“Your attempts will be utterly futile.”
“Isn’t that for me to decide?” In his mind, he’d already decided. Any time spent with this far too pretty and prickly lady would not be a waste. In fact, this train trip, which he’d dreaded since his decision to travel to Scotland, might have left him with nothing but time to replay his own failures, or recall the last time he’d traveled north on a train.
Meeting her had changed all that. He’d enjoyed every moment in her company and was especially glad he’d gotten her away from Nichols.
When he began to roll down his sleeves, he felt her gaze tracking his movements and looked up to find the loveliest pink blush cresting her cheeks.
She leaned forward to tidy the items he’d used to clean her wounds, arranging the bowl on the tray, folding the cloth, and setting the block of soap on top.
“I should return these.”
“Allow me.” He leaned forward to take them from her hands.
She swung them away, out of his reach. “I don’t need to be coddled, Mr. Pembroke.”
“Forgive me, Miss Westmont.” James raised his hands in surrender. She seemed more defensive the longer they were in each other’s company. Almost as if she felt she had something to prove. Perhaps her father’s doubts about her independence rankled. “Please don’t think I underestimate you.”
She looked at him then, taking him in, allowing her gaze to rove boldly. If the places where herperusal lingered were any indication, she was fond of his eyes, his shoulders, and his mouth.
He smiled. Not to fluster her—though it was clear he did—or even to seduce her. He smiled to show her that he knew the turn of her thoughts and welcomed them.
“You’re a scoundrel.” She breathed the words so softly he wouldn’t have heard them if she’d been any further away. But she was close. Achingly so. Her scent enveloped him, and her breath warmed his face.
“You know, I’ve never thought of myself as one, but I rather like that word on your gorgeous lips.”
Hewasa scoundrel. A man so handsome and so at ease in his masculine beauty couldn’t be anything but.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Lucy swallowed hard, clutched the bowl and cleaning items to her chest, and made her way out of the Number One train car.
She moved down the corridor quickly, sloshing a bit of water, and stopped at the connection between his carriage and the next.
Closing her eyes, she drew in deep breaths until her heartbeat settled into something closer to a normal pace.
Good grief, that man.James Pembroke. No one had ever been able to fluster her as easily as Mr. James Pembroke. He was mercurial. At once cockyand then suddenly kind. She was able to read most people, understand them. She listened, paid attention, and discerned how best to approach them. It was a set of skills she’d learned from her diplomat father. But Mr. Pembroke confounded her.
She found a train attendant just inside the dining car who took the cleaning items from her with a nod. “Shall I find you a table, miss?”
“No, thank you.” She had no desire to eat. The business with Nichols had rattled her nerves and soured her stomach, and Mr. Pembroke had made it flip-flop more times than she cared to admit.
“There she is!” Maribel pointed at Lucy, causing Jane to turn her head and then rise from her chair.
Jane waved her over, and Lucy approached the sisters, praying her cheeks weren’t flushed and that her expression gave nothing away.
“We were just considering whether to return and find you. I was a bit worried about the gentleman who took charge of you.”
Took charge ofmade Lucy bristle, but she knew Miss Wilson meant nothing by it.
“Is he a safe sort?” the younger Miss Wilson asked warily. “Jane says he’s quite handsome.”
“Handsome does not a good man make,” Jane proclaimed authoritatively. “I would hope most ladies know that.” She shot Lucy a piercing look.
“I do know that.” Lucy wasn’t sure she’d ever heard that precise maxim, but her distrust of handsome men was learned from three Seasons of watching the most appealing lordlings toy withladies’ affections as if they were master puppeteers.
She couldn’t explain why she trusted Mr. Pembroke, even now when it was clear he took pleasure in teasing her.
“Will you join us?”
Lucy nodded. “I will, but I also want to invite you to move to Mr. Pembroke’s carriage when you’ve finished your lunch.”
