Chapter 9: Blame
Rose had left with his coat, he realized. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered now. Andrews didn't care.
He fell back onto his stateroom bed as Rose's astonished expression continued to play over and over in his reeling mind. Why had he acted in such haste? How could he have thought a kiss would improve her situation? How could he have been so foolish?
He pressed his fingertips into his strained eyes. Could the evening get any worse?
There was a knock at his door. He groaned and considered not answering it. Who would possibly need to see him at this hour? He knew whoever it was couldn't be Rose—how could she forgive him after such a debacle? He stood with an irritated sigh and opened the door.
"Good evening, Mr. Andrews. I thought I would find you here. You. Hiding away like a craven child in his room."
The shipbuilder glared at the man who stood before him. "What do you want Mr. Hockley?"
"I believe I would ask that same question of you," Cal said evenly.
Andrews's eyes traveled to a familiar overcoat draped over Cal's arm.
Cal flashed his familiar smirk. "Now what was it that I told you before? Oh, yes: that my fiancée is no longer your concern."
"As of one hour ago she was," Andrews retorted defiantly.
"Then pray explain to me why I found a certain fiancée of mine wearing a certain shipbuilder's overcoat?"
Andrews said nothing as a mixture of rage and fear boiled inside of him.
"Go on Andrews, you seem to be a man who always has an answer to everything."
"Didn't you try asking her yourself?" Andrews replied as he leaned towards Cal. "Or did you strike her first?"
Cal's face contorted with fury. He threw the coat at Andrews, knocking him off balance. Cal lunged and slammed Andrews against his desk. The shipbuilder let out a grunt of pain and sank to the floor as Cal pinned him down, both hands wrapped around his neck. Andrews tried to wrestle free, but found it useless to struggle against Cal's tight grip.
"You're about to learn a valuable lesson, Shipbuilder," Cal hissed as he drew a clenched fist back and drove it straight into Andrews' face.
Andrews groaned as a sour taste rose from his stomach and filled his mouth. Blood trickled down his lip. Cal seized Andrews by his coat and lifted him so they were face to face.
"Rose is mine," he said through gritted teeth. There was a hoarse tinge of fearful, almost child-like distress in his voice. "Do you understand?"
Andrews stared into Cal's rage-filled eyes. He pursed his lips and sent a mixture of blood and bile hurtling into the millionaire's face.
Cal reeled back, his expression filled with surprise and disgust. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his coat as Andrews managed to haul himself to his feet. He locked eyes with a red-faced Cal.
Cal's demeanor stiffened. He swung his clenched fist at Andrews who blocked the oncoming strike. Exhausted and overwhelmed, Andrews stumbled and gathered what little strength he had left to grab Cal by his jacket lapels and thrust him against the armoire.
"You were never worthy of a woman as good as Rose."
"And you think you can save her, Andrews?" Cal replied. "Let me tell you something: that whore is beyond saving."
Without a rational thought, Andrews sent a clenched fist hurtling across Cal's jaw. The pain radiated in his hand as Cal toppled to the ground unconscious. Andrews felt dizzy and in turn, slumped to the floor.
The door handle of his stateroom rattled open, and in burst Andrews' steward Henry, who stood in front of the fallen men in shock.
"Are you alright, sir?" his steward asked, pulling Andrews to his feet. A rush of blood poured from his nose as he stood. Andrews staggered and tried to regain his balance by steadying himself against Henry's shoulder.
"Thank you, Henry," Andrews said as Henry fetched a basin of water and a cloth for the shipbuilder's wound. He pressed the wet cloth against his blood-covered lip.
"Well, this certainly will be a night to remember," Andrews said as he smiled sardonically and sat in his desk chair.
"What happened, sir?" the steward asked.
"I'll tell you momentarily," Andrews said. He looked to Cal, who was still lying unconscious on the floor. "But first, I must ask another favor of you, Henry."
"Anything."
Andrews pulled out a coil of twine from his desk drawer. "This man is a threat to the people on this ship and must be locked up. Would you tie his hands together and fetch the Master at Arms?"
