Where Love's Sweet Roses Bloom

Chapter 4

     The First Class Dining and Reception Room was, once more, filled with the warm glow of crystal chandeliers and soft strains of music. The elegant attire of the first class passengers present – the women adorned in their finest gowns and jewelry, and the men in their tailored evening dress – complimented the opulence of their environment wonderfully as they discussed the events of their respective days aboard.

     It all blended perfectly together into a pleasant atmosphere.

     And, at the center of it all, stood the architect of the ship at the bottom of the grand staircase, leant against its base under a bronze cherub. Thomas, at the invitation of Mr. Hockley, had agreed to join his and the DeWitt Bukater's table for dinner this evening. He hated to admit it, but his appearances at dinner were a much rarer occurrence than they should have been; he was guilty of preferring to have dinner in his room so that he could continue working.

     But tonight was different.

     And, as he stood there, patiently awaiting the arrival of his reason for being there, his mind couldn't help but occupy itself with thoughts of the person he was looking forward to dining with the most, who he has been unable to rid from his thoughts since their fated meeting.

     Rose was a spirited young woman; anybody could see that just by glancing her way.

     But Thomas...Thomas saw so much more.

     He was no fool, however, and understood that what he knew of her was only as much as she allowed him to see; one had to be proficient at hiding one's blood trail when swimming amidst the sharks. Still, Thomas liked to believe that she had permitted him to see the more candid parts of herself.

     She was a rarity among the rest of First Class, a precious gem amidst a sea of polished stones. There was a genuine authenticity to her, a spark of life that seemed to defy the rigid expectations of her privileged world.

     He had known Rose for a little less than a day, and, though their encounter the other night had been less than ideal as far as introductions went, there was no denying – try as he might – the profound impression that she has had upon him.

     Thomas found himself drawn to her and had grown to care for her, deeply, with each passing moment they shared.

     And brief their friendship was. He's only just had an actual, real conversation with her hours earlier, and yet, a reality in which he did not know Miss Rose DeWitt Bukater seemed unfathomable.

     This realization both intrigued and frightened him.

     "Thousands of tons of Hockley steel are in this very ship!" the unmistakable gloating voice of Caledon Hockley carried down the staircase, bringing Thomas's train of thought to a pause.

     A welcomed distraction from thoughts he did not feel like dealing with.

     Not yet.

     "Which parts?" Mrs. DeWitt Bukater's voice followed, feeding expectantly and eagerly into Mr. Hockley's ego.

     Thomas had yet to glance their way; he would prefer to keep his presence unknown for the time being so as to avoid having to make conversation. To put it kindly, he was not the most fond of Mrs. DeWitt Bukater and Mr. Hockley.

     "All the right ones, of course." Charm oozed from the man, sickeningly so; whatever attempts he made to win the affections of Rose's mother were purely out of self-gain at this point. He was already engaged to her daughter, after all. There was no more need to compete for her approval.