"What are you doing here?" Emily gasped between kisses. "Do you know how much trouble you'd be in if you were caught? You're impersonating a White Star Line employee!" She pulled back and glared at his impish smile. "Darling, you're a stowaway. They used to display people like you in town squares." She poked his shoulder angrily to emphasize her point.
Her annoyed concern only served to widen his grin. "That why I'm not American, Em. The Irish just disown their children. Very clean, no public humiliation. And in any case, no one's getting me for impersonating anything. I am a steward. I signed on two days ago, when one of the old stewards quit and went home." Her confusion was so adorable that he couldn't resist stealing another kiss. "Poor unlucky blighter," he mumbled. "Isn't going to see Titanic on her first go-round."
Emily suddenly gasped as the door began to open. Pushing the young man away, she turned to the door to find Anne staring in at them. Damn it, Emily thought. She's suspicious.
Instead of saying anything about the situation, Anne asked about the lifebelts. However, the sarcastic tone of her voice made it very clear that she knew exactly what had just happened between her sister and the young man.
He cleared his throat guiltily and rocked on his feet. "Oh, yes. The, uh, the lifebelts. Yes. Good lifebelts. You're…you're all set. For lifebelts." His eyes darted to the door. "Excuse me. I have to leave. I have other…lifebelts. Um, other rooms. They need me to check. Big ship and all. Excuse me." He rushed out of the room, almost bumping into Anne, and closed the hallway door hard.
As soon as he was gone, Anne closed the bedroom door and turned to her older sister. "Well! What exactly was that, Emily? When did you start kissing strange men?" She paused for a moment and added, "When did you start kissing men?"
Emily ignored the second question. The fact that she was known as something of a shrew among eligible Philadelphia bachelors had no bearing on this. "He's not a strange man. You think I would kiss anybody? I've known him for a long time."
"Well, then, who is he?" Anne placed her hands on her hips and glared. It was obvious that she wanted a straight answer out of her sister, and Emily had no choice but to oblige.
"His name is Braedan Kael. I met him about a year ago at our house. Don't you remember him?" Anne shook her head. "You might've been at school, then. In fact, I'm almost sure you were. Our schools have different spring breaks, don't they? Anyway, he was our cook, briefly. He wasn't very good, but we were desperate at the time. We were rather smitten with each other from the moment we met. It took him a while to find me after he was fired, but he pieced it together from comments by the other servants. He finally came to visit me at school and we…well, we fell in love." She felt rather odd being so honest with Anne, but her sister needed to understand the situation if she was going to keep it a secret.
"How old is he, Em?"
Oh, God. The age question. "He's nineteen," she mumbled, already guessing how her sister would react. She was right.
"Nineteen? NINETEEN? That's far too old for you! You're only fifteen!"
Emily felt herself getting defensive. "Well, you kissed an eighteen-year-old, and you're thirteen. At least I'm having my coming-out in a year. You still have a lifetime to go. Besides, I've known Braedan for much longer than you knew Nicholas Larabie. I feel a bit more justified in my actions." She hated that she had to use that one morsel of sin against Anne. It seemed so low, such a pathetic attempt. To hide her embarrassment, she turned her back and pretended to arrange things on her dressing table.
"But, Emily…he isn't of our social class!"
So…that's what this was about. She didn't care about Emily's safety or well-being. She only cared that Braedan wasn't as rich as them. Emily felt her embarrassment melt away into white-hot anger. Her hand tightened around the hairbrush she was holding, and she spoke quietly and dangerously. She didn't turn around. "Please get out of my room, Anne. I wish to be alone." Anne started to open the door, but Emily spun around. "One more thing." Anne looked terrified as she was fixed with an icy glare.
"One day, Anne, you're going to realize what class really is. And when you do, you'll realize that it's exactly this—nothing. There isn't one thing, apart from the thickness of a wallet, that separates a man of one class and a man of another. Unless you'd like to take into consideration the industriousness and work ethic that's often found in the lower classes. I've met exactly three upper-class men in my life with that same kind of industriousness. We are not better than them; our family is just richer. You remember that." She gave Anne a hard stare. "Now, please finish unpacking."
Emily turned away again. She let out a long, shaky breath when she heard the door close, and tried to focus on anything other than her boiling anger. Then, suddenly, she punched her pillow so hard that a few feathers fluttered out. Imagining that it was Anne's face she had just flattened, it made her feel much calmer. She smoothed her hair, took another deep breath, and walked serenely into the sitting room to help Anne unpack.