Fateful Read Online Free Page A

him as powerfully as it calls to me—and yet he doesn’t turn. He and his fellow traveler are distracted. They lean in closely to each other, as though they do not wish their conversation to be overheard. His body is twisted slightly away from that of the man with the Vandyke beard, as though he wished to walk in another direction. But they talk so intently. Are they arguing or conspiring? I can’t tell. And usually I am good at reading people—
    The tense moment between them snaps as his companion, the one with the beard, looks up at me—as though he were the one tied to me, not his friend. His icy blue eyes sweep over me, only for a split second, but it is enough to send a chill through the marrow of my bones.
    He looks as if he knows me. As if he hates me. And there is something eerily familiar in his gaze. Is that the man from last night after all?
    Quickly I turn away. Surely his animosity is no more than a rich man’s irritation. He has caught me eavesdropping on their conversation—intruding on my betters. If he complains to a purser or, worse, to Lady Regina, my life won’t be worth leading over the next five days.
    And yet I feel the stare on my back again. It is as real as the clothes on my back. It is cold, and it is evil, and it follows me even as I walk toward the nearest steward to make my escape.
    The Lisles’ suite is located on A deck, which I can tell from the steward’s expression is especially grand. The first-class passengers are all escorted to their cabins, but the steward expects me to find my own way. He doesn’t offer to take the box from me, or find anyone else to take it—why should he?—and so I set it at my feet as we conduct our business. I am given the key to their rooms and the safe’s combination without question; I cannot be a useful servant without having access to anything my employers could possibly desire.
    Then he takes out another key. “This lets you go from third class to first class.” His face is sour. “We’re not meant to be handing these things out to everyone. United States regulations say we have to keep those doors shut, and if we find you haven’t, we’ll confiscate that key posthaste, and the viscount’s lady will just have to do without her servants for a while.”
    This steward has clearly never met Lady Regina; she’d wither him on the spot with a mere glare. But I’m meant to be cowed and serious, so I nod as I drop the key into my pocket and stoop to pick up the box. “Yes, sir. I’ll be careful, sir.”
    He nods and waves me off, already eager to turn his attention to people far more worth his time. The rest of the way, I’m on my own.
    I cast one glance behind me to make sure the bearded man with the cold blue eyes isn’t watching any longer. He’s nowhere to be seen. And yet I still feel the hunter’s gaze. With a shiver, I hurry toward the lift, eager to get farther from him.
    Even the hallways of the Titanic are luxurious. The carpet, now red with a floral pattern, is soft beneath my aching feet, and the white paint is gleaming and new. After the clamor of the dock, the silence is startling. Although others down the corridor are entering their first-class accommodations, nobody is especially close. It feels briefly as though I have the ship to myself.
    What would I do, if I were on this vessel all alone for five days? All alone except for the crew, of course; I’d scarcely get very far without them. I could slide down those majestic banisters on the grand staircase. I could sit by myself in the sumptuous dining hall and snap my fingers, demanding course after course of the sort of rich food I usually only get if Cook has burnt it too badly for the Lisles to eat. And what would I wear? With only the crew to look at me—no one to boss me, no one to judge—there would be no more need for this shabby uniform. I imagine taking off my white bonnet and letting it float down from the deck railings into the ocean below. The sharks can eat it,