Читать книгу Titanic: A Date With Destiny - Marguerite Kaye - Страница 9

Jennifer jerked herself free from Max’s caress. ‘I’m glad we’ve cleared up our misunderstanding. I expect you want to go back to first class.’

‘I like the company here,’ he replied. ‘Tell me, what made you sign up for service on the Titanic?’

‘I’m working my passage to America. I need to make a fresh start away from … from everything. I’m planning to set up my own business.’

She waited for Max Blakely—who, according to Maud, was one of America’s most successful businessmen—to sneer. He didn’t. ‘What kind of business?’ he asked.

‘Mail order. Luxuries imported from England. Soaps, perfumes, lace, tea sets, linens. The kinds of things people will buy so they can say I believe that Lady Lansbury uses the same one,’ Jennifer said in a fair imitation of her most recent employer.

‘And how do you know what Lady Lansbury uses?’

‘I’ve spent the last five years in service. Believe me, I know everything about aristocratic households.’

‘Tell me more. Seriously, please.’

She hesitated, but he drew her out with questions, his interest piqued by both her idea and the mind that had formed it. Her eyes lit up with enthusiasm as she talked, and he recognised that sparkle, that steely determination.

‘That’s a good business proposition,’ he said, after she’d explained her idea fully, ‘but it will need funds. Do you have them?’

‘I’m planning to start small. My husband left me some money, and since he died I’ve been putting a little aside from my wages.’

Here was the reason for the sadness in those big eyes, Max realised. He didn’t like that she’d been married, though why that should be the case he had no idea—he couldn’t possibly envy a dead man. ‘How long has it been since you lost him?’

‘Five years. But he had been an invalid for five before that. He was wounded in Africa, fighting the Boers.’

‘You’re what—twenty-eight or nine? You must have married very young.’

‘I’m thirty, actually. I was eighteen when we married. We were young, but Peter knew he would most likely be posted abroad and we were in love. You understand.’

‘Not really.’ Max had never even stopped to smell the roses, never mind consider settling down. ‘You can’t have had much of a life, caring for an invalid.’

‘It certainly wasn’t much of a life for Peter.’

‘But if he left you well provided for, why wait five years to do something with it?’

‘I lost my husband, Mr Blakely. We may not have had the kind of marriage we’d hoped for, but we were together for seven years. When he died, though, I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted.’

‘But you do now?’

‘I know I’m finally ready to find out.’

‘You’re an extraordinary woman, Jennifer Spencer. And a woman, if I may say so, after my own heart. What you’re doing, it’s bold on the verge of madness, you do realise that?’

‘Of course I do, and frankly I’m terrified.’

‘But determined all the same.’ That he understood.

Max gazed out over the grey sea. She deserved help, a woman like Jennifer, and he owed her, after those things he’d said. This journey across the Atlantic, he had been thinking of it as dead time. But in the company of this extraordinary woman—someone who really did deserve a break—the days would fly by.

That settled it.