Voyage in Time: The Titanic (Out of Time #9)

by Monique Martin

  Elizabeth laughed, as did the others, but the chill persisted. Leave it to her to make that gaffe on the Titanic of all places.

  Kimball checked his watch. “Looks like it’s just about time for Sergei’s. We’re all going, aren’t we?”

  Tonight was Katarov’s after dinner cocktail party. He’d somehow managed to convince the staff to let him take over most of the First Class lounge for it.

  Kimball caught Simon’s eye. “Your invitation should have been delivered this morning. I spoke to Sergei about it this morning.”

  An embarrassed steward had delivered it earlier that day. Simon nodded and tapped his breast pocket where he’d stashed the invitation.

  “Shall we all walk up together?” the doctor suggested.

  Margaret put her napkin down on the table. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Niels stood and pulled out Margaret’s chair for her. She wound her arm through his.

  Across the room, Edmund saw them leaving and, with a quick nod, set off to follow.

  Simon helped Elizabeth up and frowned down at her. “Don’t tell me you’re actually worried about that nonsense.”

  “If it were anywhere else.”

  “It would still be complete rubbish.”

  “So,” Kimball said, insinuating himself into their conversation. “How do you know about this mythology stuff?”

  Simon looked at him with one raised eyebrow. “They’re called books.”

  Kimball didn’t see the insult and laughed. “Right. Very good. But I mean, really. You study it or something?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You know, I met a professor today and he said that Titanic, the name, it’s from this race of gods that ruled the world before man. Crazy, right?”

  “Technically, the Titans ruled the world before the Olympian gods.”

  Kimball laughed. “You sound just like him. You gotta meet him.”

  He scanned the room and called out, “Professor!” to an elderly white-haired gentleman.

  Simon looked at Elizabeth for help, but she was enjoying his discomfort. “I’ll catch up. You go ahead.”

  Simon’s look promised retribution as he was dragged across the room by Kimball. That left Elizabeth alone with Antonio and the countess, who looked a little more pinched than usual.

  Antonio leaned down to listen to something she said and then nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  He nodded. “Lady Trauttmansdorff is just tired. Needs to rest.”

  The countess muttered something Elizabeth couldn’t hear.

  “Rest,” he said again. “Schlaf.”

  She shook her head. “Luft.”

  He summoned a steward who brought over a wheelchair for her.

  Antonio frowned. “She wants to take the air. I tell her it’s too cold, that she must rest, and she defies me.”

  He looked down at the old woman fondly. Theirs was an odd relationship.

  When the steward arrived with the chair, he helped the countess into it. Elizabeth took her other arm and together they got the older woman situated.

  “Thank you,” he said and then put a blanket across the countess’ lap.

  He eased the woman’s chair around. “We are heading up to A Deck, as are you. We can go together?”

  Remembering what Simon had said earlier about keeping a closer eye on him, Elizabeth didn’t want to miss an opportunity.

  “All right.”

  He wheeled the countess out of the dining saloon and through the reception room toward the bank of elevators on the backside of the grand staircase.

  Elizabeth doubted Antonio was the sort to murder someone. He was the classic “lover not a fighter” type, but Simon had made a fuss about the countess’ allegiance to her country. Maybe there was something there.

  The three elevators were as elegant and elaborate as the rest of the great ship. Three cars sat behind intricate grilled gates. Lavish woodwork framed each with carved pilasters on either side and a detailed pediment above. A column of illuminated panels showed where each car was.

  Theirs arrived and the attendant opened the interior gate, then the outer. Antonio wheeled the countess inside. With the lounging sofa at the back, there was barely room for all of them.

  Elizabeth squeezed in and pressed up against Antonio when the operator moved past her to close the gates.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  He smiled down at her, amused and pleased. Somehow she knew Simon would be neither. She edged away from him as far as she could.

  “A Deck, please,” Antonio said.

  There was no buttoned panel inside. Instead, the operator rotated a lever inside a round brass metal casing. Left was up and right was down. How he stopped it, Elizabeth had no idea.

  “Any luck with the stolen jewels?” she asked, hoping to distract Antonio from wherever his mind had gone.

  “No, but Lady Trauttmansdorff is well insured. I assume you are as well?”

  She wasn’t, but it wasn’t the jewelry she missed. “Of course,” she lied. “But some pieces … there was a key, not worth anything really, but … sentimental value.”

  He frowned and nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

  The ride was surprisingly smooth. She’d expected it to creak and lurch, but it didn’t. Before she knew it, they came to a stop with a slight bump. She was pressed up against Antonio again as the operator moved to open the double gates. She stepped out quickly and he followed.

  She opened the door to the deck and Antonio wheeled the countess out. He positioned her near some of the wooden deck chairs and set the brake.

  Elizabeth waited by the railing. Once he’d finished, he joined her.

  “Beautiful.”

  It was. And strange. On a clear night, like it was now, the stars weren’t just in the sky above, but all around them. They weren’t lost in the lights of the city as they were at home. Here, stars covered the entire sky all the way down to the horizon in a sparkling dome.

  Elizabeth felt Antonio move a little closer and she eased away, making it look like she was admiring the view, which wasn’t hard.

  “How did you meet the countess?” she asked.

  He glanced over at her. “A mutual friend.”

  “And you live in Vienna? Is that right?” She’d heard as much from Mrs. Eldsworth.

  He smiled, pleased. “Some of the time. You have been making inquiries?”

  “No, I was just—”

  He moved a little closer. “Curious. About me?”

  It took her a moment to understand what he meant. “No, not like that.”

  “Are you sure? I’ve heard Englishmen are selfish lovers, are they not?”

  “I’m very happily married.”

  “Many of the women I know are. But satisfied …?”

  “I really don’t think we should talk about that.”

  “We don’t have to talk at all.”

  Here she’d thought she was going to be clever and examine him for clues and he had a very different sort of examination in mind. It was clear he hadn’t taken her earlier rebuff seriously. To him, it had simply been foreplay.

  She glared at him now. “I think we do. I’m very happily married. You shouldn’t have sent the flowers. I don’t know what you think is going on, but it’s not going on.”

  She moved her hand in a circle to encompass the space between them. “There’s no here … here.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “I do not understand.”

  “This,” she gestured to the space between them again, putting a little extra in for emphasis, “isn’t. I’m not in the market for a … paid companion.”

  “Ah,” he said, smiling. “No, no, I did not mean that. Forgive me if you have misunderstood. What I am saying is, I would make love to you just for the pleasure it would bring me.”

  There was a short moment where Elizabeth could only stare at him, not sure she’d heard correctly. But something in his smile assured her she
had.

  “Ooookay.” She shook her head and took a step away. “That’s not going to happen.”

  He pulled back surprised. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded slowly.

  He frowned. “You are declining my offer?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything.”

  He laughed. “It’s not my first time, but perhaps my most regretful.”

  She was skeptical. “Really?”

  “Yes. I find that I actually like you.”

  “And you don’t like most of them? What a horrible way to live.”

  He shrugged. “Always a lover, but never loved, I’m afraid.”

  His tone was light, but there was a hint of sadness in his expression. A hint of truth. Despite his advances, Elizabeth wanted to reassure him, but what could she say?

  “There must be someone.”

  “There is always someone, but I am weak. How else can a man such as myself afford such elegance?”

  The countess gave a loud snorting snore then and they both laughed.

  “I should take her to her room,” he said.

  “And I should go join my husband.”

  He nodded. “Tell him he is a very lucky man.”

  She smiled. “I’m the lucky one.”

  “Good night,” he said with a bow, then went to take the countess back inside.

  Elizabeth watched him go.

  “There you are,” Simon said as he appeared just as the countess and Antonio went inside. “Everything all right? Was he bothering you?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “We’ve come to a mutual understanding.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Simon said and was about to say something else when Kimball poked his head out of the door.

  “Come on you two! They’re about to open the champagne.”

  Simon waved to him and turned back to Elizabeth. “I cannot get rid of that man.”

  “He’s got a pretty bad man crush on you, I think.”

  Simon groaned.

  “I think you’ll persevere. Somehow,” she said with a grin and took his arm. “So, what did he say about champagne?”

  “None for you, remember?”

  It was her turn to groan.

  “I’m sure you’ll persevere,” he said with a smile as he led them back inside. “Somehow.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  ALTHOUGH IT HAD ONLY been officially going for about ten minutes, the party was in full swing. Everyone had come straight from dinner for drinks or more drinks, as the case may be, and with little else to do at night, they were ready to party; party in a controlled Edwardian, Downton Abbey sort of way.

  Part of Titanic’s orchestra sat nestled in a corner of the room and played a jaunty little tune Elizabeth had learned was called The Mosquito’s Parade. It sounded like the soundtrack of a happy-go-lucky comedy sequence from a silent movie. It was strange to think in just two day’s time these same men would play music for the passengers for a very different reason. It had always been one of the things that stuck with her about the disaster—the band playing on deck to soothe panicked passengers as the ship went down.

  “Elizabeth?” Simon asked.

  She shook herself from her reverie. “Sorry. Okay, now, if I can’t have champagne, can I have caviar?”

  She’d seen Katarov’s enormous display when they’d first come in.

  “I’m afraid not. I highly doubt it’s pasteurized.”

  She frowned. “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

  “I’m sure there are some soda crackers around. We can scrape the salt off them together.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, but secretly enjoyed his teasing and his concern.

  “Very funny. When we get home, I’m going to make you go out to buy ice cream and pickles every night.”

  He smiled down at her. “And I will gladly go. But first, let’s make sure we get home.”

  He was right, and that started with making sure Niels was safe. She scanned the crowd for him. He and Edmund were standing off to the side of the impromptu dance floor, drinks in hand.

  She and Simon joined them.

  “Everything all right?” she asked.

  “We continue to live,” Niels said. “So, yes.”

  “Have you learned anything that might help us narrow down our suspects?” Simon asked.

  “It might be coincidence, but you know how I feel about those,” he added with a wry smile. “However, we have learned that the Rivets changed their cabins shortly after my near fall.”

  Simon glanced over at Elizabeth. “Really? The Rivets.”

  “Supposedly their bath ceased to function properly at just that time and they asked to be relocated.”

  “From D to B, or, at least they tried to get on B Deck,” Edmund said. “No rooms, so they had to go to C.”

  Niels frowned. “It could be coincidence, but the timing is suspect. The day I moved from D to B.”

  “That’s not the only thing that’s suspect,” Elizabeth said. “They are. Ours, I mean. Suspects.”

  She told them what they’d learned from the wireless logs and the general suspicion they’d now narrowed down.

  “How did you hear about it? The move, I mean,” Simon asked.

  Edmund nodded his head toward Kimball who was laughing at something hilarious Sergei must have said.

  “He is quite the gossip,” Niels said. “Also told us that Mr. Sheridan might be having an affair with Miss McBride and, word is, that our own dear Cousin Edmund is rumored to be the resident jewel thief.”

  “He told you that?”

  “He said he knew it wasn’t true and was only trying to help stop such a vicious lie.”

  “By spreading others?” Elizabeth said.

  “So it would seem.”

  Simon glared over at him. “He does like to stick his nose into things, doesn’t he?”

  “I think he means well,” Niels said. “In his way.”

  Simon grunted.

  His dislike for Kimball aside, the man had been helpful whether he meant to be or not.

  “Have you two had any run-ins with the Rivets?” she asked.

  “No,” Edmund said. “We’ve seen them around.”

  “Quite a bit actually,” Niels added with a thoughtful frown.

  Edmund nodded. “That’s true. George was at the gym right after we went in and she was—”

  “In the hall when we got back,” Niels finished.

  “Come to think of it, they were both at the—”

  “Café earlier.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you two are finishing each other’s sentences.”

  Both men looked a little embarrassed. Theirs was an unlikely, but beautiful, bromance.

  “Well, if the Rivets are who we fear they are,” Simon said, “all the more reason to be extra careful.”

  He looked at their drinks. “And not too many of those.”

  Simon Cross - pooping parties since 1990.

  “Well, they aren’t here now,” Elizabeth said, looking around the room.

  “Still, we should remain vigilant.”

  “Agreed. You do that. Edmund and I are going to dance.”

  Edmund grinned and held out his drink for someone to take. Unfortunately, he held it out toward Simon, who looked from it to him with a mixture of amusement and surprise.

  “Sorry,” Edmund said quickly and shoved the glass toward Niels. Then he looked back to Simon. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  Simon shook his head and said with a smile, “It wouldn’t matter if I did.”

  Elizabeth kissed his cheek, took Edmund’s hand and started toward the impromptu dance floor.

  “You two stay alert now,” she said over her shoulder earning her a chuckle from Simon.

  The band played a slow waltz and Edmund took Elizabeth into his arms and moved smoothly around the small patch of floor.

  �
��You’re good,” she said, surprised.

  “Clara likes to dance. I took lessons. Broke six toes on the instructor,” he said with a grin.

  “Six?”

  “Both feet.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Well, you seem to have gotten the hang of it.”

  It wasn’t a complex dance, a basic waltz, but he was a good partner, confident and relaxed.

  “I’m sure Clara will be impressed.”

  He sighed. “I hope she’ll see me when we get there.”

  If we get there, Elizabeth thought.

  “I’m sure she will.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Between you and me, I was a bit of an ass—I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  “I’ve heard worse.”

  He sighed again. “I wanted her to stay with me. Made a fuss. I’m not very good at letting go.”

  “Sometimes you have to.”

  He nodded. “Well, I didn’t have much choice in the end. But, I guess we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

  “My money’s on you, Edmund.”

  He laughed and smiled then tried a small spin. Just as he did, a wave of dizziness hit her and she stumbled. Edmund caught her and held her upright as darkness began to close in like the end of an old movie. She shook her head quickly and took in a sharp breath. The encroaching blackness paused and then receded.

  “Elizabeth?”

  “Just a little dizzy.”

  He didn’t look so sure, which was a good thing because she honestly wasn’t either. She took a few steadying breaths, but the sense of vertigo didn’t go.

  “Maybe a glass of water?” she said.

  Edmund looked concerned and turned away to search the crowd for Simon.

  She squeezed his arm to draw his attention back to her. Simon was the last thing she needed right now. He’d lock her in their rooms for the rest of the trip.

  “I’m fine, really. Just a little light-headed.”

  He frowned, but nodded, then took her arm and led her over to the bar. She sat down in a club chair in an alcove near the bar and adjacent cloakroom.

  Edmund loomed over her for a moment, frowning, his brows drawn together, his lips pursed.

  “I’m fine. Just thirsty.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then walked the short distance over to the bar and ordered her a glass of water.

  Elizabeth breathed in and out, slowly and surely. The vertigo was beginning to pass. God help her, though. If Charlotte was this much trouble only a few weeks into her pregnancy ….