He loosened his hold, giving her the option to move away.
She didn’t, and James pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. A small victory, but one of the few he’d had of late. He intended to savor it.
“Your skill at fisticuffs isn’t in doubt. I’m sure the man’s nose will hurt for a while.” James resisted looking at her again as he spoke, keeping his attention on the task at hand.
He couldn’t deny the lady’s claim. This wasn’t necessary. Shewascapable of using the cloth, water, and soap he’d requested.
Still, something in him wanted to do it, needed to. He told himself it had simply been too long since he’d touched a woman. Plus, the distraction of having a task to accomplish kept him from thinking about the tragic train accident that cost him his family.
Yet, she was more than a distraction. The need to help her, touch her, had to do withthiswoman.
Maybe it was guilt for being a cad to her on the platform. The rest he couldn’t quite suss out. He only knew there was something about her—perhaps it was her very self-possessed capableness—that made him wish to be the one to offer her aid and protection.
“His chin, if you wish to be specific,” she murmured a moment later.
James quirked a brow.
“I aimed for his nose and missed,” she said ruefully. “My father always advised me to aim for the soft spots, and his jaw was not at all soft. As the backs of my fingers can attest.”
He grinned then, unable to hold it back, but she didn’t respond in kind. Just turned her head to study the passing landscape, much as she’d done since taking a seat on the bench opposite him and resting her hand against the bowl of water the porter had delivered.
But she hadn’t kept silent or still. Beyond thetrembling he occasionally felt reverberating down her arm, there was a palpable impatient energy about her. As if she longed to be up and moving.
He understood that most of all.
“I do hope Jane and Maribel don’t return to that car. Though I suppose they’ll have to in order to retrieve their bags.”
“Almost finished,” he said quietly, an attempt to reassure her but also remind himself that he shouldn’t drag this out. “I’ll go and find them and bring their belongings back here.”
Yet he held on for a moment longer, taking his time, reluctant to stop touching her. But, of course, he must. They were strangers, and she was a lady of propriety. As he suspected, she was a lady by birth according to the corner of an envelope sticking out of her valise.The Lady Lucy Westmont.
James stilled. What the hell was he doing? He avoided nobles. That was his rule. Never mind that he now was one.
Good god.There’d been so little time to let that fact sink in or consider what it meant for his future. His only goal was to liquidate the Scottish manor house he’d inherited.
But now he could foresee a future where matchmaking mamas pushed young women like Lady Lucy his way. They’d be sorely disappointed. Despite the title, and even if he could leverage the income from the sale of one property, he had nothing more to offer in terms of security than he had a week ago.
He released her hand and set the cloth aside. “Those scratches should heal soon.”
“You missed a bit just there.” She retrieved the damp cloth and swiped at her finger.
It seemed the lady didn’t appreciate help. She wanted to be the one to care for herself.
A moment later, she stunned him by tracing her fingers across the knuckles of his right hand.
“You’re injured too.” She looked at him expectantly. “Who did you punch?”
There it was. A flicker of wariness finally appeared in her guileless gaze.
“Nothing worth discussing.”
“That’s not quite fair, Mr. Pembroke. You know about my incident.”
“I do. But my secrets are my own, Lady Lucy.”
“How did you...?” Her pale brows crimped in question and perhaps a hint of concern.
James pointed at the overstuffed valise at her side. “I spied the edge of your letter.”
