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not.’

‘Why are you travelling so late in your term?’ Lizzie asked, as she came around to the other woman’s side and took her arm, while Karl guided Gertie toward the open Dining Saloon doors.

‘My husband was offered a position which he needed to take up immediately. I would have preferred to stay at home with my family until after the birth, but Oliver insisted that we not be separated. He is a dear that way.’

“Dear” was not how Karl would describe the man, but it was not his place to comment. Instead, he held out the chair for Gertie and then did the same for Lizzie. Finally, he seated himself across from Lizzie, so he could watch her without drawing attention to his actions.

He took in their long table covered with white damask cloth and an array of silverware. It was not as heavily laid out as he expected the first class tables would be, but that suited him perfectly. Although he loved his food and had always had a big appetite, the Edwardian upper-class delight in gorging themselves with course after course of delicacies was an anathema to his sense of fairness. While children starved in the streets, the rich stuffed themselves to bursting. The imbalance was obscene.

He took up the menu, which had a picture of the Titanic, the meal and date printed on the top. There was more than enough on offer to meet his needs he saw. He would start with the chicken and vegetable consommé, following it with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Then he would try to find room for the fruit tart and coffee. While he waited for others to be seated at their long table and the waiter to come to take their orders, he buttered his bread roll and nibbled at it.

It had been a long morning and he was hungry. He, Carter and Hugo had left London that morning on the special White Star Line train. He had travelled first class with them and enjoyed a late breakfast on board. However, that was four hours ago now, and so much had happened since then that he felt decidedly empty. He poured himself a glass of iced water from the jug in the centre of the table, after offering the jug to Lizzie and Gertie.

‘Hungry?’ Lizzie commented, as she watched him tear into his roll. He felt himself blush.

‘Rather. It has been a long morning. I had something on the train down from London, but that was hours ago.’

‘You are still growing, from the look of you,’ Gertie commented with more animation than she had displayed so far. ‘My mamma used to say that boys had to grow into their feet. And from the look of yours, Mr…’

‘I do beg your pardon. I am Karl Langman. Please call me Karl.’

‘I had better not. My husband is a stickler for observing the rules of etiquette. But thank you, Mr Langman. As I was saying, from the size of your feet, Mr Langman, you still have some growing to do.’

‘Gertie, control yourself,’ muttered her husband as he seated himself next to her at the table.

‘It is perfectly all right. It is a fair observation. I do have big feet, but I can assure you I will be growing no taller. This is my limit, just over six feet.’

‘Gertie does not think before she speaks, do you Gertie? It is a habit we are endeavouring to correct.’ Oliver Howard continued on in the same vein, indifferent to the embarrassment of his wife or those he shared the table with. There were more people now joining them, and for a while, the introductions flowed fast and furious as the waiter took their orders. Then, while everyone settled in, Karl took the opportunity to ask Lizzie about her roommate.

‘She was not willing to take the upper bunk and when our stewardess offered to set up the divan for me, she complained there would be nowhere for her to sit. It does not bode well.’

‘Ah well, you have only a few nights to share your sleep with her.’

‘More than a week you mean. I may have to ask for another berth if things do not improve.’

Karl realised his mistake as soon as he’d said it. He was working on four nights on board; everyone else was expecting at least seven. He would have to watch himself. It was little mistakes like that which could catch them out.

‘Sounds a poor sort,’ observed Oliver, eavesdropping on their conversation. ‘We haven’t been introduced, my dear lady. Are you the doctor’s wife? No wonder he was so concerned about my Gertie’s condition with you being in the family way, as well.’

Lizzie blushed and took up her bread roll to butter. ‘No, sir, Mr Langman and I have only recently met. I am Mrs Anthony Jones, a widow travelling to family in New York.’

‘Well, Mrs Jones, my Gertie and I will take you under our wing won’t we my dear? Not proper to spend an inordinate amount of time with a bachelor. People might talk.’

Lizzie looked up from her bread roll and glared at his smarmy face. ‘Thank you for the offer. I will enjoy spending time with your wife on this journey, as I will enjoy my developing friendship with Mr Langman. I am a widow. It is totally acceptable for me to associate with whomever I choose.’

Karl was so proud of her he could have cheered. It was as polite a put-down as he could have hoped for, and the man sniffed his offence and turned away. The secret smile she sent Karl’s way further buoyed his spirits. She may have been through her share of hardship, but his Lizzie was not cowed by it by any means. His respect for her grew apace with his affection.

The soup arrived quickly and they dropped into a comfortable silence, as they enjoyed the well-prepared consommé. If it was any indication of the standard of the food they could expect, then they were in for a treat.

By the time they reached the fruit tart and coffee, Karl was comfortably full. He nibbled at his tart and watched Lizzie eat hers with obvious delight. He realised that she had probably gone a lot longer since her last meal than he and pregnancy increased the appetite.

After the meal was over, Karl offered Lizzie a walk around the promenade. Before she could accept, Oliver Howard interrupted.

‘It was only a little under an hour ago you were telling me my wife should not be taking exercise, and now you are offering it to Mrs Jones? What kind of physician are you?’

Keeping his calm, Karl came around to help Lizzie to her feet. ‘I am the kind who will allow my companion to set the pace and be willing to stop as soon as she tires. Something you might consider doing, Howard.’

He ushered Lizzie from the room without a backward glance.

‘He is a prig. I feel so sorry for that poor woman being married to him,’ Lizzie said as they took the lift up to the Boat Deck.

‘With any luck she might be free of him shortly,’ Karl said before he realised his mistake.

‘Shortly? What have you in mind?’ Lizzie asked curiously, as he opened the companionway door to the outer deck. The fresh sea air and sunshine greeted them like an old friend.

‘Nothing, I mean nothing. Ignore me. I forget we have known each other for such a short time.’

‘So you would explain if you knew me better. How very curious, Mr Langman.’ Her tone and the use of his surname told him she was playing. He decided to play along.

‘If I knew you better, Mrs Jones, there would be many things I would tell you that are more than curious.’

‘So why not forget that we have only just met and go with your feeling of familiarity. I am like a cat where my curiosity is concerned.’

‘But curiosity killed the cat.’

Lizzie laughed and turned to walk away, her hair blowing loose as a gust of wind caught the knot on the top of her head and tugged it free. She gasped and reached for the unsecured tendril.

Karl doubted he had ever seen anything as beautiful as those golden brown locks billowed about her flushed and smiling face, as her surprised laughter tinkled like the sweetest melody.

Before he thought better of it, he pulled her gently into a less breezy spot against the side of the ship and dropped a kiss on her cheek. Her look of surprise was equal only to his own.

What she did then was even more surprising. While still drawn close against him, his body shielding her from the wind, Lizzie stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek in return. Before he knew what he was doing, he was kissing her back, covering her warm, wet mouth with his own. Unsure what he was doing but letting his instincts lead the way, he immersed himself in her. The taste, texture and scent of her overwhelmed him, arousing him instantly.

He was not a virgin. Just. There had been that time at a lab Christmas party back before the LGP when a drunken co-worker had dragged him into a storeroom and seduced him. He had very little memory of the act, not then, nor 200 odd years later, but he was sure that this kiss with Lizzie was nothing like that frenzied, forgettable joining.

When she whimpered and opened her lips, inviting more, he felt his arousal escalate. He opened his own lips and tasted her velvet soft inner mouth with his tongue, finding himself driven crazy by the warmth and heady scent of her. Then, as the excitement became nearly more than he could bear and he wondered desperately what he could do next to take the feeling further and higher, she drew back from him abruptly, almost fearfully, and dropped her head.

‘I… I am sorry,’ he found himself stammering, taking a step away from her, so she had room to leave if she wanted to.

‘Do… don’t be. I just became frightened. It was not you…’

‘I did not mean to frighten you.’

‘I know. It is not you. I… I had a bad experience with a man and for a moment, I was back there. I am sorry. You are nothing like him. Your kiss was nothing like his.’

He reached out, drew her in close and began to walk with her along the deck. He wanted to protect her from her past and from everything that frightened her. Where this need came from he had no idea, but if he could have had armour and a charger, he would have slain her dragon in an instant.

Foolish idiot, he thought, but his hold on her didn’t lessen.

‘I am not like him. You need never be frightened of me,’ Karl told her as they walked, her small body stowed so neatly under his arm.

‘I know that, Karl. I do know that. I wish I could tell you about it, but you would think poorly of me, and I could not stand that right now.’

‘I could never think poorly of you. However, when you feel you can trust me, I am here to listen.’

He felt her nod her head against his shoulder. He squeezed her reassuringly.

The afternoon sun shone down on them as they walked on.

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

Pia

 

The afternoon was spent familiarising themselves with their surroundings and their fellow passengers. It was hard not to feel the excitement in the air. After a surprisingly good and filling lunch, those in steerage were more optimistic about the coming journey. They had all heard horror stories of the North Atlantic crossing from other migrants, but the hardships suffered by those others seemed to be irrelevant to them here on the mighty Titanic.

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