Justin tapped on the door, then stuck his head inside. “Catherine?” he queried, moving into the room. “Maggie said you wanted to see me before dinner?” Sitting in front of the dressing table, Catherine waved him over to her. “Yes, I did,” she said, handing him a necklace for him to anchor behind her neck. “I was wondering if you thought your friend would really show up tonight,” she asked when Justin finished his chore. She picked up her power puff, blotting her skin with the white stuff. “He’s hardly my friend, Catherine,” Justin said, crossing his arms as he stood behind her. “Isn’t he?” She raised a brow. “He seems just your type.” Their eyes locked in the mirror, Justin’s shocked and wide; Catherine’s narrowed and knowing. Then Justin realized the truth. “Your father again,” he said simply. Catherine nodded. “He asked me if I still wanted to go through with the wedding, once he’d found out about your, shall we say, inclinations. I told him it didn’t matter.” “It doesn’t?” “Of course not,” she said, slipping her large engagement ring onto her hand and admiring it for a moment. “I never expected you to remain faithful to me, Justin. I know this isn’t exactly a love match we have here.” She turned on the stool to face Justin. “But I won’t be embarrassed onboard this ship, in front of these people. If you need recreation, please come to me.” She rose and moved toward Justin, lifting and kissing him lightly. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.” She bent and picked up the edge of the long gown, signaling the conversation was over. Justin held out his arm and together, they left the cabin for dinner. But what had happened reeled in Justin’s mind. He’d tried to be discreet, could have sworn no one had ever known. Now it appears he was wrong, that Mr. Hill, and therefore, Catherine, both knew of his, what did she call it? Oh, yes. His “inclinations.” And that Catherine accepted it, or rather, would accept it in the future. But not here. Not on this ship. Not with JC. He watched as Catherine spoke with the Astor’s as they moved down the Grand Staircase, his eyes searching for JC, wondering if the other man would indeed show up. He was confused by Catherine’s invitation to JC, but now knew what she’d done. She was showing Justin what he had, what he’d lose if he didn’t play the attentive fiancé. He’d lose his standing in society, his mills, his home, his name. He stopped short, his gaze glued to the man standing by the double doors leading toward the dining room. Then again, he might just be worth it after all. “Well?” Catherine asked, looking around the area by the staircase. “Where is he?” Justin watched JC smile and approach them. “Miss Hill?” he said, bowing low again before Catherine, who could not disguise the shock on her face at seeing JC. He was dressed in a formal suit, the stark black material showing off the crisp white shirt to perfection. His hair was slicked back, longer than fashion dictated but none-the-less, immensely attractive. His eyes sparkled with humor as he took Catherine’s hand and kissed it. “My thanks again at your generous invitation,” he said. “Well, well,” Catherine said. “I must say, Mr. Chassy, you do clean up nicely.” Justin opened his mouth to correct Catherine, but JC interrupted. “It’s surprising what a hot bath with strong soap will do for one’s outlook, isn’t it?” He cut a quick grin to Justin. “Makes me feel almost like a real gentleman.” Catherine’s eyes narrowed, but she was prevented from saying anything by a loud voice behind them. “Catherine! Trust you to have the two finest men in attendance,” Molly Brown said, coming to stand next to them. Justin smiled broadly. “Hello, Molly,” he said with genuine affection. “You look stunning tonight.” “Harrumph,” she said, batting his arm with her fan. “Who’s this?” The older woman peered at JC closely. “Don’t I know you, son?” “I think we’ve met, but I can’t remember where,” JC said, then pulled her arm through his. “Shall we go into dinner?” He exchanged a glance with Justin, smiling all the while. *** The clink of silver on china, the splash of champagne into crystal, and the cultured, elegant talk of the privileged class permeated the dining room. Justin looked around the room, wondering what JC made of all of this. The plethora of food, the excess of wine, the flash of jewels and wealth. He watched JC, observed the other man’s interaction, and realized how well he fit in, as if he belonged here, as if he’d always belonged. He conversed easily with Molly Brown and Madeline Astor, as well as speaking knowledgably about politics and world issues with Col. Gracie and Thomas Andrews. He caught JC’s eyes, laughing silently as JC winked at Justin before turning back to Molly Brown. “I know I’ve met you, son,” Justin heard her say. “But where? Where would it have been?” Justin watched as JC leaned in, whispering something in her ear. She looked at JC with surprise, then burst out in a loud and raucous laugh. “Well, don’t that beat all!” Molly exclaimed, hitting the table and making everyone turn her way. “What is it, Molly?” Jacob Astor asked. Molly Brown just laughed again, shaking her head. “Some things between a man and woman have to stay private, J.J.,” she teased. JC winked at Justin again, and Justin smiled. He turned, finding Catherine watching them both with ill-disguised hostility. Forcing a smile on her face, she turned to JC, speaking in a loud voice across the table. “So, Mr. Chassy, how are the accommodations in steerage?” Silence reigned after Catherine’s remark, all eyes turning to JC. “Why, they’re very good, Miss Hill. Hardly any rats.” “Catherine,” Justin began, only to have JC wave him silent. “It’s alright, Justin,” he said, turning to the others at the table. “Miss Hill was kind enough to invite me to your table tonight, I hope I haven’t imposed myself where I don’t belong.” “Heck, no, son,” Molly Brown said. “You got better manners than most.” Catherine’s smile was tight. “And what do you plan to do once we reach America?” she asked. “Do you have a job? A family? A future?” “Catherine…” Justin hissed. “No, I don’t have a job,” JC replied easily. “Yes, I have a family. As to the future…I’m a firm believer in fate, Miss Hill. I take life as it comes, and make the most of what I get.” “JC is an artist,” Justin explained to the table. “A very good one.” “Is that so?” Mrs. Astor said. JC nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I lived in France for the past three years, mostly in Paris. But I did get down to Italy once and saw the great works there.” “And how did you support yourself in France, Mr. Chassy?” “Odd jobs, selling my art, whatever I could to make a few franc,” he explained. “Seems a rather rootless and aimless life, Mr. Chassy,” Catherine sniffed. “I wouldn’t like to live that way. I’m looking forward to marrying, and making a place for myself in Justin’s world.” She clutched at Justin’s arm, glaring across at JC. “I like knowing what the future will bring. As does Justin.” “That works for some, Miss Hill,” JC said, shifting his gaze from Catherine and staring Justin in the eyes. “But for others…it’s the cowardly way out.” Justin’s breath caught at JC’s words. Moments seemed to stretch into minutes, until the arrival of dessert broke their concentration. The rest of the dinner was subdued, only light conversation between the party, and at the end, Justin was escorting Catherine from the table when they walked over to JC. “I hope you had an enjoyable time, Mr. Chassy,” Catherine said, her arm still clutching Justin’s in a strong grasp. JC rose from the table and walked with them to the exit of the dining room. “I did, indeed,” he replied, then turned to Justin. “Thank you for having me, Justin,” he said, holding out his hand for Justin to shake. A brief shake, and JC disappeared down the stairs. Justin trailed behind Catherine as the entered the elevator for their deck. Looking down, he unfolded the paper in his hand, reading the note that JC had slipped into his palm when he’d taken his leave. “Meet me at midnight at the clock. Please, Justin, take a chance”