As dessert was being finished in the second-class dining room, Samuel made a sharp exit, his cheeks aching from his continual and enforced smiling. The brief, duty-bound conversations he’d shared with twenty or thirty passengers throughout lunch had been nice enough, but claustrophobia throughout his ‘entertainment’ shifts was beginning to grow.
He entered the corridor, intent on taking some air.
The guests’ chatter had often turned to the weather and how the temperatures were dropping at an unexpected rate. This evening, people proclaimed to smell ice or snow in the air. Coincidentally, the captain had voiced the possibility of icebergs, or even the emergence of an ice-field, as they sailed farther across the great ocean. Yet, no undue alarm had been raised and Samuel had reassured a few overly cautious passengers as best he could.
Whether freezing cold or not, he welcomed the chill if it meant ridding himself of the stuffiness in the dining room. For all the guests’ amiable conversation, their haughty gazes and upturned chins were indication enough of their assumed superiority over him and the other staff.
He strolled along C-deck to the promenade and spotted Amelia Wakefield talking with Mr Weir as they walked in Samuel’s direction. He hadn’t seen her since he’d knocked on her cabin door, the night before.
She looked animated as she spoke with Weir, his mouth curved into a smile that took Samuel by surprise. Maybe the man wasn’t quite as grave as he’d first appeared.
Instead of addressing them, Samuel feigned interest in the view through one of the promenade’s large glass windows. Did he speak with Amelia as he wanted? Or leave her alone to talk with Weir? Clearly, she was enjoying their conversation.
He regretfully chose the latter, albeit entirely convinced by forgoing the chance to speak to her, he was doing the decent thing for both of them. He liked her more than he should, but the apprehension in her eyes after her threatening encounter last night made it clear she was understandably averse to male attention.
And he would respect her wishes completely.
Whenever he thought of her being molested, his blood boiled. The last thing he wanted was to give Amelia further reason to distance herself from him.
‘Officer Murphy? How are you?’
Her sweet voice carried across the promenade and straight into Samuel’s chest. God damn it, he was caught like a fish on a hook. Plastering on a smile, he faced her and Weir, a pang of jealousy assaulting him to see Amelia’s hand curved so easily around the older man’s arm.
Samuel dipped his head. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Wakefield. Mr Weir.’
Her dark eyes grazed over his face, a teasing smile playing at her lips. She looked exceedingly happy and a yearning to know why wound tight in his gut.
‘I didn’t see you at lunch,’ Samuel said, as he shook hands with Mr Weir. ‘Did you enjoy your meal?’
‘That’s because we didn’t eat in the second-class dining room.’ Amelia smiled sheepishly. ‘I managed to get an invitation to take lunch in first class.’
Samuel grinned, taking an infinite amount of pleasure in her satisfaction. ‘I see.’
‘Didn’t I tell you I wanted to see how everyone on the ship behaves?’ Her brown eyes shone with happiness. ‘Learn of their dreams and wishes once they reach America?’
‘You did.’ He winked at her and two spots of colour leapt into her cheeks before she glanced down at her feet.
Weir’s smile vanished as he assessed Samuel through narrowed eyes.
Samuel held his gaze, heedless of the disgruntled way Weir now studied him. Why shouldn’t he engage in conversation – a little flirtation – with a beautiful woman? This was an adventure, a surreal moment in time. Not just for him, but for so many on this ship. He guessed the same could be said for the two people standing in front of him… despite Weir’s loftiness.
Samuel raised his eyebrows. ‘And you, sir. Did you enjoy your lunch?’
‘I did, Officer Murphy. The first-class food is excellent, of course, but I have to admit no more impressive than what we’ve been served in second class. White Star has most certainly assured a luxurious journey for all.’
Was the man serious? Did he think only the comfortably or exceedingly well off were on this ship?
‘Well, for some passengers, anyway.’ Samuel glanced away, irked that Weir wouldn’t consider the journey of third-class passengers, or worse, the poor sods packed into steerage. ‘I wouldn’t say everyone aboard is having the grandest of times.’
‘You mean the third-class passengers?’ Amelia studied him, her gaze sombre with interest. ‘Are the conditions really that much worse?’
‘It’s hard to say if they are better or worse than the people travelling down there are used to, but the cabins and facilities are definitely more crowded and confined than second and third class.’
She frowned and faced Weir. ‘Maybe I should venture to the lower decks, too.’
‘I hardly think the lower decks are a suitable place for you to be venturing, Miss Wakefield.’
‘But didn’t I say I want to see everything? Miss Pennington did not send us on this trip to only view the wealthy. Pennington’s welcomes everyone. She will expect me to know as much about the dreams of those passengers who couldn’t afford the higher-class tickets as she will of the wealthy. If you have no wish to accompany me, then maybe…’ She looked to Samuel, her dark eyes pleading with him. ‘Officer Murphy wouldn’t mind?’
Weir flinched. ‘Miss Wakefield, Miss Pennington asked that I ensure your safety. You have wandered off before for such a time that I had to enlist Officer Murphy’s help in finding you. No, I think it best we keep to the second- and first-class areas.’
Amelia’s gaze turned steely as she glared at Weir’s turned cheek and Samuel looked away, his admiration for her mounting. She really was quite a woman, and his wish to know her, spend time with her, deepened.
‘Mr Weir, I am determined to see the whole of this ship, with or without you,’ she said firmly. ‘Now, you either grant me consent to do just that, or I will have no choice but to ask Officer Murphy for his help in sending a wire to Miss Pennington asking for her permission to carry out my investigations in any way I see fit.’
‘Miss Wakefield, I will not stand here and allow you to speak to me—’
‘The only other alternative is that you trust Officer Murphy to ensure I come to no undue harm.’
A vein rose in Weir’s temple as he looked at them both, before facing Amelia. ‘Miss Wakefield—’
‘Do we bother Miss Pennington with this or not? That is the only thing up for dispute.’ She snapped her gaze to Samuel. ‘Will you ensure my safety this afternoon, Officer Murphy? Be so kind as to escort me back to my cabin once I have seen everything I wish to see?’
Samuel fought to contain a sombre expression. ‘Of course.’
She turned to Weir, one eyebrow raised.
Weir looked as though he might burst a blood vessel but, slowly, he stepped back. ‘As you wish. Officer Murphy, I expect you to knock on my cabin and let me know when Miss Wakefield is safely returned. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good.’ Weir turned to Amelia. ‘On your head be it if your quest to see everything gives you sleepless nights. I will bid you good afternoon.’
‘So, my afternoon is yours, Officer Murphy.’ She grinned, her brown eyes glinting with mischief. ‘What delights will you show me first?’