When his woolgathering cleared, he realized the ladies were, in fact, moving toward him.
His mouth went dry, his palms warmed, and his mind scrambled for how to explain himself as he’d stood watching her—them—for far too long.
“Did you already miss me, ladies?”
“Mr. Pembroke, we meet again,” Miss Maribel Wilson said in a teasing tone. “I’m surprised, as you seemed in such a hurry to see to your business affairs.”
“Indeed I am.”
“Where do they take you?” Lady Lucy asked, coming forward to tip her head, sending the purple flowers fluttering in the breeze as she looked up at him. “Or is that one of your many secrets too?”
Her eyes were twinkling. Even after all day on a train, a vile encounter with a bounder, and her worry about not meeting her father’s expectations, she was full of life and mischief.
“I have a meeting.” James lifted his pocket watch. “Good grief, I’m late.”
He’d lost track of how long he’d stood watching her with the Wilson sisters.
“How far do you need to go?” She pointed toward the far edge of the station. “Should you hire a cab?”
“It’s not far. The Guildford Arms. Just up Princes Street on Register Place.”
“What a marvelous coincidence!” Miss Jane Wilson’s voice raised to a girlish pitch and all of them looked her way. “Why, according to this map, that’s quite close to where we’re heading for dinner at the Café Royal.” She came forward and scooped her sister’s arm into hers. “Shall we make the journey together?”
Without waiting for any reply, Miss Wilson strode off at a brisk clip, her more diminutive sister nearly hopping to keep up.
Lady Lucy lingered at his side.
“Are you coming too?” James offered his arm in a gentlemanly gesture he hadn’t practiced in months.
“I’m not. My aunt’s carriage is due to collect me any moment.”
“So this is goodbye.”
“Again,” she said with a smile.
Hell and brimstone, he was acting like a besotted fool.
“I wish you well, Lady Lucy Westmont. Again.”
“The well-wishes are returned, Mr. Pembroke, for whatever mysterious business you’ve come to Scotland to conduct.”
It was James’s turn to chuckle. He appreciated her curiosity and almost wished he was as mysterious a man as she teased him about being.
She began to turn away and something pinched in the vicinity of his top waistcoat button—a sense of disappointment that felt ridiculously sharp for the brevity of their acquaintance.
“You’ll return to London afterward, I take it?” In that moment, he wanted to promise things. To call on her when he returned. But he wasn’t even certain when he would return, and he wouldn’t dare make promises that he couldn’t keep. Even after a day of knowing her, he knew Lady Lucy Westmont deserved better than that.
“That is the hope.”
Somewhere in the distance, a clock’s bell tower rang the top of the hour.
“I must be off.”
“Of course. Don’t let me keep you.”
“You’ll be all right?”
“I have sharp elbows, Mr. Pembroke. I’ll be fine.”
