“Everyone has fears. The secret is not to let them take hold.”
And she’d done that with trains, allowed them to sink their claws into her, terrorize her with their noise, their speed, their ability to destroy lives in mere seconds.
He leaned toward her, still not touching the blanket, still revealing his respect for their boundaries, acknowledging she had not moved into his world. Yet she suddenly found she longed to. “Conquer your fear of trains,” he urged quietly, almost desperately. “When you subdue your anxieties, nothing, no one, will have the power to hold you back.”
She had the sense he was referring to something else entirely, something that would lead to her standing before a rippling pond with a man’s arm around her. She nodded, thought better of it. “The servants would be tagging along.”
“They’re welcome to. I’m certain Fancy can use the extra help with the orphans.”
His words confirmed that this wasn’t an opportunity for him to get her alone, even if she halfway wished it was. “I look forward to it.”
Lounging in his mother’s parlor while she prepared dinner, he contemplated his visit with Aslyn earlier. He was not one for creating fairy tales, for waxing on poetically about love or happily-ever-afters, so he had no inkling where his fantastical story about the parasol-less couple had come from or what had spurred him to spout such drivel when he was a man dedicated to accepting the harshness of reality. Yet sitting there on the grassy knoll with her had apparently served to seize his common sense.
Hence the sickening spouting.
Then she had smiled, sweetly, softly and a bit crookedly, and he’d been glad for the trite tale he’d woven for her, had wished his imagination were such that he could have woven another. Instead, he’d come up with fanciful plans for the morrow to explain his reason for seeking her out at the park—when his true reason had been that he’d simply needed to see her again, inhale her fragrance of gardenia.
The fact that he’d considered it a loss when his own bath had removed her scent from his skin irritated him. He’d very nearly gone into mourning when he’d realized her fragrance had not lingered in his carriage as he’d assumed it would. He’d come close to dismissing his coachman for opening the door in order to air out the conveyance. It hadn’t needed airing out. It had carried the fragrance of gardenias, a flower that Tittlefitz was having a devil of a time finding.
“How many orphans were you thinking?” Fancy asked him now, studying him as though he’d asked her to fly to the moon.
He shrugged. “Half a dozen or so. Young enough that they won’t be rebellious, striking out on their own. We want them sticking close. I have no plans to go chasing after any of them as I did the last time we took some to the seaside.” He’d be otherwise occupied this time.
“The difficulty will be deciding who to bring on such short notice. Rather bad planning that.”
“Surely there are some who should be rewarded for good behavior.”
“I suppose. I’ll talk with the matron.”
“Good.” He started to rise—
“And Lady Aslyn is joining us.” Unnecessarily repeating words he’d used only a few minutes earlier, she informed him with her tone that she was stepping onto a path of inquiry.
He settled back down. “Yes. However, should she ask, it was your idea to invite her.”
“Odd how I keep finding my way into your little scheme.” She gave him a pointed look.
“Consider your involvement an inducement toward my giving you a damned bookshop.”
Releasing the tiniest of squeals, she clapped. “So it is going to happen?”
He shrugged. “I don’t see the harm in it.”
Earnestly she leaned forward, whispering low, so their mum would not hear, “Have you lured Lady Aslyn away from her earl?”
He had. Partially if not completely. Temporarily if not permanently. It was what he’d wanted, and yet he took no satisfaction in it. Odd that. He should have felt triumphant. Instead, he felt as though her sadness had traveled like wispy smoke from her to him and settled beneath his skin, taking up residence near his beating heart. He didn’t want her sad. He simply wanted her.
Not because of how possessing her would destroy Kipwick or Hedley. But how it would serve to make him whole. Until he’d kissed her, he hadn’t realized something in him was missing. It unnerved him, but he wanted a day with her, a day without shadows, with sunlight and salt air. He wanted time with her when he wasn’t thinking of retribution and she wasn’t thinking of her future with Kipwick.
But he wasn’t going to explain all that to his sister. For some reason, telling her anything at all about what he’d learned at the park seemed a betrayal to Aslyn. She’d trusted him, shared a burden she carried that he didn’t think she’d confessed to anyone else. “Don’t bring him up tomorrow.”
She nodded. “I suppose the children and I are just a prop to give an innocence to the foray to the seaside just as I was a prop that night at Cremorne. I probably shouldn’t agree to this.”
“There is nothing sinister in the outing. She needs a distraction. I’m providing it.”
“I think you’ve come to truly care for her.”
Another thing he wouldn’t admit as it would make him vulnerable. “Put your romantic notions aside. All I want is a pleasant day.” And to ensure one for Aslyn. He wanted her to have no regrets when she completely broke off ties with Kipwick. The man was destined for ruin, and Mick intended to ensure the earl didn’t ruin her, destroy her innocence, in the process.
Odd to realize that he was now striving to protect her from what he’d intended for her in the beginning. Finding himself even more desperate for Hedley’s acknowledgment, for it was his only hope to have any sort of lasting relationship with Aslyn.
Chapter 14
As Aslyn stood on the Brighton Railway platform, she could hardly breathe as the behemoth of a train loomed before her. Smoke billowed, burning coal scented the air. People scurried about, and she would soon join them in the scurrying, but for now she stood as near to the edge of the platform as she could without falling off, so she could make a hasty retreat if she changed her mind.
Mick had told her where to wait, had assured her he would come for her. She halfway wished he wouldn’t keep that promise, prayed that he would. She wanted to be the brave sort he believed her to be.
She’d lied to the duchess and the duke, and sworn the servants who accompanied her to secrecy. She’d done it all with a straight face and an air of confidence. Her guardians didn’t question that she was spending the day with Ladies Katharine and Catherine—the Cats she’d teasingly told them was how she referred to the dear friends—touring museums when she had no dear friends Katherine or Catherine or Cats. Much easier to keep the truth of a lie if there was no one to accidentally dispute it. Although ladies did call on Aslyn, the duchess seldom intruded on the visits because she had no interest in the gossip since she didn’t involve herself much in Society and never entertained.
If her guardians were more open-minded, if she hadn’t been able to envision a row where they forbid her to spend time in the company of Mick Trewlove because of his unfortunate and unfair start in life, she’d have told them the truth. The one thing she’d not needed to lie about was her excitement about the adventure—not the riding the railway part, which still terrified her, but the opportunity to spend more time in the company of a man who actually carried on conversations with her. Who asked questions of her, listened to her answers. She doubted Kip even knew she was terrified of trains. He certainly didn’t know how she moaned when a man’s mouth urged hers to open or his hands spanned her waist and his fingers dug into her hips, holding her near.
And he was certainly unaware that gladness swept through her and warmed her cheeks whenever she caught sight of Mick Trewlove striding toward her. He cut a swath through the bustling cro
wd that bumped and jostled mere mortals, but then he always gave the impression that he existed on a separate plane from everyone else. Silly of her to give him powers he certainly didn’t possess—powers she’d convinced herself would allow him to keep the train safe.
As he neared, she saw the pleasure in his eyes that her presence brought him. She had no plans to spend the day comparing Kip to him, but the earl had never gazed on her as though she were the only thing that mattered in his life. Mick’s regard was at once humbling and terrifying in its intensity.
“Lady Aslyn,” he said politely, a perfect gentleman.
“Mr. Trewlove. My servants, Nan and Mary, Thomas and John.”
Slipping a hand into a pocket inside his jacket, he slid his gaze past her to the brigade forming a protective half circle behind her. She feared they might be most troublesome and ruin her day. “Gents.” He held up a small packet, extended it to Thomas. “You have the day to do as you will. There’s enough blunt in there to see that you both, along with the coachman and tiger, can go exploring the pubs or do anything else you care to—just don’t return to Hedley Hall. Be here at seven for her ladyship.”
“We can’t leave her in your company,” Thomas said loyally.
“Her maids will be adequate chaperones as will the dozen urchins we’re taking to the seaside.”
“Dozen?” John repeated.
“Aye. Oldest is six, youngest four, I believe. Quite the handful, the lot of them. We certainly welcome you helping us care for them—”
“I’d rather have a pint,” John interrupted.
“I thought you might.”
“My lady?” Thomas began.
“You should take the day to enjoy yourselves,” she assured him. “I’ll be perfectly fine with Nan and Mary to see after my needs.”
“Very good.”
The footmen wandered away, and she breathed a little easier, not certain why she was relieved to have fewer witnesses to her day’s adventures. Perhaps because she feared she might embarrass herself with her cowardice once she was actually aboard the train and rattling along the tracks.
“If you’ll come with me, ladies,” Mick said.
He didn’t offer her his arm, and she realized that in public, away from his hotel, he was as aware of the social divide between them as she was. It was possible, but very unlikely, she’d run into someone she knew at this terminus. If those with whom she associated were going to the seaside for the day, they’d no doubt take a coach. “We’ve yet to purchase passage.”
“It’s been taken care of,” he told her. “I see you brought your parasol.”
“I might wish to communicate with you.”
“You have merely to voice what you want, and it shall be granted.” His sensual smile indicated she could ask for anything at all.
“Right, then.”
She walked beside him, with her maids trailing, toward the rear of the train, to a car where small faces peered out through the glass window. She recognized the smartly dressed servant opening the door. It seemed his duties extended beyond that of porter at the hotel. “Good morning, Mr. Jones.”
With a smile of pleasure, he tipped his head. “It’s simply Jones, Miss.”
Forcing herself to stride in as though she’d traveled in this manner a dozen times before, she was surprised to discover it appeared to be a private car. Small sofas sat before the windows on either side of the car. A much larger one, which she didn’t want to consider could also serve as a place to sleep—or make love—dominated the center of the room.
“Lady Aslyn!” Fancy said, holding a little girl sucking her thumb in her lap. “I’m so glad you could join us on our outing. Children, say hello to Lady Aslyn.”
A chorus of “Hello, Lady Aslyn!” rose from the dozen claimed urchins who actually numbered half that amount.
“You seem to be missing some children,” she said to Mick, as he followed her maids inside.
He didn’t even have the good graces to appear abashed. “Counting never was my strong suit.”
A lie if she’d ever heard one. To have the success he did, he no doubt excelled at counting.
“It will help to keep the little ones calm if your maids will each see to two of them,” he said. “You and I can sit over here.” With a bow of his head, he indicated a sofa at an opposite window.
While giving instructions to her servants to assist Miss Trewlove, she considered helping out as well, but she didn’t think it would calm any of the children to become aware of her trembling. Sitting on the small settee he’d indicated, she clutched her hands together and gazed out, giving a little start when the whistle blew.
“That’s a signal we’ll be leaving shortly,” Mick said, as he dropped down beside her.
The door opened and Jones strode in, immediately scooping down and lifting a towheaded boy into his arms.
“Are these outings to the seaside a common occurrence?” she asked Mick.
She nearly protested when he went to work unknotting her fingers. “They are. We have a home for society’s discards.”
“They’re not legitimate,” she whispered.
He didn’t take his gaze off the task of removing her glove. “No.”
“How do you find them?”
He scoffed. “There are thousands of them, tens of thousands, in London alone. Parliament enacted legislation that made women ultimately responsible for their children born out of wedlock, thinking it would give them incentive to keep their legs crossed, but when there’s an itch—” he did look up then, holding her gaze “—one hardly thinks of the future, merely the need to scratch.”
Before meeting him, she hadn’t known those itches existed. She certainly knew now, realized if she were smart, she would exit the conveyance. But her curiosity kept her pinned to the spot. “You said we. ‘We have a home.’ ”
“People still bring the unwanted to Ettie Trewlove’s door. My siblings and I lease a residence and hire a staff to see to their needs. Our mum spends a lot of time there, caring for the small ones, but they are no longer her responsibility.”
Slowly he tugged off her glove, intertwined their fingers, securely, comfortingly. The back of the sofa prevented the servants or anyone else from seeing what he’d done, to see her hand closing more tightly around his. The train lurched. She squeezed her eyes shut, but still she could feel the rocking. “Keep talking.”
“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle but firm, tinged with a bit of sadness, the endearment making his urging all the more profound. She considered chastising him for the intimacy, but convinced herself he meant nothing by it. For him, it was no doubt simply a word. Besides, she liked the comfort it brought her, wondered if he could sense the pounding of her heart. Even if the train didn’t wreck, she might die—with his large, warm, roughened hand cradling hers.
Licking her lips, gathering her resolve, she opened her eyes, met his.
“There’s not going to be a wreck, we’re not going to die.”
All the duchess’s warnings about the need to be careful, the necessity of never taking a risk, bombarded her. “You don’t know that.”
“I know there’s no benefit to expecting the worst.” He nodded toward the side. “Look what you’re missing.”
She glanced to the window where the scenery formed a changing panorama of buildings and trees and people and roads. “It’s like being in a carriage.”
“Except there are no horses to grow weary.”
Glancing down, she saw that her knuckles had gone white. Little wonder her hand was beginning to ache. “I must be hurting you.”
“I’m not so delicate as all that.”
He wasn’t delicate at all. He was all strength, determination and courage. “Do you fear nothing?”
“We all fear something.”
His words made
her feel slightly better, not quite as timid. “We’re traveling at a good clip.”
“We’ll be at the seaside before you know it.”
The journey had been at once satisfying and torturous. Because she was so near, because he could not have her. Because he had to give the impression that he wasn’t aware of every breath she drew, that he didn’t think a thousand times about leaning in and taking possession of her sweet mouth, that helping her relax into the motion of the train didn’t make him want to see her settling into the motion of lovemaking. That her gardenia scent surrounding him didn’t give him hope that when all was said and done, she wouldn’t hate him.
She overwhelmed him in ways he’d never been, so he’d nearly burst out of the compartment when the train finally reached its destination. The children weren’t his responsibility. He was going to pay her maids for assisting Fancy with caring for them. They walked ahead now, along the sandy shore, two urchins each, while he and Aslyn followed leisurely behind, her hand nestled in the crook of his elbow.
They were unlikely to run into anyone she knew; they weren’t limited to the shadows or the night. If he were not a realist, he would consider that they could have a future of walking in the sunshine, but the practical side of him knew that future was unlikely.
“Was the outing with the orphans an excuse to spend time with me?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She jerked her head around to look at him. Her parasol rested on her right shoulder. He wanted it closed with the handle against her lips. He arched a brow. “You didn’t expect me to answer honestly?”
Her laughter rose above the cries of the squawking gulls and the roar of the sea in constant motion. “I suppose I didn’t.”
He almost told her that he wasn’t Kipwick; he wouldn’t hide things from her. Only he was keeping secrets, and he certainly didn’t want her attention turning back toward the earl. “You’re not completely comfortable when I approach you in the park. You’re always looking to see who might have spotted me with you. I thought here you might let your guard down a bit.”
Beyond Scandal and Desire Page 18