Until Vienna (Romance on the Orient Express)

by Heather B. Moore

  “To remain in our bachelor-bachelorette corners despite what your aunt throws at us.”

  He was still shaking her hand slowly, and Gigi ignored the warmth of his skin against hers and how her arm had pebbled with goose pimples. “Excellent,” she said. “We must be strong, we must be brave, and we must be noble.”

  Professor Haskins’s brows quirked with merriment. “Is that our motto then?”

  “Do you have a better one?” she teased.

  “I do not,” he said. “Yours is perfect. This deserves a toast.”

  He released her hand. She reached for her teacup, then raised it to meet his coffee cup.

  Their glasses clinked, a signal to the start of the next twenty-nine days in which they’d both work to stave off her aunt’s advances.

  ChapteR FIVE

  Dear Lillian,

  We’ve officially boarded the Orient Express. Oh, what a train. I’ve seen pictures and advertisements of course, but the reality is truly amazing. The dark paneled corridors are of the finest wood. The plush carpeting is like a cloud beneath my feet. And although the sleeping quarters are small, as expected on a train, they’ve not forgotten any luxury. Beautiful velvet drapes, gilded mirrors, and brocade couch coverings. A conductor assigned to our train car who awaits to assist us with any little thing. Oh, and I must tell you about Professor Haskins. He is younger than I expected. Thirty perhaps? And his hair . . . goodness. It’s so blond that it’s nearly white. Aunt Rowena is already making mention of matchmaking. Heaven help me. Send prayers . . .

  It took three tries for Gigi to rouse her aunt. Gigi almost gave up, but then she realized her aunt would wake naturally at some point during the night and be hungry.

  “Oh goodness,” Aunt Rowena said when she was finally roused. “I feel like I’ve been trampled by one of those bay horses. Everything aches. Give me a few moments to get ready.”

  Gigi returned to the new sketch she’d started of a man’s formal suit. It wasn’t what she usually worked on, but she would also add a woman by his side. She hadn’t decided on the shape the dress would take yet.

  She looked up when Aunt Rowena drew in a sharp breath of air.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” Aunt Rowena said. “I must have slept wrong. Now, have you heard of the book Dracula? Irene was telling me that it’s deliciously creepy.”

  Gigi shook her head. She might have been more concerned with her aunt’s complaints, but with her cheerful chatter, Gigi decided it was nothing. Once Aunt Rowena had refreshed herself, they headed out of the berth and into the corridor. They bypassed the lounge car, and it took Gigi only a quick glance to determine that neither the mysterious Nicholas nor the professor was in sight.

  A uniformed conductor stood at the entrance of the dining cart. He greeted them in French, then English. When Aunt Rowena responded in English, he said, “Very well, Madame Ballard, please follow me.”

  The dining car was pristine and elegant. The dining tables seated four people each. Crisp white tablecloths were topped with fine china and crystal wine glasses. Even the cloth napkins were elegantly folded.

  When her aunt was finally ready, they joined Aunt Rowena’s whist friends at a table. Blanche was decked out in enough diamonds to rival Queen Victoria, and Irene looked as if she’d taken a long nap on one side of her hair. The flatness of one side rivaled the poof of the other side.

  They were immediately brought menus by a waiter and were asked for their drink orders. Gigi tried not to look around for Professor Haskins, but her gaze continually strayed to the entrance of the dining car as she anticipated his arrival. He was late, or maybe he wasn’t coming.

  Dinner was served like in any other fine dining restaurant, and her dinner companions oohed over the choices. Gigi ordered a chicken dish, and just as the waiter left to place their table’s orders, Professor Haskins entered the dining car.

  He was dressed as he had been during their conversation, but somehow he looked taller and more imposing. Gigi watched as he stopped at each table occupied by their tour group and exchanged pleasantries. She really shouldn’t be staring, so she tried to tune back in to what her aunt was telling the other women about what time they needed to meet for breakfast in the morning.

  “That’s too early for me,” Irene said. “When I travel, I need extra sleep.”

  “If I don’t eat by eight in the morning, I’ll earn myself a severe headache,” Blanche countered.

  And then he was there. At their table.

  “Good evening, ladies,” Professor Haskins said in his smooth tone.

  The conversation halted, and everyone looked at him.

  “What have you ordered for dinner?” he continued.

  “I’ve decided to try the pork loin,” her aunt said. Her words were soon followed by the other ladies declaring their menu choices.

  Gigi hid a smile at the enthusiastic responses of each of the ladies.

  “Georgina ordered the chicken,” Aunt Rowena announced. “She always orders chicken, even though I’ve advised her to try something new.”

  Professor Haskins’s gaze connected with hers, and she could see the amusement in his eyes.

  An unspoken understanding passed between them, and Gigi barely contained a smile.

  “I can’t abide chicken,” Blanche said. “I once saw a chicken slaughtered, and I lost my appetite.” And that redirected the conversation once again.

  Then the most curious thing happened: Professor Haskins winked at Gigi before turning his attention to Irene, who was talking about a study she’d read of how many nutrients were in chicken. Gigi felt her pulse spike, but she told herself it was nothing. She and the professor were in cahoots with each other. That was all.

  When he excused himself after a moment to speak with others in the tour, the women were so caught up in comparing recipes for raspberry trifle that they hardly noticed the professor’s absence.

  As the meal progressed, Gigi wondered if fortune had smiled upon her and her aunt had forgotten about her list.

  But her hope was soon dashed while they were waiting for dessert, and Aunt Rowena pulled out her notebook. “Now, ladies. Listen to this list and see if there is anything to add.”

  “What list is this?” Blanche asked.

  “The one about the professor,” Irene said, her brows rising above her owlish eyes.

  Gigi’s ears burned as the women at the table leaned in, their eyes locked on Aunt Rowena’s notebook.

  “Number one, is the professor attached? Married? Engaged? Widowed?”

  “He wears no ring,” Irene said.

  “That doesn’t mean a thing,” Blanche countered.

  Irene huffed. “Surely he would have spoken of his wife if he was married.”

  Gigi’s head was spinning. “He’s not married.”

  The three women all snapped their gazes to her.

  “And how do you know this?” Aunt Rowena said in a voice that was too loud to be kept private.

  Gigi winced. “We, ah, had a conversation in the lounge car while you were resting.”

  Blanche’s eyes widened. “Alone?”

  “No,” Gigi was quick to say. “We were both in the lounge car at the same time, and others were present. It was nothing. Really.” She waved a hand. “Proceed with your list.”

  Aunt Rowena was positively beaming, and she made great ceremony of returning to her list. “Number two, how financially prepared is the professor to support a wife and children?”

  Gigi pressed her lips together. She was not going to burst out that of course a university professor could support a family. She also wouldn’t add that she planned on continuing her own dressmaking career whether or not she married. That insight might add more fuel to these women’s plans.

  “Wait a minute,” Blanche said, clasping her hands atop the table. �
�What do you mean by financially prepared?”

  “Why, he should have plenty of investments,” Aunt Rowena said.

  “In gold,” Irene added, patting her hair as if that would help its disarray.

  Everyone looked at her. Aunt Rowena frowned. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Then turned back to her list. “Number three.” She held up a finger. “And listen up; this is important. The professor must be in good standing with his community and place of employment.”

  “He’s a wonderful man,” Irene said, her voice a bit dreamy. “I’ve no doubt he’s in good standing wherever he goes. You can tell by the way he walks. Very proper.”

  The conversation had started out in hushed tones, but now . . . surely others could hear them.

  Something prickled at the back of Gigi’s neck.

  She turned her head slightly, and her breath caught. He was sitting at the next table over, and even though he appeared focused on the conversation at his table, Gigi had no doubt that he’d likely heard every word. She stifled a groan. What must he think of this table of meddling women?

  Just before she turned her head back to look at her aunt, his gaze shifted. For a brief moment, their eyes connected. The edge of his mouth lifted. He had heard. Their gazes held a moment longer, and something passed between them—an understanding that this was only part of their original agreement to be good sports.

  They’d both agreed to be strong, brave, and noble. Which step was this in the process?

  She gave a nearly imperceptible nod to the man, then returned to the conversation. From her peripheral vision, she saw the smile playing on his lips, and she realized a smile was playing upon her lips as well.

  “Number four . . .” Aunt Rowena looked at Gigi expectantly.

  “Yes?” Gigi said, extremely aware that everything she said could be overheard by the professor himself.

  “This is a delicate matter,” Aunt Rowena said, “and possibly not for young ears.”

  Blanche tutted. “Should she cover her ears?”

  “Or leave the table,” Irene declared.

  “I could sing a song in her ear while you speak so she can’t hear.”

  Gigi blinked. “Perhaps it shouldn’t be on the list, then. If there is something too sensitive for me to know about a man, then perhaps it is the wrong man.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Aunt Rowena hastened to say. “It’s . . . well . . .” She cupped a hand about her mouth, and in a very quiet voice, she said, “He must be virile.”

  None of the women at the table moved or spoke. In fact, the entire dining car seemed to go silent at that moment. Or perhaps it was because Gigi suddenly couldn’t hear anything but a strange rushing sound in her ears as if she’d bent very, very close to a river.

  “That is so important,” Irene said in an equally quiet voice, her owl eyes growing, if possible, even wider.

  “You will want children,” Blanche added in an authoritative voice, touching the diamond necklace at her throat.

  “And you will want enjoyment in—”

  “Irene, hush!” Aunt Rowena hissed. “That is quite enough. We will now move on to number five.”

  Number five . . . Gigi was still trying to comprehend number four. How did her aunt plan on ascertaining all of these things about the professor, or any man, for that matter?

  There was no way Gigi could turn to look at Professor Haskins now. Not if someone offered her ten thousand pounds. But she needn’t have worried because from her peripheral vision, she saw the professor rise and hurry out of the dining car as if he were on an urgent errand. Was there an emergency?

  Then, it dawned on her. He’d been so mortified by number four that he’d rushed to pack his belongings and would get off at the next stop, never to be seen again and never to lead another tour group.

  “I must . . .” Gigi began. She couldn’t even form the words. “Excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment.”

  She had to find him, to stop him before he abandoned the group, to apologize at the very least, and to possibly disappear off the train herself. But as she hurried along the corridor into the next train car, she worried that he’d already returned to his berth, and how was she supposed to find that?

  Before she’d gone too far, a hand grabbed her arm.

  She turned with a gasp.

  “It’s only me,” Professor Haskins said, bringing a finger to his lips. His eyes gleamed with amusement, and he appeared to be holding back a laugh. “Where are you going in such a hurry? Is everything all right?”

  “I . . . I was worried that my aunt had sent you running, and so I came after you.”

  Standing this close to Professor Haskins in the narrow corridor was making her skin prickle with warmth. He smelled nice, like a woodsy soap.

  “Are you all right?” she continued because he hadn’t spoken. “I—”

  “I assure you I am fine, Miss Ballard.” His lips twitched.

  And it was like the flush of his face transferred to hers, and suddenly she was heated up. “Did you hear my aunt’s list?”

  His lips twitched again. “I did.”

  “Did you hear . . . number four?”

  His shoulders began to shake, and she realized he was silently laughing. He covered half his face with his hand, keeping his laughter quiet.

  Gigi wanted to laugh with him, but that was quite impossible because she was so mortified. “I am so sorry,” she whispered.

  Professor Haskins continued to laugh quietly, and Gigi covered her own mouth as she felt a smile coming on. She would not laugh. She would not. A small laugh escaped.

  “Don’t apologize for your aunt,” the professor said at last when he had some control again. “I have not laughed this hard in a long time or perhaps ever.” He wiped at his eyes.

  “You are not mortified?”

  “I don’t know what I am, but I can assure you this tour will not be like any other I’ve ever led.”

  “I can’t apologize enough,” Gigi said, stepping away and putting more distance between them. “I will speak to my aunt privately. She cannot carry on like this, especially when there are others who can overhear.”

  “Miss Ballard.” Professor Haskins grasped her hand, drawing her to a stop. “Please don’t be troubled over this.”

  She looked down at their hands—his were unexpectedly rough—then back into his hazel eyes that were quite dark in the dim light of the corridor gas lamps. “It’s not fair to you.”

  “I see it as a bit of entertainment,” he said. “As long as no one is hurt in the process.”

  Gigi swallowed. “No, that wouldn’t happen.”

  “Of course not.” His gaze held hers for a long moment, broken only when someone else entered the passageway.

  Professor Haskins’s hand slipped from hers, taking its warmth with him.

  “If you are sure?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  His smile appeared. “I am sure.”

  She was grateful that he was being so conciliatory, but what of the days to come? Would he tire quickly of her aunt’s persistence?

  The passenger, an older man, walked past them with a nod to each of them. After he’d moved down a ways, the professor said, “Remember, we are to be . . . what did you say?”

  “Brave, strong, and noble.”

  He tapped his temple as if committing the words to memory. “Excellent, Miss Ballard.” Then he shifted and offered his arm to her. “Shall we?”

  She looked down at his arm, then up at him. “Are you sure? If we walk in there together, my aunt will probably faint in her chair.”

  “I think we have a list to attend to.”

  The soft low tones of his voice made the pulse at the base of her neck flutter.

  “Strong, brave, noble,” he whispered.

  “Strong, brave, noble,” she repeated with
a soft laugh.

  He grinned, then stepped forward, guiding her. They entered the dining car together, and sure enough, all eyes at her aunt’s table widened as they saw Gigi walk in with the professor.

  He gallantly escorted her to the table.

  Aunt Rowena’s mouth gaped as the professor said, “Good evening, ladies. Might I join you for dessert?”

  “Of—of course,” Aunt Rowena responded.

  There was a bit of flurry as the professor added a chair to the table without waiting for the waiter’s help. When he sat, all eyes were still trained on him. “Now, Miss Ballard says that you have some questions to ask me.”

  Aunt Rowena’s face went up at least two shades in red, and her gaze cut to Gigi.

  But Gigi was speechless at his boldness herself.

  “Professor Haskins overheard part of our discussion, so I explained that we have put together a list.”

  Thankfully Aunt Rowena didn’t look upset or dismayed. She looked . . . impressed. She turned a broad smile upon Professor Haskins. “Indeed, we do.”

  ChapteR SIX

  Gigi had never witnessed an interrogation before, but she would guess it was similar to what took place over the next few minutes.

  Aunt Rowena was gracious enough to wait for the desserts to be served. And Professor Haskins’s dessert was rerouted to their table.

  “It is good of you to join us, Professor,” Aunt Rowena said after taking a delicate bite of her trifle.

  To his credit, the professor turned an inquisitive gaze upon her aunt, as if he had no idea what type of question would be thrown at him. And to Aunt Rowena’s credit, she didn’t need her list after all to ask her questions.

  “We are simply interested in learning more about you.” Aunt Rowena’s eyes had brightened, and her smile was so innocent that Gigi was almost fooled herself. “Tell us about your family, Professor. We’d love to hear about your wife and children.”

  Professor Haskins had ordered crème au caramel, and he paused before taking a bite. “I am not married, nor do I have any children.”

  “Ah,” Aunt Rowena said.