“Business takes me to Scotland,” he said evenly. His tone seemed meant to dissuade further inquiry.
But Lucy was nothing if not curious. Especially about him.
“So, you’re a businessman?”
He nodded but didn’t look her way. Suddenly, the passing landscape—too dark for him to see at night—fascinated him. While he watched, he pulled at the tie that lay loose around his neck and wrapped the fabric into a ball in his hand, as if anxiety plagued him.
“What sort of business?” Lucy ignored every sign James Pembroke gave to indicate that he didn’t wish to be prodded for personal details.
Such a curious man.
In her experience, gentlemen were quite pleased to speak about their accomplishments, sometimes to a yawn-inducing degree.
Whenever she was anxious, talking tended to ease her mind. Even if the topic was inane. The mere diversion of conversation could work wonders.
She nibbled at her lip, wondering what she might say that could put James Pembroke at ease.
“Will it be a long stay in Scotland for you?” She flicked her gaze above his head. He carried no overstuffed valise as she did, though he might have given the porter two trunks to stow for all she knew.
“Not if I can help it.” He loosed one of his charming grins, like an arrow that shot straight and swift, disarming her completely.
Lucy swallowed hard and told her brain to generate a witty reply. None came.
He turned back to the window, a hint of a smile still curving his lips. As if he was satisfied that hisdevastating grin had the desired effect of making her tongue-tied.
“Keep your secrets if you like, Mr. Pembroke,” Lucy said in a tone meant to indicate she did not care a whit, though it emerged with all the irritation she felt.
Lucy paused and studied him as she would some perplexing gentleman across the length of a ballroom. There was tension in his jaw and lines of worry creased his forehead. She could see it. He wasn’t at ease in the way he’d been when they were alone.
Perhaps it was the sisters’ presence that had cooled the rapport between them. Or perhaps he’d never been as intrigued with her as he’d seemed. If three Seasons had taught her anything, it was that affections were changeable.
After a few minutes of silence, he said quietly, “I’m afraid I’m not fond of train travel.”
“Why is that?”
He drew in a deep breath. “An... incident from when I was a child. Nothing I wish to discuss.”
“I see.” She wanted him to tell her more, but would he?
They were strangers after all. Strangers who would part soon.
Much as she expected, he fell silent but continued to twist the fabric of his tie between his hands.
“My father is the Earl of Hallston.” She wasn’t certain why she blurted the confession. Perhaps the hope that if she answered the question she’d avoided a while back, he might say more too.
It worked, at least to get his attention. He tipped his head. “I’ve heard of your father. He’s known as a philanthropist.”
“Oh yes, Papa is always looking for ways to help others.”
He shifted on his bench, finally letting the balled fabric of his necktie lie loose on his thigh. “I know you’re afraid of him learning what happened with Nichols—”
“It’s more that I don’t wish for him to know I encountered the very sort of danger he feared the moment I stepped onto the train. I don’t wish to disappoint him more than I already have.”
“I can’t imagine you being a disappointment.”
Lucy blinked as the heat of a blush warmed her cheeks. “That’s very kind to say.” So kind it made her suddenly embarrassed, not sure where to look or what to do with her hands. “I failed for three Seasons, you see.”
“Failed?” He squared his gaze on her, more intensely than before. Brows drawn into deep furrows, he stared, almost as if he was seeing her for the first time. “How did you fail?”
