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“If it makes you feel any better, I have been to Macy’s.” Nathan turned Iris’s way. “I went last year at Christmastime. You should see their windows. Fully decked out with Christmas decorations of every kind. I’d never seen anything like it.”

“Oh, the Macy’s Christmas windows?” Iris gave him an admiring look. “You’ve seen them in person? I’ve only ever dreamed of such a thing.”

“I have.” He lit into a lighthearted conversation about the Christmas-themed windows, and before long, Iris was all smiles.

“Someday I’m going to own a fine home and shop for the things I need at Macy’s. What a day that will be. I will host parties and show off my dress designs to the women who attend.”

“I have no doubt they will see your talent and want to wear your dresses,” Tessa said, meaning every word.

Iris gave her a look of appreciation. For the first time Tessa felt hope that her suitemate might very well get beyond being angry with her. Now, if she could just arrange a meeting with Edith Russell. Then she would win over Iris for life.

Nathan couldn’t help but notice the awkward interactions between Jacquie and Iris. Something in the relationship did not ring true, but he could not put his finger on it. Determined not to overthink the problem, he offered Jacquie his arm. They led the way across the Boat Deck with Iris following closely behind. After a couple of minutes, Nathan paused and offered Iris his other arm. She took it but didn’t seem terribly comfortable. Just as they reached the stairwell, a familiar man in a fashionable suit of clothes passed by. Nathan paused to greet him. “Good morning, Mr. Ismay.”

The man nodded but did not stop.

“Do you know him?” Tessa gave the man a second glance.

Nathan nodded. “Bruce Ismay is the managing director of the White Star Line and one of the men responsible for this ship. I read a write-up in the paper about him. I’m not sure our American reporters have done him justice, to be quite frank. They seem to take aim at him at every available turn.”

“Perhaps they’re just jealous,” Iris said. “Americans often think the Brits are snobbish when, in fact, they are simply more reserved.”

Jacquie nodded as she glanced back at Ismay, who disappeared down the stairs. “I daresay he comes across as a man of great
strength and character.” The nod that followed on her end conveyed her assurance that the words she’d spoken were, in fact, true.

“All of this you can discern without knowing him at all?” Nathan chuckled. “He passed by in such a hurry. How could you tell?”

“I am a very good judge of character, and I feel he is a solid British gentleman, comfortable with his station and capable of leading others.”

“Well, please pass your comments along to William Randolph Hearst,” Nathan added, before enjoying a belly laugh.

“William Randolph Hearst?” Jacquie echoed the name and shrugged. “Who is that?”

Iris slapped herself on the forehead once more and looped her arm through Jacquie’s. “Perhaps it would be best if you rested your throat, my friend.”

Nathan bit back a laugh and turned his attention to an older man in a tweed coat approaching on the right. He nudged Jacquie and gestured to the fellow with a nod of his head. “Since you’re such an excellent judge of character, tell me about this man.”

“Hmm.” Jacquie’s nose wrinkled as the fellow settled his bowler atop his head, shifted his pipe to the other side of his mouth, and kept walking with his eyes straight ahead. She turned to face Nathan and gave a brusque nod. “He is a private investigator with Scotland Yard.”

Nathan gave the man a closer look, trying to see the fellow through Jacquie’s eyes. “He is?”

“No doubt. See how he draws his pipe to his lips? He’s not really interested in smoking it. He’s keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings.”

Iris turned to look at the man. “Gracious. I would have guessed him to be a newspaperman, not a private investigator.”

Nathan gave the fellow a closer look, noticing the way he paused to greet a cluster of beautiful young women nearby. “I daresay he’s watching those ladies for a completely different reason.”

“Perhaps.” Jacquie wiggled her brows. “Or maybe that’s just what he wants you to think. He’s quite skilled at the art of distraction, you see.”

“Well, I’m plenty distracted.” Nathan quirked a brow. “Were I writing a mystery,
Titanic
would be the perfect place to set it. I would be the sleuth, out to solve the riddle.”

“What riddle?” Jacquie asked.

“Oh, you know. The whodunit. The crime.”

“Has there been a crime?” Iris stopped walking and crossed her arms over her chest. Nathan couldn’t help but notice her sour look as she shifted her gaze to Jacquie. Very odd. Perhaps this would be a good time to change the direction of the conversation.

“Ah. Well, what of the young women?” Nathan gestured to the group of young beauties with their full skirts, the fashionable hairstyles, and curls fixed atop their heads. “What is their story?”

“They are fashion plates,” Jacquie said. “Just stamped images. Not real at all. Caricatures, as it were, like so many of the women aboard this ship.”

“Indeed?” This certainly caught his attention.

“Quite.” Jacquie nodded and lowered her voice. “But the good detective knows this and is on to them. He’s quite good at what he does, you see.”

The fellow in the bowler leaned down and whispered in a young lady’s ear, and the pretty blond giggled in response.

“Yes,” Jacquie said with a chuckle. “He is
very
good at what he does.”

Whether she knew it or not, Jacquie Abingdon was very good
at what she did too. Her charms captivated him and made him wish for a longer voyage at sea. Suddenly he longed for
Titanic
to slow her pace. If only this trip could be extended. Then, perhaps, he would have the time he needed to get to know this lovely young woman better.

Just as quickly, he thought of Father, and his heart swelled with pride.
Stay focused, Nathan. Soon you will be home, ready to begin the next chapter of your life.

Oh, if only he could keep one foot aboard the deck of
Titanic
and another at home in New York. Then, life, as Nathan Patterson knew it, would be absolutely ideal.

Chapter Eighteen

Thursday Morning, April 11, 1912

Aboard the
Titanic,
on the Boat Deck

After walking along the Boat Deck with Jacquie and Iris for nearly a half hour, Nathan approached the railing and glanced out at the waters. He closed his eyes and allowed his body to feel the movement of the boat as she glided ever westward, the rush of waves lapping at her hull and creating a push-pull feeling. Odd, how the movement in both directions could make one feel as if they weren’t going anywhere at all but rather swirling around in the same circular pool.

“Are you all right?” Jacquie asked, her sweet voice ringing out above the sound of the crashing waves below.

He opened his eyes and looked her way, noticing the concerned expression. “Oh, I’m fine. Just paying particular attention to the movement of the ship.”

“Experiencing a bit of seasickness?” she asked.

“Not at all. Just keenly aware of the flow of the boat against water. Reminds me a bit of what it’s like to play the violin.”

“The violin?” This remark came from Iris, who sounded startled.

“Yes.” He turned to face her, determined to win her over in spite of her sour ways. “
Titanic
is the bow and the water is the violin. One sails across the other, creating a steady rhythm and a
soothing melody.” He closed his eyes once again. “Do you feel it? It’s really the friction of one moving against the other that creates the sound. Reminds me of life.”

“Very intriguing,” Jacquie said. “And lovely.”

“Thank you.” He opened his eyes once more.

To his right, Iris sighed. “Never would’ve thought to compare the ship to a violin. Not sure where you came up with that.”

“I stopped playing years ago, but music is a part of me. Sometimes I think I hear it even when others don’t.”

“Clearly.” Iris pursed her lips and looked at the water. “Because I, for one, don’t hear a thing. Except the sound of the seagulls overhead, I mean. And the noise from the children playing just a few yards away.”

“You cannot deny the sound of the water lapping against the boat,” he argued. “It is most assuredly creating a melody. Haunting, really.” Nathan had just opened his mouth to add something when the grinding of brakes caught his attention.

“Do you feel that?” Jacquie’s eyes widened. “We’re slowing down.”

“We must be getting close to Queenstown,” he said.

“I can’t believe it. My first trip to Ireland.” Jacquie gripped the railing and leaned over it so far, he thought she might fall. “You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted to visit. My father’s people are from Dublin.”

“Really?” This news startled him. “I thought that Abingdon was a British name.”

“Oh, well, I—” She swallowed hard and pulled back from the railing. “Going back several generations, I mean.” Her eyelashes took to fluttering. “And did I say Father? I meant Mother. Yes, my
mother’s
people are from Ireland. Several generations removed.”

Out of the corners of his eyes, Nathan caught a glimpse of Iris
rolling her eyes. Why the young woman spent so much time in an irksome state confused him. She seemed to have some sort of issue with Jacquie, but why?

Perhaps he could turn this conversation around. “Mother and I visited Ireland a couple of years ago,” he said. “There’s something about that green countryside, those rolling hills, that reminds me of the countryside in central Pennsylvania where my grandparents live. But our most recent journeys took us to France. Have you been?”

“Oh, but of course.” With the wave of a hand, Jacquie appeared to dismiss his question.

“Ah. Well, then, you know that nothing compares to Paris. The Eiffel Tower is amazing. Didn’t you find it all rather remarkable?”

“Truly.” She glanced his way and offered a tiny shrug. “I suppose.”

“Tell me, which do you prefer—the Champs-Élysées or Versailles?” he asked. “Which is your favorite place to visit, I mean?”

“Oh.” She paused and appeared to be thinking. “I’ve always been keen on spending time with the countess. That’s by far my favorite thing to do whenever I have the opportunity.” In spite of the cool breeze coming off the water, Jacquie’s cheeks turned a rosy hue, and she fanned herself.

“Countess? Which one? The Countess of Rothes? She’s onboard, you know.”

“No.” The edges of Jacquie’s lips turned up in the cutest grin. “The one with the orneriest litter of babes you’ve ever met. What a rowdy bunch! I’m always cleaning up their messes.” She clamped a hand over her mouth, and her face turned redder still.

He doubled over in laughter. “I wish I had your sense of humor, Jacquie. It’s brilliant. I daresay you’re as sharp as a tack. Very witty.” A little wink followed. “For a girl.”

Her smile faded at once. “For a girl?” She planted her hands on her hips and faced him head-on. For a minute he thought she might double up her fist and give him a pounding. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I’m just teasing,” he said. “I didn’t mean to cause offense. But I hadn’t heard that about any countess’s family. You’ve intrigued me.”

To his right, Iris grunted. “I thought we were talking about Ireland. What’s all this mush about France? And countesses? I’ve never heard of either in Ireland.”

“True.” He nodded then turned his attention to the rocky cliffs in the distance for a moment. Just as quickly his gaze shifted back to Jacquie, who leaned forward, placing her elbows on the ship’s railing in an unladylike fashion.

“It’s beautiful.” A tiny sigh escaped those lovely lips of hers as she gazed out onto the scene before them.

Nathan couldn’t help but grin. Yes,
beautiful
was exactly the word he would have chosen too. Only he didn’t happen to be looking at the green hills of Ireland. His gaze remained fixed on the prettiest girl on the
Titanic
, one with a razor-sharp wit to boot.

Iris watched the interaction between Nathan Patterson and Tessa with interest. No one could rightfully accuse Tessa of flirting. She did not possess the talent to flirt as so many polished society girls did. Still, she had a genuine way about her, a way of drawing a young man such as Nathan into her world. But she needed to watch herself. That line about her family hailing from Ireland almost gave them away. And what was the purpose of that comment
about the countess? If Nathan found out that she referred to a sow named Countess from Gloucestershire County, the gig would be up in a hurry.