Everyone leaned out and looked to their left as the ship moved down the slip. Now Adele could see the edge of the hull beneath the roof of the observation deck. There was little to see above the hull. A deck and the beginnings of superstructure, but there were no funnels yet, and the luxury interiors the Cunard line had promised were yet to be installed.
“She will be rather magnificent, once she is properly finished,” Adele murmured.
“But not the most luxurious,” the man replied. “Have you not heard? Cunard are building a second luxury ship, in Wallsend.” He lifted his notebook. “The RMS Mauretania.”
Adele considered the man. “I would say that you are uncommonly well informed, but I suppose it is part of your work as a journalist to know everything.”
“Oh, not everything. For instance, I do not know who you are, my Lady, and as there is no one I am acquainted with here on the deck, that is a gap in my knowledge which must linger.”
“Yet you speak to me, despite the lack of formal introduction.”
“But that is part of my work, too, you see.” His eyes were twinkling yet again.
“There are five hundred and ninety-nine other guests at this launch. You have spoken to all of them?”
At the front of the deck, the guests leaning against the railing straightened and a great cheer went up.
“She’s fully in the water now,” the journalist guessed, for neither of them could see anything from this far back on the deck.
Adele remained silent, waiting for the man to answer her question.
He had the intelligence to not avoid her question. He closed his notebook with a decisive slap of paper. “The other five hundred and ninety-nine guests are not standing by themselves at the back of the deck where they can see very little. Nor are they looking…disgruntled.”
“Ah.” She grimaced, then said in a rush, “I’m not entirely sure how one goes about introducing themselves.”
“You’ve never had to do it for yourself?”
“Oh, I did it all the time in the Cape Colony, but that is South Africa and things were a little more relaxed there.”
“And how would you introduce yourself to a stranger in the Cape Colony?”
She considered, recalling the many times she had met someone. “I would say to them, ‘I am Lady Adelaide Azalea Margaret de Morville, Mrs. Hugh Becket’.”
“And they would say?”
“They would usually look confused and ask me what they should call me,” she admitted.
He laughed. “I am Phillip Cowden, Esquire.” He bowed his head. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Adelaide.”
A commoner. Not upper class, not if he was employed. Upper middle class, then. Adelaide nodded at him, her hat brim bobbing. “Thank you for your illuminating comments upon the Lusitania, Mr. Cowden.”
“Lady Adelaide! Adele!” The high-pitched voice made Adele swallow a groan, for it was coming closer.
She painted a wide smile upon her face and turned to face Miriam Lynwood. “Miriam, dear, how delightful! I didn’t know you were here.” Since Balmoral, Miriam had acted as though she and Adele had been friends forever, when they had only known each other for a few short years before Adele’s marriage. Royal approval drew leeches.
Miriam Lynwood held her arms out and leaned toward Adele for the empty kiss beside her cheek. They did it carefully, for Miriam’s hat brim was just as wide as Adele’s.
“Isn’t it a simply enormous boat?” Miriam exclaimed. “Maybury wants to book passage upon her for the maiden voyage, but that means actually visiting America.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “New York,” she added in an undertone, her distaste dripping.
Adele barely managed to not roll her eyes. “New York is a very pleasant city, Miriam.”
“Good lord, don’t tell me…you’ve actually been there?” Miriam put her gloved hands to her cheeks. “Oh dear, I do forget. You lived in that dreadful place in Africa. New York would seem heavenly after that, I suppose.”
Cowden cleared his throat. “I must speak to the Chairman of Cunard, Lady Adelaide.” He gave another bow of his head and threaded his way between the guests, who were now moving away from the railing, clumping together for conversation and for more champagne.
Miriam paid no attention to the man, which was proper, for she would not know who he was, either. She turned back to Adele and gripped her wrist. “Come with me, Adele,” she said firmly. “Esther and Mary have been cornered by that dreadful Lady Penryn and her two daughters…you know, the poor dears with the buck teeth. We simply must rescue Esther and Mary.”
Adele very nearly lodged her heels into the temporary boards of the observation deck, a silent scream of protest building in her middle. How had she thought such vapid conversations and intrigues to be so delightful? Yet this had been her life, once.
Over Miriam’s shoulder, Adele spotted a tall figure with dark blond hair and no hat. Daniel Bannister. Her heart gave a little thrill of pleasure, while relief trickled through her, for Daniel was moving with purpose in her direction.
“I’m afraid Lady Adelaide has a prior engagement with me, Lady Miriam,” Daniel said, stepping up beside Adele.
“Baron Leighton.” Miriam acknowledged him, her tone chilly.
Adele simpered at Miriam. “I’m so sorry, but Daniel is quite correct. We are to…we are having afternoon tea at…at…”
“In the Royal Tea Rooms on Argyle Street,” Daniel added smoothly.
“Without a chaperone?” Miriam cried.
“Good lord, Miriam. I am a widow, not a debutante,” Adele said tiredly.
Miriam drew herself up. “I see. If you put it that way, then I suppose…”
Daniel held out his elbow. “Come along, Lady Adelaide. I have a cab waiting.”
Adele took his arm gratefully and told Miriam, “We must catch up, when we get back. Dinner at my house, and time to catch up on all the news. Yes?”
Miriam raised a brow. “At your house?”
Adele nodded firmly. “Yes. It is about time I began to entertain. I’ve nearly finished sorting out all my things and making the house a home. You will be my
