Page 71 of The Temptation of Roan Island

“You look handsome,” I say, though the sentiment falls short of what’s happening inside me.

He smiles and dips his head in acknowledgement. “We make a gorgeous pair.” He holds out his arm. “Shall we?”

As we enter the dining room, I try to calm my nerves with slow breaths. The room bustles with people dressed in their finest. Men in formal suits, women in glittering dresses in a variety of colors, waiters meandering between them with their trays and drinks. The din of conversation and laughter fills the space. An empty dance floor waits in front of an orchestra playing soft music. Three gold and crystal chandeliers offer ambient light to the whole affair.

It’s beautiful, truly, but I don’t belong among this kind of gleaming opulence. This is Shemaiah’s world. Not mine.

Just as Shemaiah pulls out a seat for me, the cruise director rushes over. “Oh, no! Mr. and Mrs. Roan, you can’t sit there. You’ve been seated at the head table. If you’ll follow me.” He motions toward a large table at the front of the room.

Captain Day is already there beside a beautiful, heavy-set woman wearing a black dress and a strand of pearls. There’s a man next to her who I presume is her husband from the way he’s whispering in her ear. Another man sits next to them. He’s younger, with the type of groomed beard men are proud to flaunt.

“Ah, Mr. Roan,” Captain Day stands when we reach the table. “So good of you to join us.”

I stifle a laugh at the implication that we had a choice while Shemaiah holds out his hand for the other gentleman. Captain Day precedes to introduce Mr. Stevens and his wife, who are going to New Caldon for a holiday at the beach. The final gentleman is Graham Pinkerton. He looks remarkably familiar, but I can’t place him. It seems unlikely that I know him at all. He’s wearing a finely tailored suit with a silk cravat and gold pocket watch similar to Shemaiah’s. He drips elegant confidence.

His head tilts to the side, his eyes narrowing as I take the open seat across from him with Shemaiah on my left and Mrs. Stevens on my right.

“Will you be staying long in New Caldon, Mrs. Roan?” Mrs. Stevens smiles before taking a sip of her wine.

“We have yet to finalize our plans,” I reply.

Mrs. Stevens sets down her glass and absentmindedly twirls the pearls around her neck. There are matching pearl pins in her hair, and her dress is an expensive chiffon in the latest style. She wears it all with the casual grace of someone used to wealth.

“We adore the coast.” Mrs. Steven leans in like we’re conspiring about something before proceeding to tell me all about the best restaurants and shops to visit. The kinds of places Martin’s mother shopped. Places where a single dress would cost six months of my salary.

I take a sip of wine and hope the woman doesn’t notice my discomfort, suddenly feeling like a child playing dress-up in clothes that aren’t mine, worried that I might be found out at any moment. What would they all think if they knew I was nothing more than a poor, sick servant?

“Do I know you?” Mr. Pinkerton asks when the main course is set before us and Mrs. Stevens pauses for breath.

“I don’t believe so.” I drop my head, remembering suddenly where I’ve seen him before, unnerved by the memory.

“Took out half the city,” Captain Day says, loud enough to draw our attention to the other side of the table. “Haven’t had a fire like that in fifty years.” He stuffs his mouth full of an overly large bite of meat.

Fire? The hair on my arm rises, an uneasy feeling circling like a cloud.

“Where?” Shemaiah asks, his voice as tight as my hand squeezing his arm.

Captain Day swallows and washes his food down with a drink of wine. “Why in Caldon. Haven’t you been listening?”

“Where in Caldon?” Shemaiah’s hand drops to my knee under the table as if bracing me for the answer.

“The west side mostly,” he replies. “I just got word before we left.”

“That’s going to put a lot of people out.” Mr. Pinkerton lifts his wineglass to his lips. Despite his words, he seems relaxed, unbothered.

I’m going to be sick. As if he can read my apprehension, Shemaiah hands me a glass of water, and I drink.

“The biggest issue is the Children’s Home,” Captain Day says. My heart stops. “City officials asked us to bring the children back on our return flight to New Essik. Train’s full, and there’s nowhere for them to go in New Caldon, not with half the city in shambles.” He glances at me and tugs on his mustache. “Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. Roan, the upper city is just fine. It shouldn’t affect your honeymoon too terribly.”

“Can we get a ticket on that return flight?” Shemaiah asks, ignoring the man’s glibness.

“Well, I don’t handle tickets, you know. Normally, we don’t make a return trip so soon. We’re only going right back because of the children. It’ll be a skeletal crew.” His bushy eyebrows turn down. “Don’t you want to enjoy the city?”

“We’d like passage on the trip with the children.” There’s a firm resolve in Shemaiah’s demeanor that I’m certain the other man can sense.

Captain Day shakes his head. “Of course, Mr. Roan. We’ll make it work.”

I can feel Mr. Pinkerton’s gaze on me as Mrs. Stevens picks up her glass and lifts it in the air. “I dare say this might be good for the city. An opportunity to rebuild something a bit more… presentable on the west side. Oh, think of all the new shops and restaurants!”