He smiled wryly as I babbled on, doing my best to sound amusing and carefree. A girl with no worries.
“Go ahead and laugh, but I’d never left the state of Ohio before, let alone the United States, so you mustn’t poke fun. I’m proud to say I have put those fears behind me and given myself over to the romance of shipboard life. It’s rather dreamy, don’t you think?”
“I envy your youthful enthusiasm.” Matthew sighed as his gaze drifted away and over the water.
To say he was handsome would hardly convey the overall effect of his looks. He had all the features you’d expect in a good-looking man: narrow, straight nose; high cheekbones and strong chin; shoulders and arms that suggested a streamlined strength. But there was none of the heartiness or brash self-confidence that usually goes along with physical perfection. His lips curved slightly downward, and his dark-blue eyes appeared to be caught in a restless search for a reassurance that would never come. His reserve didn’t deter me. Matthew offered a challenge, and every smile I wrangled from him felt like a victory.
“Are you on your way home?” I asked, trying to pull him back into the conversation.
“Yes.”
“Let me guess. New York?”
“No, Chicago.”
“Really? My cousin moved there about a year ago, and I’ve been dying to visit. You hear so many stories.”
“It’s worth seeing, so you’ll know which stories to believe,” he responded with a certain defensive pride. “Besides, a trip to Chicago will be old hat now that you’ve been to Europe. What brought you so far from home?”
“My job. I’ve spent the last three weeks touring literary sites of the British Isles and teaching two young ladies poetry so they can impress their father’s friends at parties.”
He looked appraisingly at my white cotton dress and T-strap shoes. “You look much too young and cheerful to be a governess. Mine were always dowdy old dragons with permanent scowls.”
“Oh, I’ve only been hired as a summer companion. But even real governesses bob their hair now.”
“How shocking! The next thing I know, you’ll be dancing the Charleston.”
I laughed. “The Charleston! I can barely manage the foxtrot.”
“I’ll bet you know your way around a dance floor better than I do. They’re having one of those tea dances in the Garden Lounge—shall we give it a whirl?”
Of course I wanted to say yes. But if he was the sort of man who’d always been handed what he wanted, maybe he’d be intrigued by a girl who didn’t come easy.
“That’s very kind, but I’ve got to get back,” I said, looking down in embarrassment. “The girls will be finishing their badminton lesson in a few minutes.”
“What about dinner?” he asked. “I’d be delighted if your party joined my table.”
Was he daring me to break the rules? Or did he truly not understand the social gulf between us?
“I’m allowed up here on the first-class deck as long as I’m with my charges, but I have to stick to the second-class restaurant for meals,” I said. “Thanks for the offer, but I can’t accept.”
I turned away before I could regret my decision. Maybe I’d gone about this all wrong. There was no reason for him to seek me out, no reason for me to expect anything to come of one conversation. But I’d enjoyed pretending I was someone else. Someone untroubled by doubt and regrets.
Behind me, I heard him exclaim, “Your name! I don’t know your name!”
It took Matthew less than a day to find out.
I was standing with Lillian and Maisie by the shuffleboard court the following afternoon, waiting for an opening, when I saw him again. He was leaning against a lounge chair, his elbows and arms resting along the back. Our eyes met, and he tipped his hat in acknowledgment, his lips curving into the subtlest beginning of a smile. It was all I could do not to grin back at him.
Lillian, following my gaze, threw her hand upward in an enthusiastic wave. At fourteen, her behavior swung unpredictably between that of an expensively educated young woman and that of a temperamental child.
“Mr. Lemont!” she exclaimed.
“Miss Headly,” he called back in greeting as he straightened up and began walking toward us. I glanced at Maisie, who looked as thrilled as I felt.
“That’s Matthew Lemont,” Lillian whispered to me hurriedly. “Of the Lemonts. Father says they’re rolling in money.” Louder, so Matthew could hear, Lillian called out, “What a pleasure to see you again. It was so refreshing to dine with someone younger than Methuselah at breakfast this morning.”
“Lillian,” I admonished, instantly regretting the schoolmarmish tone.
“I was delighted your father invited me,” Matthew chuckled. “And grateful to you girls for the entertaining conversation.”
Lillian and Maisie hadn’t told me Matthew had joined their table that morning, and I felt a dark stab of jealousy that I’d missed it. My morning meal, as usual, had been delivered on a tray to my cabin.
“You haven’t introduced me to your companion,” Matthew said. His gaze met mine and held it.
“Oh,” Lillian replied dismissively, as if I wasn’t worth his notice. “This is Kate.”
“Kate Moore,” I said, holding out my hand.
“Matthew Lemont.”
There was no jolt of electricity as our palms pressed together, but what I felt was something deeper, a bond being formed, as we silently agreed to say nothing of our previous meeting.
Lillian abruptly turned and motioned toward the shuffleboard courts, where a raucous family was about to vacate a space.
“Now’s our chance!” she exclaimed. Maisie scurried off after her sister, leaving Matthew and me alone.
“Matthew Lemont,” I said, sounding out each syllable with dramatic emphasis. “How mortifying. I had no idea, yesterday . . .” I looked away, as if I were too embarrassed to face him.
“Don’t apologize,” he pleaded. “I enjoyed my secret life as Mr. X.”
“I’m quite sure I never told you I work for Mr. Headly. What a coincidence that you should have breakfast with him the very day after our meeting!”
To my delight, Matthew laughed at being caught. “I’ll confess,” he said, “I was so curious about you that I stalked the smoking room last night in search of a father with literary tastes. I met Mr. Headly, and we spoke about his love of British poetry and his two daughters, and before I knew it, he was insisting I join them this morning.”
“I hope you’re not too disappointed,” I said. “Kate Moore is awfully boring compared to Miss Z.”
“On the contrary,” Matthew said. “I find the mystery more compelling than ever.”