ELUDING DESTINY
Chapter Nine
He strode across the room, his
malevolent dark eyes shadowed by the previous night's lack of rest. Ruth had
been watching him since he entered, and she watched him now, her eyes calmly
following his progress toward the table where she sat.
He broke into their conversation
without a moment's hesitation. "May I have a word you with, Ruth?" he
asked rather abruptly, running a hand through his hair.
She lifted the napkin off her lap
and set it beside her plate. "Certainly," she said calmly. Ruth did
not really want to talk to him, but as the minutes wore on, she was finding it
harder and harder to sit here in the café and pretend like everything was the
same as it had been the day before. It was time to take some action, even if it
meant entering into a conversation with Hockley and enduring more of his
whining.
"Excuse me," Ruth said,
and the others nodded politely as she stood and stepped away from the table.
"Good day, ladies," Cal said absently, nodding to them once and then
leading Ruth out of the café.
When they reached the Grand
Staircase, Cal stopped against one wall, out of the other passengers’ way, and
Ruth reluctantly followed.
"Well?" she asked
briskly. "What's this about?"
"You know very well what
it’s about, Ruth," he said sharply, his dark eyes boring into hers.
"Your daughter. She has disappeared again."
"Yes, I realize that, Mr.
Hockley!" Ruth snapped. "And do not use that tone of voice with me.
You are being very rude."
He closed his eyes briefly, and
she wondered if he were counting to ten in his head. Well, she did not care if
he was angry. So was she, and she had far more of a right to be. Her entire
world had fallen to ruins around her, and the only thing bothering him was
petty jealousy of a steerage boy.
"Ruth," he said, speaking
slowly and deliberately. "I would like to speak to Rose sometime today.
There are things we need to discuss. And she has disappeared again, running
back into the arms of her...her plaything." His face twisted in a sneer.
Looking at him, something inside
her just snapped. She was tired, tired of enduring his holier-than-thou
attitude, tired of listening to his snobbish voice and his pompous speeches,
tired of him treating her like a helpless female who needed to be told what to
do. He was everything she secretly detested about the high society in which she
lived; he reminded her of her own father, and that made her detest him even
more. "To you, Mr. Hockley," she snapped, "he may seem a
plaything, but my daughter seems to honestly care for him, so I do wish that
you would stop referring to him so disrespectfully!"
There was an astonished pause.
They were both shocked at her words, at the fact that she'd actually defended
the steerage boy--actually reprimanded her daughter's fiancé for speaking ill
of him.
They stared at each other for a
long moment.
Finally, Cal said, in a strained
voice, "We seem to be at an impasse here, Mrs. Bukater. You are obviously
having some trouble deciding what is best for your daughter. Perhaps if I found
her and brought her back, we could all sit down and discuss this like civilized
adults."
"Fine," Ruth said
flatly. "If you find Rose, I want her brought back here immediately. If
Mr. Dawson is with her, I wish to speak with him, also. And if I hear that you
in any way threatened or...detained....their return to my suite, you can be
sure that there will be trouble, Mr. Hockley." She smiled coolly at him.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be getting back to my luncheon."
*****
Cal glanced at Lovejoy out of the
corner of his eye, wondering what his sense of purpose was; wondering why he
seemed to be enjoying this errand that had nothing to do with him.
The two men were striding down
the corridor, heading for the gates which separated the third class from the
rest of the ship. Lovejoy looked determined. A scowl darkened his lined face,
and his fists were clenched at his sides.
He was so cruel, so
calculating...sometimes Cal envied him, because personal feelings never got in
the way. Lovejoy had no feelings that Cal was aware of, something he had come
to appreciate about his valet. His total lack of emotion, his unswerving
loyalty, his need to get things done.
Cal chuckled under his breath as
they walked along. He knew that Lovejoy was easily as powerful as he was,
perhaps even more. He was lacking the money, of course, and the social
standing, but otherwise he was totally in control. Cal respected that, and did
not look down on him for his faults. Lovejoy, in return, was like a pitbull
waiting for his master's next command. Whatever Cal told him to do, he did with
a vengeance, because whatever Cal told him was always the right thing.
There was not a friendship
between them, but a mutual respect, and Cal was glad for Lovejoy's presence as
they approached the gates.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?"
the pudgy, boyish steward asked, a frown forming between his eyes as he warily
watched them approach.
"Yes," Cal said,
smoothly but forcefully. "Open these gates immediately. It's extremely
important that I go down there."
The steward regarded them dispassionately.
"Sir, those people value their privacy as much as you do. Now, would you
mind telling me why you need to go in there?"
Cal gritted his teeth. The silly
twit. Nothing but a sniveling, working class hound, only a few rungs up the
ladder from Dawson. Perhaps if he offered him money...
But then Lovejoy stepped forward,
and spoke to the steward in a low, threatening tone. Cal couldn't hear what was
being said, but it must have been impressive, for the steward's eyes widened
and he nodded quickly. Suddenly, he couldn't get the gates open fast enough.
Cal hid a smile as they were
ushered through the gates.
Yes, Spicer Lovejoy was certainly
turning out to be quite an asset.