Page 4 of Murder on the SS Leviathan
Something within Cecile’s chest fluttered as the figure bent to help the steward to his feet.
She’d caught sight of him earlier, traversing the wooden walkway into their part of the ship, and she’d recognized him at once, for the memory of their first meeting had never left her—even in the midst of the madness that had overtaken her at the Castello di Scogliera.
But, she hadn’t thought to bump into him so soon—the owner of those broad shoulders and distinctive, honey-blonde curls—and hardly under such embarrassing circumstances.
‘Obrigado senhor. Obrigado.’ Regaining his dignity, the steward looked inordinately thankful, though his eyes continued to dart worriedly between his Good Samaritan and Lucrezia, who stood implacable, her hands upon her hips.
Tempted as Cecile was to retreat within the room, there was only one correct course of action. Standing on tiptoe, she peered over Lucrezia’s shoulder.
’Mr. Robinson! How marvellous to see you again.’
Regaining his full height, the handsome specimen blinked rapidly. ‘Lady McCaulay, is that you? I mean to say, it’s a great pleasure to find you here—but, I’d no idea…’
Guiding Lucrezia’s elbow out of her way, there was just enough room for Cecile to extend her hand, which she found grasped by warm fingers and firmly shaken. Blinking, she took in the noble contours of his face. His eyes, piercingly blue, held hers, and the space where her heart resided was filled with a stampede of ferocious proportions. For several moments, neither spoke.
However, Lucrezia’s pointed clearing of her throat brought Cecile to her senses. She was still holding his fingers, or he was holding hers; it was hard to say. Taking a deep breath, she wriggled her hand free.
‘Mr. Robinson, excuse me. The surprise has made me forget myself. I wasn’t at all expecting for us to cross paths again.’ Blushing, she introduced him to Lucrezia.
‘Howdy to you both, and call me Lance, won’t you? It’s good to see a familiar face after all my travels.’
Lucrezia arched an eyebrow. ‘You know each other,cara? Never before do you tell me of such a man in your past.’
‘We met only briefly—on the Paris train, just in passing really, in the corridor…’ Cecile was aware she was gushing. Thinking back to when they’d met, it seemed a lifetime ago. So much had happened. ‘You were to spend three months on the continent, were you not?’ Squaring her shoulders, she willed herself to behave like the grown woman she was. ‘I’d thought you to be in Argentina by now.’
‘You’ve a fine memory, Lady McCaulay—and you’re right o’course. I should’ve taken the crossing back in June, but I got caught up in things. Europe was a real eye-opener.’
Lucrezia smirked. ‘Your eyes enjoyed the feast of everything, I’m sure, Mr. Robinson, and now you take them to sample Latin delights. Such is the life of a young man of means. Always looking for pleasure.’
‘Really, Lucrezia, you mustn’t make such assumptions. Mr. Robinson is a man of business. He’s travelling on from Brazil to Argentina at his father’s behest. Their interest is in railroads and it’s all extremely important. He was in Europe for a series of meetings—not to galavant about.’ For some reason, her tongue was running away with her.
Lucrezia tossed her head. ‘My dear, but of course! If you say it is so, then it must be true, though I wonder at you knowing so much about Mr. Robinson’s intentions—from just a few minutes’ conversation in passing.’
Cecile had no answer to that, but none seemed necessary, for Lucrezia’s attention had returned to the steward, who was now fully recovered and looked inclined to escape while he could.
‘As Mr. Robinson is here, perhaps he can be of help.’ Lucrezia turned a dazzling smile his way. ‘I was explaining to the steward that I require a room with green decor rather than this—’She waved her hand airily behind her. ‘But he seems not to understand, saying the rooms are taken. You can persuade, yes?’
Lance glanced briefly over Lucrezia’s head at the offending interior but, whatever he thought of the room, he didn’t betray in his expression. ‘If that’s the case, I’m happy to be of service. My room’s right here, two doors down, and you’re welcome to it. I can’t rightly say what shade of green you’d call it, but green it is.’
‘Really Lucrezia! We can’t put Mr. Robinson to all this trouble.’ Cecile gave Lucrezia a warning glare, but Lance held up his hands in protest.
‘If a gentleman can’t lend a helping hand now an’ then he’s no gentleman at all—an’ it won’t take more’n a minute or two to move the baggage.’
Lucrezia clapped her hands in delight. ‘Oh yes, a true knight in the shining armour. My thanks to you, Mr. Robinson.’
‘Lance, please—short for Lancelot.’
‘His mother was keen on the tales of Camelot,’ Cecile found herself saying, then felt the heat rush to her cheeks again as all eyes turned upon her.
Lance grinned. ‘Indeed she was, and what would she say if I failed to do such a little thing, to help out.’
With no other obstacle to the arrangement, the steward was soon helping heave Lucrezia’s baggage to the room on the other side of Cecile’s—which Lucrezia found much more to her liking—and Lance’s trunks took their place.
* * *
‘Better, yes?’ Lucrezia kicked the door shut with her heel. Her expression was all smug satisfaction.
Cecile adopted her sternest voice. ‘I’m glad you’re content, and the room is more soothing on the eye’—she had to admit that the more masculine accents were preferable to over-embellished florals—‘but I wish you hadn’t been so hard on the steward. He was only doing his job. When next you see him, you really ought to apologise.’
