“He is a bit of a popinjay, isn’t he,” Lenore said, lowering her shaded glasses enough to glance over them at Lionel’s retreating form.
Phin laughed and reached to take Lenore’s suitcase from her. “He likes to think so.”
As soon as they joined the queue of travelers and bought their tickets, then headed to the platform to catch the train to York, their moods sobered.
“I only hope that leaving London will put Bart off the scent,” Lenore sighed as they found the first-class compartment Phin had booked—in spite of it being just out of his price range—so that the two of them could make the journey unobserved. “I pray that he gives up and goes home.”
“Do you think he’s likely to?” Phin asked, storing both of their suitcases in the racks above the seats as Lenore flopped into hers.
“No,” she lamented, unwinding the scarf from her neck. “Not if he came all the way to England in search of me.”
“I agree that making such a journey seems—”
Phin’s words were cut short as the train jolted unexpectedly, causing him to fumble Lenore’s suitcase. It fell from his hands and landed awkwardly on the floor. As a result, it popped open, spilling some of the contents, including a few unmentionables that had Phin grinning.
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, crouching to gather a handful of Lenore’s knickers to shove back into the suitcase. “How clumsy of me.”
Lenore leaned over with a sigh, sending him a wry look, as though he’d intended to drop the case just so he could handle her underthings. “I would tell you to stop looking at my unmentionables, but we both know you’ve seen more than this.” She batted his hands away and shifted the suitcase closer to her, opening it all the way.
Phin rocked back, laughing. “I dare say I’ll see far more than this as often as I’d like going forward,” he said.
Lenore shook out a chemise that had spilled out of the case and folded it before resting it on top of a large, flat box, the sort that contained valuable documents. “And just what is that supposed to imply, Mr. Mercer?” She arched a saucy eyebrow at him.
Phin tilted his head casually to the side as he pushed himself up and sat on the seat facing hers. “Only that once we’re married, I plan to indulge in watching your morning boudoir on a daily basis.”
Lenore’s hands froze in the middle of folding a pair of drawers, and if Phin wasn’t mistaken, some of the color drained from her face. It was not the reaction he’d hoped his comment would have. She cleared her throat, donned a grin that felt a bit forced to him, and finished repacking her suitcase. As she closed the lid, she glanced slowly up at him. “And what makes you think I have any plans to marry you?”
Phin did not expect her statement to hit him like a fist in the gut. Lenore not marrying him was out of the question. He fought to keep his expression casual and rakish as he bent to pick up her suitcase, standing to slide it into the rack alongside his.
“Of course, you’re going to marry me,” he said, sending her a teasing look over his shoulder. “Unless you’re the sort of woman who mercilessly sleeps with a man, getting his hopes up, only to discard him like so much rubbish the next day.”
She watched him with far more intensity in her eyes than her careless expression conveyed until he was seated again and his arms were crossed. “The fact is, Mr. Mercer—”
“Phineas,” he reminded her in a stern voice, needing her to call him by his given name now more than ever.
“—that you don’t truly know what kind of a woman I am,” she finished, then sent him a challenging look.
He was tempted to admit that she was right. Up until a few hours ago, he never would have expected that she was the sort of woman who needed to run and hide from a vicious murderer.
“I know that you are the kind of woman who doesn’t flinch at having her ankles up around my shoulders,” he said with a heated wink.
He was rewarded by her beautiful face going bright pink. “I suspect, Mr. Mercer, that not many women would flinch at having their ankles perched on your shoulders.”
“Phineas,” he told her again. “And no, I’ve never had any complaints.”
“I thought not.”
“All aboard,” a conductor shouted on the platform beside the train.
Phin caught the last flurry of passengers rushing to make the train as the conductors and station personnel finished preparing for departure. It was a surprising relief when the train rolled forward, picking up speed as it left the station and passed rows of grubby buildings on its way out of town. He wouldn’t truly breathe a sigh of relief until the lazy, English countryside was rolling past them.
Lenore didn’t look as though she would feel relieved anytime soon. In fact, the longer Phin stared at her as the train pulled out of London, the more her expression and her mood seemed to sour.
“I wasn’t just teasing about marrying you, you know,” he said, shifting from his seat to hers, though he maintained a safe distance between the two of them.
“I didn’t think you were,” she said. Her mouth twitched as though she were attempting to smile, but the expression never quite made it to her eyes.
“I might have considered bed-sports a good bit of fun to be had without meaning or consequences in the past, Lenore, but I can assure you I don’t think of them that cavalierly now,” he said, speaking softer.
Her brow inched up. “I don’t hop into bed casually with whomever catches my fancy either,” she said. “Did you think I was that kind of woman?”
“Not at all.” He
