Damned snobs, just like his late uncle. If he had anything to thank Rufus Pembroke for, it was the opportunity to learn that he could survive on his own.
But then he’d grown desperate for funds, and Beck had been so bloody reassuring. The actors of Drury Lane had nothing on the man’s performance.
Nevertheless, James should have known better, and now he did. Never again would he trust anyone so damned easily.
“Arriving now, guv,” the cabbie called down again.
James collected the suitcase that would serve as his only luggage for the trip. With any luck, this venture would be a short one. If the manor house wasn’t a dilapidated pile, finding a buyer shouldn’t take long.
Leaning forward, he let out an oath of frustration. The clog of traffic may have let up midway, but it seemed as if they’d all ended up in front of the station. A drove of passengers moved in a wave toward the entrance, and James prepared himself to be crushed between strangers for the duration of the trip.
He paid the cabbie, patted his chest to ensure the documents that he needed to prove his ownership of Invermere Manor were secure, and joined the sea of bodies moving toward the platforms.
A squabbling family took up the whole of the space ahead of him, and no matter how he tried to sidestep them, one or two would spread out enough to block his way. When one of the little boys stopped to collect a stuffed bear he’d dropped, stalling the entire procession of passengers, James decided he’d had enough.
“Pardon me.” He turned to make himself as narrow as his bulk would allow and squeezed past the father. The man grumbled in irritation, but James got clear and was able to pick up his stride. The Scotch Express came into view and wariness overtook him. If he could just get on the train, he could stop worrying about getting on the train.
He knew he was being rude, but he couldn’t stop himself from squeezing past a bickering couple who’d slowed in front of him. This time, the lady seemed most irritated, and James’s sense of chivalry made him turn back and offer a belatedpardon meas he passed.
But as he glanced at the couple, his body collided with something soft and warm ahead of him. A moment later, a block of concrete slammed onto his foot.
“Bloody hell.” The shout of pain emerged at the same moment his gaze clashed with the woman he’d bumped into. Her lips were parted in shock and seeming outrage, but she’d grabbed his arm to keep herself steady and held on as if she was still in danger of taking a tumble.
He didn’t mind. He liked the heat of it, the firmness of her small hand wrapped around his forearm. Under the brim of a sizable hat, James caught sight of the prettiest lips he’d ever seen. Plump and peaked and pink, tipped up at the edges as if they were used to forming a smile.
But she wasn’t smiling now, and when she tipped her hat back, eyes framed by thick lashes flared with undisguised irritation.
Disappointment echoed through him when she let go of his arm and immediately started to bend to retrieve the books that had slid out of the thousand-pound valise he’d caused her to drop.
With the movement, they collided again, and her head bumped his chin. Actually, it was her hat—a gargantuan purple concoction with an enormous satin ribbon and silk flowers.
“You’ve ruined my hat,” she said, seemingly more appalled at the offense to her accessory than to her person.
They were too close, though with the swarm ofother passengers passing by, it was impossible not to be. Still, her sweet floral and warm spice scent was so delicious, it made him draw in a deeper breath.
She watched him warily as she lifted both arms to fuss with her hat.
Green. Her eyes were green. But not a simple dark emerald or even anything as familiar as grass. They were a cool green like jade, shot through with gold strands.
“It’s just a little askew.” He reached up to help and she let out a gasp. He avoided touching her and focused on making the brim as even as he could. The thing was no doubt pinned on, and he sensed the moment it tugged at her hair and stopped.
Blond hair, satiny and honey colored—he couldn’t help but notice.
“There. Now, stand still, don’t bump me again, and I’ll retrieve your books.”
Another breathy gasp of outage. “Youbumped intomeif we wish to be accurate about the whole thing.”
Her voice made him smile. Deeper than some ladies and yet with an uplifting lilt, a natural sort of joviality, even though she was annoyed with him.
“Here.” He handed up a hairpin that had come loose and landed near a book.
“I say, clear off,” an old whiskered man snapped at them.
“A true gentleman might offer to help a ladyrather than being rude,” she said in an icy tone. Then she swept her gaze around at the other gentlemen nearby, as if daring them to bark at her like the old man had.
“Here.” James offered her the final book that had fallen, and she shoved it into her valise with a nod of dismissal.
When she turned her back, he sensed others moving past him and realized he’d stalled. Watching her. Fascinated.
