The Last Camellia: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

it exist only in the headlines of the newspapers. But now? It stood before me in a gray suit, shoulders dusted with raindrops.
    “I felt so free in New York, so unencumbered,” he continued. “I was tempted to leave it all behind and stay.” He smiled at me. “Start over, you know?” He shook his head. “But I have to finish what I started.”
    I nodded, thinking about the camellia, the lies I was about to tell. “I know what you mean.”
    Just then, music began to play from the direction of the upper deck. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said. “The Captain’s Welcoming Ball is tonight. Did you see the invitation?”
    My cheeks flushed. Of course, third-class passengers, I was sure, had not received the same invitations slipped under their doors. “Yes,” I said, momentarily ashamed of myself. But then Desmond took my hand, and all concern melted away.
    “Let’s go,” he said. “Together.”
    “But I’m not dressed appropriately,” I said, looking down at my simple blue dress. “I didn’t pack anything formal.”
    “Nonsense,” he said. “You look perfect as you are. Besides, we don’t have to go in, if you don’t want to. We can just catch a little of the music and champagne from the lobby.”
    “Well,” I said, “I—”
    “Good,” he replied. “It’s a date.”

    Ladies in formal attire bustled by us, on the arms of smartly dressed gentlemen. I felt out of place, and I wondered what Mr. Price would think of my presence here. I looked around, hoping not to find him in the ballroom.
    “Good evening, sir,” a steward said to Desmond, before turning to me. I thought I detected a look of surprise on his face, but I tried to ignore it. “Good evening, madame,” he said. “Champagne?”
    “Yes, thank you,” Desmond said, swiping two filled glasses from the steward’s tray and handing one to me.
    I studied the way the bubbles skipped and danced in the glass flute. Desmond took a drink, and I followed. It was my first taste of champagne, and I liked it. The moment I’d finished the glass, a steward appeared with a fresh one. I felt warm all over, and when Desmond suggested we get some air outside, the cold wind didn’t have near the sting as it had earlier, especially with his jacket draped over my shoulders.
    The band began playing a slower song, and Desmond smiled. “Care to dance?”
    “Yes,” I said, feeling light and uninhibited. I wondered what Mr. Price would think, but I banished the thought.
    Desmond pulled me closer to him, and we swayed to the mu- sic under the starlit sky. He looked up and pointed overhead. “Look,” he said. “That one’s trying to communicate with us.”
    I grinned. “Oh, is it?”
    “Yes,” he replied. “The stars have their own language, you know. If you’re careful, you can learn it.”
    “All right, Aristotle,” I said. “So what’s this star trying to say?”
    He stared up at the sky for a few moments, watching the star sparkle.
    “And?” he said. He nodded his head to himself, then looked back at me. “Just what I thought.”
    “So you’re not going to tell me?”
    “Can’t,” he said, grinning.
    “You’re something else, you know,” I said, stealing a sideways glance at him. I leaned my head against his chest, and we swayed together like that for a moment, before I felt a tap on my shoulder.
    I looked up to see Mr. Price.
    “Excuse me, Miss Lewis,” he said territorially. “It’s getting late. Don’t you think you ought to be finding your way back to your room?”
    I dropped my hands to my side and took a step back. “I was only—”
    “Miss Lewis,” Mr. Price said, giving me a stern look.
    I turned to Desmond. He looked confused, concerned. “He’s right,” I said. “It’s getting late. Thank you for the lovely time tonight.”
    Desmond nodded, despite his obvious disappointment, and I turned to leave, following Mr. Price to the blue-carpeted staircase ahead.
    “Miss Lewis,” Mr. Price said when he’d