“All right,” I said. “Tell me what I missed.”
“My father died, too, when I was thirteen.” There was an ache to his voice, as if the pain of the loss was still fresh. “He was a remarkable man. Smart as a whip, bursting with confidence—the kind of person who fills up a room. Then, suddenly, he was gone, and I grew up knowing I could never fill his shoes. My mother was the one who kept Lemont Industries going while I decided to rebel and study medicine. Thought I’d be noble and save lives. When the war came along, I was so anxious to prove myself that I signed up with the Medical Service Corps. I was eighteen years old and an innocent fool. A few months in France were enough to turn me against doctoring forever. Turns out I’m not so noble after all.”
“You must be proud of serving your country,” I began.
But Matthew brushed me off. “I am rich,” he said, “and I’m probably spoiled. But I’m not lazy. I’ve spent the last few years learning everything I could about the business and planning for the future. I spend every minute of every day weighed down by my family’s expectations, wondering if I would have made my father proud.”
“It can’t be that terrible,” I said. “You must be invited to all sorts of parties and weekends at glamorous country houses.”
“A man in my position has responsibilities, as my mother likes to say. Just because I go to charity balls doesn’t mean I enjoy them. I usually spend the night fending off pushy mothers who keep telling me I simply must meet their daughters.”
“Why fend them off?” I asked. “Why not meet their lovely daughters?” I looked straight at him, daring him to answer me honestly. I was wondering why such a good catch hadn’t been snatched up years ago.
“Because I won’t marry a woman who wants to marry Matthew Lemont.” He said the name with contempt. “I’m waiting for a woman who will marry me despite my name, not because of it.”
The declaration hovered between us, fraught with weight. He’d practically handed me the key to his heart. All I had to do was use it.
“You’re the one who brought up marriage, not me,” I said lightly. “Now, tell me more about this sister of yours. What’s the wildest thing she’s done?”
But Matthew seemed reluctant to talk about his family, as if he regretted telling me as much as he had. We sat in silence as Charles cleared the soup bowls and brought in plates of poached salmon and grilled vegetables. Everything had been perfectly cooked, but I couldn’t enjoy it. Not until I found a way to lighten Matthew’s mood. Finally, I asked him if he liked going to the pictures.
“Sure. I hardly ever do, though.”
I asked if he’d seen Wings, and when he admitted he hadn’t, I told him he simply had to and began describing the aerial dogfights until he got lost in the story and his tense posture loosened. By the time I moved on to Buster Keaton’s exploits in The General, Matthew was smiling. I thought about refusing the after-dinner port Charles offered along with our dessert of orange sorbet, but before I could say anything, my glass was full, and Matthew was holding his up for a toast.
“To a delightful dinner, with a delightful companion.”
“Same to you,” I said. Our glasses clinked, and I tried not to grimace as the bitterness trickled down my throat. Hours of being charming had tired me out, and my cheeks were uncomfortably flushed.
“What do you say to some cards?” Matthew asked.
“Sure,” I said, standing up, but the floor seemed to shift under my feet. I lurched forward, grabbing at Matthew’s arm to steady myself.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “Forgot I was on a moving train.”
I tried to concentrate as Matthew laid out double solitaire in the parlor, but cards kept slipping from my fingers when I played them, and I couldn’t keep track of my moves. My hands felt like they’d been numbed, forcing me to make slow, deliberate movements, and an unsettling dizziness was making me nauseous. So this is what it’s like to be drunk, I thought distractedly.
When I stifled a yawn, Matthew looked at me sympathetically and said, “You look done in. I’ll see you to your room.”
I kept one hand pressed against the wall as I tottered along, my body swaying with each tilt of the train. When we came to my compartment, I saw the bed had been made up, and the sheets were turned down in a neat triangle. I stepped inside and turned around. Matthew was standing in the doorway. I moved back until my legs pressed against the edge of the berth. Suddenly, the gravity of the moment cut through my foggy, unfocused thoughts. I was alone in a bedroom with a man I barely knew, unchaperoned. The staff quarters were at the other end of the car. No one could see or hear us.
I looked at Matthew and realized whatever happened from this point on would be my choice. If I took a step toward him and leaned against his chest, he would kiss me. If I threw my arms around his shoulders and pulled him toward the bed, he would follow.
For a fleeting, thrilling moment, I thought I’d do it. Then a clear, commanding voice told me to stop. Matthew was my lucky break, my best shot at a better life. He might even be a man I could one day fall in love with. All of that would be at risk if I moved too fast.
“Thanks,” I said, tipping my head in dismissal.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asked.
“One too many drinks, that’s all,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Good night, then,” Matthew said. “Sleep as late as you like. We won’t be getting to Chicago until the afternoon.”
And with that, he was gone. Though I was relieved to have the uncomfortable moment over with, I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of regret. I’d wanted him to kiss me, very much.
After being closed up all day, the compartment was stifling. I pulled the window open, but the air was too humid to offer any relief. After waiting in vain for a cross breeze from the windows in the hall, I closed the compartment door and stripped down to my slip. No point changing into a nightgown and getting it sticky, too. Splashing cold water on my face and chest helped, but I felt sick every time I leaned over the sink. I decided to skip my usual nighttime reading and go right to bed. I didn’t want to face Matthew the next day looking like a wreck.