He reached for a lock of her dark hair that had come undone from its style when she removed her hat, curling it around his finger. They’d already had a harrowing day, and Phin was somewhat surprised to find that all he wanted to do was sink into the comfort of Lenore and let their troubles disappear behind them.
“Have you ever made love on a speeding train before?” he asked with a mischievous arch of one eyebrow.
“No,” she answered, crossing her arms and sending him a brutal grin in return. Her answer was not an account of her past deeds, it was a statement about his implied question.
“We’ll have to amend that one of these days,” he said, taking the hint and leaning back against the side of the seat.
“Not anytime soon,” she answered. She was coy at first, but her expression dropped to exhaustion all too soon. “Not anytime soon,” she repeated with a wistful sigh, glancing past him and out the window.
Phin would have given anything he owned and taken to highway robbery to get more for the chance to know what she was thinking. He could only imagine the strain of having a murderer on his tail. It was bad enough that he had a detective who was suspicious of his publishing activities. Murder was worse than libel, though.
“I wish you would let me in,” he spoke his thoughts aloud, figuring that was the least Lenore deserved. “I want to help you in every way I can.”
“I know you do,” she said, wincing, as though his affection for her made things worse instead of better. “I want you to be able to help me too.” But the implication was that he couldn’t.
He didn’t bother saying more. She clearly wasn’t in a mood for his prying. Phin figured the best he could do was sit there and keep his mouth shut. She would confide in him when she was ready, or so he hoped. It made sense that she would break down eventually. He wasn’t fool enough to think that opening her legs for him meant that she would open her heart as well. Lenore was no unsophisticated maiden who danced with the suitors her mother told her to and did whatever the titled husband she’d won bid her. She was a woman who knew her own mind. It was why he adored her, but it would also be the thing that drove him mad.
Mad or not, he would convince her to marry him. He was certain of it as he watched her settle into her seat and let the rocking of the train lull her into sleep. She was as beautiful asleep as she was awake and fiery. If it was the last thing he did, he would ensure that her beautiful sleeping head spent the rest of its life on the pillow next to his. Not just for the practical benefits it would bring him. If it was Freddy’s welfare she was concerned with, if that was the reason she seemed hesitant to discuss marriage, then he would make sure Freddy was secure and that he and Reese were free from suspicion too. If it was his relatively humble position in life, he would find a way to overcome that. If it was something having to do with the blackguard Swan or troubles that had followed her from home, he would find a solution to those as well. Perhaps all she needed was a grand gesture and an even grander proposal. That could easily be arranged.
The last thought that passed through his head as he, too, drifted off to sleep was that whatever it took, Lenore would be his wife by Christmas.
Chapter 9
Pretending to sleep so that Phin wouldn’t spend the journey north tempting Lenore with things she could never have turned into actual sleeping before they were half an hour outside of London. Lenore hadn’t realized how exhausted she was or how deeply seeing Bart again had taken a toll on her until she let go of the fear that Bart would suddenly appear on the train and find her. He wasn’t and he wouldn’t. At least not yet. Releasing that anxiety took every bit of the wind out of her sails, and she fell into slumber as the train rocked rhythmically on its way to Yorkshire. She always had slept like a baby on trains.
She awoke an undetermined amount of time later to find that at least half of her problems were still staring her in the eyes. Quite literally, as it turned out. Phineas sat on the seat across from her, wedged against the side of their compartment in a way that suggested he, too, had been trying to sleep but had opted for watching her instead. Their compartment was dim, as the sun had long-since set outside and the single lantern swinging in the corner did little to brighten the space. But the moment Lenore opened her eyes, Phin smiled.
That smile was as painful as a bullet. There was nothing artful or calculated about it. The clever, rakish Phineas with whom she’d plotted on Phoebe Long’s behalf, who wrote salacious stories that bordered on ruining the lives of London socialites, who bantered with her on walks through Hyde Park, as if daring people to comment, was gone. In his place was a simple man wearing glasses who had a heart that beat for her. The transformation made him a thousand times handsomer and more desirable than he already was, and it crushed Lenore’s heart in the process. He was everything she’d always wanted—handsome, clever, a bit naughty, but good at heart—but she could never have him.
“Are we there yet?” she asked in a gravelly voice, sitting straight and stretching.
Phin sucked in a breath and straightened as well, righting his glasses with a deliberate gesture, his eyes raking her body as though
