Rupert nodded, solemn and sombre though it were belied by the twinkle in his eyes. “Well said, son.”
Oliver beamed and elbowed Victor, who responded by tucking his bunny under his chin.
“Where did you and the lads get to, boy? They’re missing the first look at the town.” Smith entered the compartment, wearing a thunderous scowl. The acquaintance of years had learned Alice such an expression was Smith’s way of showing affection.
Then, she realised what Smith had said. They were so close to Ironwood, she could smell it.
The roil of her stomach started again.
Smith’s frown dissolved into an expression approaching stricken, and he turned such to Rupert. “I’m sorry, boy, I had no notion your missus was so riled.”
“Smith, you weren’t to know.” Untangling the boys from her, Rupert led them to Smith. “Maybe you should take Oliver and Victor for a time, while I speak to Alice.”
Smith nodded sharply then looked to her. “Miz Alice, you’re not to be worried about a thing. I’ll take the boys to have a look out the dining car.”
She couldn’t speak past a constriction that had seen fit to rise in her throat. She felt more than saw Rupert move, escorting Smith and the boys to the door.
“Thank you, Smith,” he said, and then the compartment door closed.
“Do you think we’ll see Mama’s theatre from the train, Uncle Smith?” Oliver’s bright voice floated through from the hall.
“Now, lad, why don’t we just wait and see.” Smith continued to speak, but distance and the sounds of the train masked any further words.
Brow knotted, she wrapped her arms about her waist once more. An ill taste fouled the back of her throat.
Strong arms folded over hers and warm lips brushed her temple. “Don’t fret, love. It will all turn out well, you’ll see. It’ll be like you never left before you know it.”
Leaning into him, she tried to believe his words. Before him, she’d dealt with this anxiety by herself. Before him, she’d been able to. It was just…it was so much easier when someone stood at your side, someone you loved and who loved you in return.
Turning, she sought his embrace. Burrowing into him as much as she was able, she took comfort in his hands stroking her back. He rested his chin on her head, his hands soothing as they glided up and down.
Pulling away, she reacquainted herself with every beloved feature, every cherished detail. The scar by his brow he’d received as a boy. The bristles near his ear he always missed when he shaved. A kind of calm settled upon her, one that stood side-by-side with tension.
Dark eyes regarded her steadily. “Don’t fret. All will be well.”
Taking a breath, she stared at his chin, her fingers tracing a pattern on his shoulder. “How do you know?”
“Because it will be. Bloody hell, we’ve moved from one side of the world to the other, and you’ve been amazing in both. Just think of all you’ve done. You’ve brought your show from Ironwood, Wyoming, to Paris, France, and you’ve wowed them every time. This—” He gestured in the direction they headed. “This is nothing more than a moment. You will arrive back in Ironwood, and you will be magnificent.”
“I will?” She wanted to believe his words, she truly did.
He snorted. “Of course you will. You’re married tome.How could you be anything but?
Unwilling amusement tugged at her. “Damn, but you think well of yourself.”
He regarded her loftily. “If I don’t, no one else will.”
“True.” She could do this. Rupert believed she could. Stepping back, she brushed at her gown. “Well, if I’m going to be magnificent, I should look the part. How do I look?”
“Delicious.” His expression turned wicked. “Are you wearing your underthings?”
A heat unfurled in her, one that kept the nerves at bay and a saucy smile to tug at her mouth. Well hell, she needed distraction, and Rupert wasrealgood at distraction.
“Of course.” Her smile widened at his pained groan. “A dark blue corset, to match my dress. Sheer lace chemise.” Tilting forward, she let her lips brush his ear. “It’s so scandalous. Why, it’s almostsee-through.” Straightening, she concealed her smugness at the fire burning in his dark eyes.
He clutched his heart. “Why are you torturing me, woman?”
Trailing her hand over his shoulder, she winked. “It will make you more appreciative. Later.”
