A lame excuse, but he wouldn’t press her. Doubtless, she had spent two sleepless nights fretting over her decision, and did not want him to know how she’d wavered down to the very last minute.
“Never mind,” he said, handing her to the stationmaster, who helped her aboard. Wade reached for her sister. “You’re coming, too?”
Honoria shook her head, equally out of breath. The ladies weren’t accustomed to moving so quickly. They’d made a mad dash from their cottage.
“I told her to run, even if she made it without her bags.” The young woman handed him the carpetbag, hatbox, and prized sewing kit. “Here, Your Grace. These are your responsibility now.”
He accepted the load, understanding that more than just luggage was in his care. “You needn’t worry. She is precious to me.”
Honoria smiled, though she could not hide the tears brimming in her eyes. “I’d never let you have her if she wasn’t.” She waved at her sister, who stood in the doorway of their car. “Safe journey, Cass! I hope the seaside is everything you’ve been waiting for!”
The whistle sounded out a warning. Mr. Rhodes carefully eased the tearful young lady away from the boards. Smoke and steam clouded the station, mixing with the morning fog to form a thick curtain.
Wade climbed onto the train and joined Cassandra in their carriage. She’d pressed her face to the window for one last glimpse at everything she had ever known, and everyone she was leaving behind.
“Good-bye, Honoria!” she called to the fading figures. “I’ll see you soon, I promise!”
He stashed her carpetbag and hatbox, but kept the sewing kit on the bench beside them. He placed his hat on the seat cushion, nestling both in for the long journey, as she might wish to work on her embroidery to pass the time.
Wade wondered if she would ever stitch something for him.
Although he was generous to those he cared about—his mother and her children, Simon, Leah, his few friends in town—no one had givenhima gift in a rather long time. He couldn’t remember the last occasion when anyone had bothered.
He hoped Cassandra would bother.
The train lurched forward. Each carriage rumbled on its bogies as they pulled away from the platform. Whistles screeched, the locomotive bellowed, and the quiet countryside leaped to life.
Wade watched as Longstone slipped from view. The cottage rooftops passed by the window, faster and faster, until each building was little more than a blur. Once the cars traveled through the arched, stone tunnel, the village disappeared completely.
Foggy, green dales rolled on for miles.
“If you hoped to travel incognito,” he said, settling back against the upholstered bench, “you’ve failed.”
“ ‘Incognito?’ ” She touched her veil. “You mean this?” When he nodded, she continued, “It is not to hide my identity, but to obscure my face. Folk make such a fuss. I thought it would be safer if I looked like everyone else.”
She didn’t wish to be noticed? What sort of fuss did men make over her to make her feel unsafe in public?
“You’ve nothing to fear, Cassandra. Not now. Not here with me.” He offered his gloved hand, and she took it, curling her slender fingers against his. He would fight for her.Killfor her, even. “No one shall lay a hand on you or harass you. There shall be no more unwanted proposals or strangers following you home. You have my word.”
“Thank you, Wadebridge. Would you be so kind as to pin it back for me?”
With his free hand, he lifted the veil from below her chin. He trembled as he revealed lips, cheeks, the tip of her nose, and two bright eyes beneath the brim of her hat. Damnable woman, she knew exactly what she was doing. He felt as nervous as a bridegroom.
At last, he pinned her veil over her hat in some semblance of style. It framed her pretty face without obscuring it, much like he’d seen other ladies attempt—though none looked half so lovely as she did.
“There,” he said. “Now you can see where you are heading.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
She did not recognize the countryside. The peaks and dales she’d known all her life had long since given way to flat pastureland, wide canals, and—as they approached yet another city—chimney stacks belching soot into the sky.
Cassandra never imagined that England could be so diverse. With each station stop, she saw people of all backgrounds milling about the towns. It seemed as though the world had converged into one busy, blended mass rushing to work in factories, foundries, and workshops.
Life in Longstone had been sheltered, indeed.
Wadebridge leaned over her shoulder to admire the spectacle. “Amazing isn’t it? Hard to fathom that all ofthiswaited just over the hills.”
She nodded. How had she lived her life without witnessing modern civilization? Society must’ve advanced a great deal in the last twenty-five years, for not even Mama and Papa had hinted at what existed beyond the quiet borders of their home.
