She followed him into the passageway, closing the door behind her and leaving her father staring at the paintings.
“Luc?” she asked in a soft voice. “What my father said . . .”
He sighed, glancing to where the conductor sat in his chair at the end of the car.
The man stepped discreetly to the side, looking through the window—even though there was nothing to be seen in the darkness—giving them privacy. Luc’s eyes pinched as if he were nervous. “I’d prepared a speech, but it seems silly now.”
She smiled, feeling sorry for his embarrassment. “Did it involve raising goats and picnics at the lily pond?”
He held up a finger. “No, but I should remember that for next time.” The teasing smile dropped away, replaced by an earnestness she’d never seen in his expression before. “Juliette, I know Provence isn’t Paris. It does not have all the fine things you are accustomed to. We are simple people with simple lives. Would . . . could you ever be happy there?”
“With you?” Julia slipped her arms around his shoulders.
“With me.” Luc put his hands on her waist. He was still, waiting for her answer.
“Luc.” Tears filled Julia’s eyes, and her heart felt like it would burst. “I would be happy wherever you are. But Provence . . . it has a way of stealing one’s heart, doesn’t it?”
He smiled, leaning close until his lips just brushed hers. “Just as you’ve stolen mine.”
About the Author
Jennifer Moore lives with one husband and four sons, who produce heaps of laundry and laughter. She earned a BA from the University of Utah in linguistics, which she uses mostly for answering Jeopardy questions. A reader of history and romance, she loves traveling, tall ships, scented candles, and watching cake-decorating videos. When she’s not driving carpool, writing, or helping with homework, she’ll usually be found playing tennis. Learn more at authorjmoore.com and on Jennifer’s social media.
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Enjoy this sneak peek of Heather B. Moore’s Romance on the Orient Express book, coming April 2021:
Summer 1900
Ever since Gigi was old enough to know her name, she’d realized life wasn’t fair. And she realized that her aunt, Rowena Georgina Ballard, always got her wish. But didn’t Gigi’s sixty-five-year-old aunt deserve to have her way when she’d seen a thing or two in life, had her own money to spend, and was in fair health?
Except when the wish interfered with Gigi’s life. Rowena Georgina Ballard II’s life, that was.
Yes, typically, sons were named after their fathers, and daughters might have a middle name after a mother or aunt or grandmother. But an entire name? Warranting a number after it?
Such was the fate of Gigi.
The second.
“Gigi!” her mother hollered from the bottom of the stairs of their London townhome. “Aunt Rowena will be here within the hour, and you’ve still to practice the sonata she wants to hear you play tonight.”
“I’m on my way, Mother,” Gigi called.
Gigi hid her sigh because her dear mother had the ears of a basset hound. If there was one thing the Ballard family did not do, it was disrespect the woman who held the purse strings for all of them. Since Father’s death two years before, they’d been forced to sell their home, pay off debts, and move into this London town house owned by Aunt Rowena.
“You’d better go,” Gigi’s sister, Lillian, drawled from across the corridor, where her bedroom door was partly open.
Lillian Rose Ballard had a name not handed down from anyone in the family—a name to call her own.
She was also engaged to be married in three months’ time to the esteemed Bart Anderson, who worked at a prestigious bank. This meant that Gigi was officially the least accomplished out of the entire Ballard clan. The age of twenty-four was almost unheard of to be single. A few decades ago, she would have been dubbed a spinster. In the year 1900, she had a little more leeway. But not much.
Lillian’s recent engagement hadn’t helped curb their mother’s apprehension over her oldest daughter’s fate.
But Gigi was completely content in her role as a part-time dressmaker. Her mother wouldn’t let her work more than a few hours a day since she believed Gigi needed to be well rested for any social events. That included perfecting her piano playing so that her mother could demand a performance anytime they were in mixed company.
With another sigh, Gigi rose from her writing desk, where she’d been stitching piping on a sleeve. She wanted to present her design idea to Mrs. Stanton, the woman who ran the dress shop. Adding unique touches to clothing was something Gigi enjoyed doing; she just had to convince Mrs. Stanton of the value.
Walking into the corridor, she was surprised to see how advanced the day had become. The afternoon sun bathed the front entryway in gold and orange. No wonder her mother was on edge. She hurried down the stairs, then entered the drawing room where the piano sat. Once she settled onto the bench, smoothed out her full skirt, and adjusted her shirtwaist, she placed her hands on the ivory keys.
The notes of the sonata were light, and after a few times through, Gigi felt comfortable enough with it to please her mother. Aunt Rowena was a tad harder to please, and Gigi would not be spared any criticism from that corner.
Gigi was still practicing when the front knocker sounded. She paused as she listened for the butler’s shuffling steps. Mr. Carson should have long since retired, but Aunt Rowena was paying his salary, so no one in the town house had a say in his employment.
The knocking sounded a second time before Carson reached the door and opened it.
The familiar murmured voices told Gigi that her aunt had arrived.
After only a handful of moments, Aunt Rowena swept into the drawing room wearing a wide hat topped with artificial flowers and feathers. The plum color of her dress matched the plum-dyed feathers on her hat, and her silver-threaded hair was done up in an elaborate pompadour. Her walking stick completed her bold outfit.
“There you are, Georgina,” Aunt Rowena said. “You will not believe what I’ve come across. We must speak to your mother at once.”
Gigi had no chance to reply because her mother appeared at that very moment.
“Rowena, how lovely that you’re early.”
“Ah, pish.” Aunt Rowena waved a gloved hand before she took a seat on a wing-backed chair that had seen better days. “Hester, I’ve news to share.” She opened her handbag and pulled out a brochure.
Gigi leaned forward as Aunt Rowena used some ceremony to open the brochure. She cleared her throat and began to read:
“Join Professor Clyde Haskins on the Orient Express for a tour of a lifetime. We will begin at the Exposition Universelle in Paris and spend a delightful day visiting the international art exhibition as special guests of Colonel Weston, the Commissaire Expert des Beaux-Arts. At each major stop along the journey, we will visit world-renowned museums, from the Louvre Museum in Paris all the way to the Hagia Sophia Museum in Constantinople. We will depart from the most important cities after spending a day or two in each splendid location. On the return trip, we will remain on the Orient Express. Once we arrive in Paris, we’ll spend another three days exploring the Exposition.”
Gigi’s mother looked duly impressed. Gigi, on the other hand, couldn’t help but think of all the time and money this type of tour would take. Only the very wealthy could afford it. Someone like Aunt Rowena, to be sure, and those people who drove around in those shiny automobiles. What were they called? The carriage of the future?
“How fascinating,” her mother murmured when Aunt Rowena had finished reading the brochure in its entirety, including the amenities on the Orient Express, such as world-renowned chefs and private berths in first class.
Aunt Rowena folded the brochure and, with a triumphant smile, said
, “The members of my whist club are all going, save for Agnes, so we need a fourth player. And I have already booked passage. We leave next week.”
“We?” her mother echoed.
“I’ll need a companion, Hester,” Aunt Rowena said. “Although I will be with my two friends, we are all older women. So we will need a younger person with us to fetch and carry our belongings if needed. Bring Lillian in, and we can begin to make plans.”
“Lillian?” Mother asked. “She’s planning a wedding, and this tour is an entire month long. There is no way that she—”
“Georgina, then.” Aunt Rowena’s light-blue eyes landed on Gigi.
Gigi straightened in surprise. “Me?”
Aunt Rowena waved a hand. “Yes, you. I don’t expect you to appreciate this as much as Lillian would since you’re always bent over a piece of lace or sagging hem, but I can’t very well travel without a companion. What if there are unscrupulous men on this tour who wish to take advantage of a wealthy widow?”
“Unscrupulous men on an art museum tour?”
Aunt Rowena’s wrinkles congregated into a frown. “Are you a parrot? I’ll have you know that I’m quite the catch.”
Gigi wouldn’t laugh, not now. No, that would take place in her bedroom later. But now that she thought about it, there were probably plenty of older gentlemen who wouldn’t mind being married to a wealthy woman no matter her personality.
Besides, Gigi wasn’t one to judge. She had youth on her side, and she’d had not one offer. Not even Jimmy Dorsal. Everyone had thought he was sweet on her—but then he’d gone ahead and proposed to Mary Wright. It was all very well. Gigi hadn’t been truly in love. More hopeful, she decided. That’s why she’d been disappointed. If she’d been in love with Jimmy Dorsal, she would have been devastated.
Nearly a year had passed since then, and she could barely remember the wave of his dark hair, the amused gleam in his crystal-blue eyes, the quirk of his mouth when he listened to one of her shop stories, and how when they danced, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the room . . .
And more recently, she’d had three different men pay attention to her, sending flowers, asking her on walks or rides, but then something would happen. Something that Gigi didn’t understand. Each one had gone completely silent. First there was Richard Turley, a talented musician. Then there was Phillip Brandon, a banker. Yes, he was ten years older, but they had seemed to be a good match. Until they weren’t.
Finally, there was Reggie Mann, who worked with his father at their general store. Gigi had liked him well enough, and she was just beginning to think he might propose when he’d sent a note around, apologizing profusely.
Dear Miss Ballard,
I have enjoyed our acquaintance as of late. I must offer my most sincere apologies because I will have to break our upcoming plans. In addition, I will not be calling upon you again.
My sincere wishes for your happiness,
Reggie Mann
“You are a catch for any distinguished gentleman,” her mother soothed, patting Aunt Rowena’s arm. “And Gigi would love to go with you.”
Gigi frowned. Was this not her decision? Apparently not, because her mother and aunt had now moved on to discussing what needed to be prepared, purchased, and packed. Two weeks. They were leaving in two weeks.
“What about my job?” Gigi blurted. “I can’t leave Mrs. Stanton in a bind.”
Both women on the other side of the room stopped talking and looked at her as if she’d just declared that she’d turned into a horse.
Aunt Rowena’s mouth twitched. “You cannot be serious, Georgina. This is the trip of a lifetime. Mrs. Stanton can survive among her fripperies and feathers without your help, I daresay. Isn’t that right, Hester?”
Gigi’s mother’s face flushed, but she rushed to assure Aunt Rowena that she was indeed right.
Gigi’s heart sank. Aunt Rowena always got her way. Twenty minutes ago, Gigi’s life had been predictable and plain, just how she liked it. Now she’d be living in close quarters with her aunt and her aunt’s whist club on a train. Well, them and unscrupulous older men.
Other Books by Jennifer Moore
Regency Romance
Becoming Lady Lockwood
Emma’s Campaign
Miss Burton Unmasks a Prince
Simply Anna
Lady Helen Finds Her Song
A Place for Miss Snow
Miss Whitaker Opens Her Heart
Miss Leslie’s Secret
The War of 1812
My Dearest Enemy
The Shipbuilder’s Wife
Charlotte’s Promise
The Blue Orchid Society
Emmeline
Solving Sophronia
Other Books In The Romance On The Orient Express Series
It Started in Budapest by Julie Daines
Wrong Train to Paris by Jennifer Moore
Until Vienna by Heather B. Moore (coming April 2021)
Song of Salzburg by Jen Geigle Johnson (coming August 2021)
Stand-Alone Novellas
“Let Nothing You Dismay” in Christmas Grace
“Love and Joy Come to You” in A Christmas Courting
Wrong Train to Paris Page 17