even took me by surprise, but I was silently thankful my reply didn’t waver. He couldn’t know about his control over me. Maybe it was pride, or maybe it was heartbreak, but I wouldn’t let him see how weak he’d made me in the past. How weak I felt, right now, as he stared through me.
The natural flow of conversation was eventually taken up once more amongst the table, thankfully excluding me. Luckily I’ve been taught to ignore men’s talk long enough that I could even manage to forget Henry for a couple of long minutes, until I glanced at him and had to start all over again. The pattern continued several times before I felt a cool hand on my shoulder. My head snapped up to look at mother.
“Ophelia, may I have a word with you?” I nodded and we walked arm-in-arm out of the dining saloon, lingering in the reception room just before the grand staircase.
“Henry’s here.” She said as she paced in front of me. I didn’t know if to laugh at her lack of tact or groan in annoyance.
“I was eating dinner with him; trust me when I tell you that I know.” Mother gave me a reproaching look for my use of irony. Good job, Ophelia.
“How do you feel?” Goodness, she sounded like our Doctor back in London. How do you feel about having to meet the arse you broke your heart two years ago? Well, let’s see...
“It doesn’t matter.” I said, carefully avoiding an answer.
“What if he tells Stanley everything?” I kind of wished he did, because Stanley would end the engagement for sure. “Ophelia, you have to make sure he remains silent.”
“I know.” She nodded in satisfaction and placed her hand over my head in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture.
“Good. Get back to the cabin as soon as you finish dinner. And don’t keep Stanley from cigars and brandy after dinner, either.” I huffed at her incessant instructions and rolled my eyes.
“Right. Why don’t we let him get pissed drunk with Henry so that he could find out the story right from the source?” Mother gasped softly at my vulgar remark.
“Don’t speak like that in public!” She hissed, before making sure no one was heard me. “Matter of fact, don’t speak like that anywhere.” She scolded crossly, staring hotly at me for a few seconds before uncertainty clouded her judgment.
“...do you really think Henry might say something?” I pondered the question carefully and shrugged. He was so focused on me during dinner that I wouldn’t put anything past him.
“It didn’t seem like he let it go. He might do something rash.” Mother placed a hand over her temple gently and closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. She never really liked Henry to begin with...she thought him too unruly.
“Let’s pray that he’ll keep his mouth shut.” She murmured shakily, leaving me to stare after her as she entered the elevators and disappeared from view.
“Well, that was a nice exit.” Henry’s raspy voice was right beside me, his warm breath teasing my ear. I whirled around and put some space between us.
“She wasn’t feeling well, Mr. Spencer.” He snorted back a laugh and looked at me skeptically.
“Mr. Spencer? Please, you know me much better than that.”
“So I thought, but you’re rather good at surprising me.” I said begrudgingly, angry that he’d even pursue me after what I went through.
“That was a misunderstanding.” His voice had softened, almost sounding pleading. Like he was begging.
Good. I always pictured him like that, begging me for forgiveness. But it does nothing but remind me of the past, and suddenly it doesn’t pleas
e me anymore.
“There’s nothing I have to say, or anything I want to listen to.” I whisper, not being able to speak any louder. Because I was scared if I started truly speaking I would never stop. And then he’d know that I didn’t hate him at all.
My answer hardened his resolve, and all traces of vulnerability were gone.
“You might not want to listen, but I’m sure Stanley would.” He said mockingly. Fear clouded my face as I looked up at me, and he smiled in triumph. He’d found my weakness.
“So your fiancée really has no idea about me. I suspected as much.”
“Please don’t tell him anything.” His large hand came up to his chin, mulling my request over thoughtfully.
“Convince me.”
I blinked confusedly. “How?”
He grinned wolfishly. “It’s simple, really. A kiss.” My heart started pounding as soon as the words left his lips.
“Have you lost your mind? Are you blackmailing me?”
“Me, blackmail you? Not at all.” He answered innocently.
“You’ll have to find something else you desire, because I am not kissing you.” Having to kiss him almost scared me more than Stanley discovering the past.
Henry frowned and turned to leave. “I suppose brandy and cigars will be rather interesting tonight.” Dare I call on his bluff?
“Wait.” He froze mid-step and turned back to face me with an indulgent smile. Why did he always get the better of me? “I...fine. I’ll do it.”
“Meet me in the promenade deck. You have ten minutes.” He instructed, making sure to look over his shoulder.
“This is the last time. Ever.” I said feebly. He pursed his lips and smiled hugely like he always did when he got his way. “We’ll see about that.”
“Stop smiling like that!” I bit out quickly, unable to help my temper. He coughed a chuckle and walked away, waving his hand behind him.
