As she joined the line of passengers, she gazed upward, admiring the canopy of steel arches that formed the interior of the station. She even tried turning herself around, as if to take in the whole of the station in one last panoramic sweeping glance.
Why couldn’t he stop looking at her?
From her voice, her accent, her clothes, she had to be a noblewoman. Likely with too much money, a great deal of education—judging by her trove of books with gilt-engraved covers—and possessed of the same haughtiness she’d used when speaking to the old man.
But she was traveling alone. That seemed utter folly for a lady so young and pretty.
By the time propriety caught up with him and he realized he should cease watching her and step forward, she’d hitched the strap of her valise higher on her shoulder and moved back into the line of embarking passengers.
“You getting on the train or admiring the scenery, chap?” A hulking tower of a man nudgedJames’s shoulder, and he joined the procession toward the train again too.
Almost against his will, he found himself looking for the lady in purple. Was she a pampered wife who’d been separated from her husband? No, James decided. A man would be a fool to abandon such a lady. Most likely, she was a bluestocking, independent minded enough to insist on traveling on her own.
Whoever she was, and despite her beauty, she was also undoubtedly a blue blood. And he’d sworn off amorous entanglements with noble ladies, just as he vowed to never do business with aristocrats again.
But she intrigued him, and after months of self-imposed celibacy due to his crushing financial defeat, his body responded hungrily.
Get a hold of yourself, man.
After boarding the express train, he found his car easily enough. As he seated himself, he couldn’t resist a sigh of pleasure at finding it sparsely occupied. Just one old curmudgeon grumbling as he read theTimes.
James had been too distracted by the young woman to buy a newspaper for himself. He tended to peruse one each day. An old habit of keeping abreast of news that might impact his shipping enterprise. Though now he always hoped to read some piece about Archibald Beck being exposed as the miscreant he was.
Pressing his fingers to his temple, he attempted tostem the thrumming that had begun the moment he’d set out for the station. Without the distraction of the lady on the platform, his anxiety regarding train travel was back with a vengeance.
He’d been able to avoid travel by train for most of his adult life. But this was the fastest way, and getting the Scottish manor house liquidated quickly mattered most.
He drew in a breath that filled his lungs, letting it out slowly. He counted as he breathed, letting his eyes slide shut and opening them a few moments later.
And then, she was there, passing by his train car. The bluestocking with her gorgeous mouth. He still felt guilty for knocking all her expensive books onto the ground.
He told himself there were much more pressing matters at hand. He clenched his fists, reminding himself just how important those matters were. The last thing he needed was the complication of a train trip dalliance with a bluestocking.
No matter how distractingly fetching she was.
Chapter Four
Lucy found her train car easily enough and was pleased to discover that two ladies would be her companions for the journey. She gave each a quick smile, stowed her valise on the shelf above her head, and took her seat.
There, now it was settled. Papa couldn’t stop her. Though the train remained still, puffing steam, and hadn’t yet rolled from the station, her journey had well and truly begun.
Though the bubbling energy she’d felt this morning had turned to something else.
Irritation caused her to fumble with the buttons of her gloves, so she stripped them off and pressed the cool back of her hand to her flaming cheek.
Whatever she was feeling, it washisfault. That man. That tall, rude—
“Are you all right?” One of the ladies had taken the seat next to Lucy, and her companion sat across from them.
“Quite,” Lucy told her with forced cheerfulness. “Thank you. It’s a bit warm. That’s all.”
“Is it?” The older woman cast her gaze down,then tipped her head as if giving Lucy’s claim deep consideration. “I’m afraid my sister and I could not agree. We were just remarking on the bite in the air. Winter is on its way, and we only pray it’s not yet utterly frigid in Edinburgh.”
Lucy could help with this worry. She flipped open her sketchbook, the empty pages of which she was using to organize her travel documents and anything she might need to reference quickly for her trip.
“I can assure you that it won’t be frigid.” Under the train timetable and the stub from her ticket, Lucy found the page where she’d recorded the relevant information. “Though we may have a cold winter, the weather in Scotland is expected to be cool but not cold enough to freeze.”
“How on earth do you know that?” The lady across from Lucy stared down at the journal in her hands as if it was a tome of arcane knowledge.
