“That sounds like just the thing we need,” Maribel agreed instantly and turned to Lucy. “Won’t you join us, Miss Westmont?”
“I’d love to.” It was likely a futile hope, but she dearly wished Mr. Nichols would choose another train car while they were gone. Since he appeared to be dozing, they left him to his rest.
As they made their way down the corridor, Lucy told herself not to stare into the other train cars in search of a man with sapphire eyes.Such nonsense.The whole incident had been odd. Certainly, that was why she couldn’t get it out of her mind.
“Hold on!” Jane Wilson shouted as the train took a rather sudden curve in the tracks.
“Heavens, it’s worse than a ship in stormy waters.”
Lucy had never been on a ship, though her father had traveled a great deal, and the stories he’d told made her long for a sea voyage.
“Only a little further,” the elder Wilson sister assured them as she led the procession down the narrow passageway.
Delicious scents emanated from the dining car—fresh bread and smoky coffee—and they were lucky. Despite it already being busy, they managed to find one table with three chairs.
Yet, before they could all get into their seats, the younger Miss Wilson seemed to have a spell.
“Oh, Jane, it’s coming on.” Maribel stumbled a bit and gripped the back of the chair.
“She has dizzy spells,” Jane told Lucy as she embraced her sister.
Lucy rushed to pull out the chair, and Miss Wilson helped her sister into it.
“I’ll get you some tea and perhaps some water biscuits.” Lucy gestured at a passing waiter, and the young man nodded as if he’d overheard her.
Maribel’s skin had gone a pasty white. She seemed to be in a state of shock.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Lucy asked, wishing to help ease the lady’s discomfort.
“There’s a tonic she takes for these. It’s back in our train car, the embroidered bag on the rack above our bench.”
As soon as Lucy saw the waiter approaching with tea and biscuits on a tray, she stood. “I’ll go now.”
“It’s a small blue bottle,” Maribel whispered. “And thank you, my dear.”
“Of course.”
Lucy rushed back to their train car. Once she reached number Five, she hesitated, noting that Mr. Nichols stillseemedto be dozing. Sliding the door open gently, she moved quickly but attempted to be as quiet as possible. Unfortunately, the embroidered bag was on the metal rail above him.
Lucy reached up, trying not to bump him or the bench, and was able to retrieve the bag. Turning, she set it on her bench and leaned over to sift through the contents. A cluster of neatly foldedhandkerchiefs sat on top, but when she pushed them aside, she found a number of bottles in a small compartment, each secured by a leather strap. Several of them were blue, and Lucy found herself freeing and resecuring bottle after bottle hoping to find the correct one. Finally, she noticed one labeled Dizzy Tonic, and slipped it into the pocket of her skirt.
“I see you’ve come back, and I get you all to myself.”
Lucy stiffened, and the unease Mr. Nichols inspired turned to an icy shiver up her spine.
Before she could turn, he was off his bench and behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist.
Lucy bent her elbow, shifted slightly to the left, and jabbed back as hard as she could into his abdomen. Just as her father taught her to do.
Nichols groaned and released her.
She took the opportunity to turn and balled her hand into a fist.
He’d bent slightly, holding his stomach, and then looked up at her with that smirk she’d seen earlier. Not concealed now, it was broad and as ugly as the man’s intentions.
“I like a spitfire.” He straightened and wiped a hand across his mouth, assessing her as he had earlier, starting at the edge of her skirt and letting his gaze travel upward.
Lucy held her breath and shifted her feet, ready to run for the door as soon as he moved far enough away from it. She stepped back toward the corner of the carriage, drawing him closer.
