Monty glances between them. “Oh, what’s this? Did I miss something?”
Edwina shakes her head profusely, but Daphne rises to all fours and bares her teeth. “Miss Danforth, it seems, forgot my existence last night. As a result, I was rudely awoken by activities I shouldn’t have been privy to.”
I clench my jaw. What I wouldn’t give to leap off this train right now. The last thing I want to hear are details of what Edwina did with Archie.
Monty releases an exaggerated gasp. “You forgot about Daffy Dear?”
Edwina’s face twists with apology while she wrings her hands in her lap. “I’m so sorry. I gave you my pillow as payment, though. Remember?”
The pine marten huffs but settles back on her haunches. “You did give me your pillow.”
“To be fair,” Monty says to Daphne, “you should have seen that coming. Miss Danforth has a bet to win.”
“I didn’t want to see anything coming,” Daphne says. “Thanks to this workaholic, I didn’t have to.”
My gaze whips to Daphne, my pulse quickening. My mouth falls open, a question burning my tongue. I need her to clarify at once, but…but…
I release a steadying breath. William the Poet doesn’t care. William the Poet doesn’t need to know.
Monty chuckles, and I find his narrowed gaze is locked on me. Then, with a smirk, he shifts his attention to Daphne. “Care to elaborate?”
“Oh, I think Edwina should explain,” Daphne says.
“We kissed and that was enough for me,” Edwina says. “He left, and I decided to get some writing in.”
Daphne’s mouth falls open in the pine marten equivalent of a teasing grin. “She fell asleep on her notebook and woke up with ink all over the side of her face.”
Edwina absently rubs her fingers over her cheek.
Yet I’m still lingering over what she said. She’s finally given me something I can latch onto without coming across like a besotted fool.
I turn toward her with an arched brow. “So, you only kissed? After all that research you were so adamant to do with him?”
“I told you last night,” she says through her teeth, a ready glower on her face, “it didn’t matter if Archie provided material to study, so long as I could earn a point in our bet. Something not even you were able to accomplish.” She says the last part under her breath, a victorious smirk on her lips.
Monty leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “This is getting interesting. Back up just a touch. What did the two of you talk about last night?”
Edwina and I both go still. We meet each other’s eyes at the same time. My face is slack, but she recovers first. That triumphant grin is back on her face and she shifts her gaze to Monty. “Mr. Phillips, correct me if I’m wrong, but is it true thatwhen a pureblood fae states the wordsI promise, what follows is as binding as a bargain?”
“Why are you asking me?” Monty says. “You have a pureblood fae beside you.”
“Daphne then.” Edwina glances at me sidelong for only a moment. “I want the answer from someone who isn’t a talented actor.”
Fuck. Has she gleaned the truth? That I can lie, not only when I’m on the stage, but when I’m playing a more subtle role in everyday life?
“It’s true,” Daphne says. That teasing baring of her teeth returns. “Why? What did Mr. Haywood promise?”
Edwina gives me another sideways look, her smugness growing like a rose in bloom. It draws out my competitive side. Makes me want to wipe that look off her face. She purses her lips, then mutters, “I wonder if he even recalls.”
I scoff. If she wants to play this game, I can play too. Angling my body toward her, I cross one knee over the other until my foot brushes against her silk skirt, then I prop my elbow on the backrest. “Oh, I recall, Weenie. You don’t have to be shy about sharing. Tell them. Tell them what I promised you.”
To my great delight, her smile falters and her posture stiffens. I keep my eyes on her profile, daring her not to shrink away. Finally, she angles her head to lock her gaze with mine. Her breath hitches, the motion visible even through the pleats and folds of her high-collared white blouse.
“On second thought,” Monty says, rising from the bench, “I think I’ll visit the smoking car. Join me, Daph.”
Daphne leaps off the bench. “Is it because you smell what I smell?”
“Yes, my little mustelid friend,” Monty says as he reaches the door to our compartment. “That is the smell of sexual tension. We’ll leave you to it.”
