In Pursuit of a Scandalous Lady (6 page)

R
ebecca found it terribly easy to switch her train ticket from the 5:10 to the 3:15, even though she dropped her ticket in the booking office from sheer nerves. Two men fell to their knees to retrieve it, and she concentrated on them gratefully, afraid to look behind her.

The Earl of Parkhurst had been following her.

She had wanted that to happen, hadn't she? She'd practically
told
him she was going on a journey. She'd wanted a grand adventure—

And then she'd been held captive in her carriage, threatened, forced to run—surely not at his behest. She couldn't believe that of a peer. Or his friends, men she and her family had socialized with their whole lives.

But he'd seen the painting and the diamond. Who else could connect that to her?

She reminded herself she'd worn the necklace to a ball before knowing that the painting wasn't in a French collection. Probably any number of men, members at
the same club, might have connected her to the jewel, once they'd heard that a Society woman had posed.

But it was Lord Parkhurst following her, no one else. Was the thief following separately, or were they together?

She prayed that his lordship didn't have a ticket, that he wouldn't make the train. She needed to figure out what she was going to do next.

The London and Birmingham train was already there, steaming in the sunlight. Men and women bustled to their carriages, carrying portmanteaus or having their luggage loaded on carts pushed by porters. Not her, she thought, resisting the urge to give in to a grim laugh.

But as she was assisted into her compartment in the first-class carriages, she looked behind her and saw the thief. She almost stumbled going up the stair. In daylight, he'd looked more respectable than she'd imagined, in his coat and trousers and white shirt, like a working-class man taking the train to another working-class town, perhaps Birmingham or even farther to Manchester. But from her window she could see him watching her, even as he stood back near the third-class carriage. There were no seats in that carriage; they'd only recently put roofs on the cars to protect the passengers from the elements. He didn't enter, as if he were waiting to see if she'd run for it now that she'd seen him.

He was shoulder to shoulder with another man, she
realized with dismay. They even spoke together; they wanted her to see she was outnumbered. Had the second thief been waiting near Madingley House and together they'd followed her?

Did that mean that the earl wasn't involved with the attempted robbery and kidnapping? She didn't know what to think. There were always a rare few of the nobility who believed that their title allowed them to do anything in their own interest. Just then, she saw Lord Parkhurst leave the railway booking office, ticket in hand. She wasn't certain he could see into her compartment, but he walked right toward her. Only six people fit in each carriage, and there was already a family seated in hers: mother, father and two children. Their clothes displayed a rather open wealth, and she imagined they were of the newly rich industrial class since they didn't seem familiar.

There was one extra place on the bench, directly across from her. She gritted her teeth as Lord Parkhurst opened the door and leaned in.

“Is there an open seat?” he asked politely.

The man already inside went a little wide-eyed on seeing the earl. He must have recognized him, for he nodded and said, “Of course, my lord.”

Rebecca wanted to ignore them all. She wanted to chew her fingernails; instead she plastered her face to the window to see what her two shadows were doing. Surely they were waiting until the last possible moment
to board their carriage, just to make certain she did.

She had led them away from her family—what was she supposed to do now? She could hardly go all the way to Aunt Rianette's home and put even more family in danger. She had hoped something brilliant would occur to her. It didn't. She put a hand to her upper chest, where beneath her cloak and gown she could feel the outline of the jewel, warm against her flesh.

She could hear Lord Parkhurst settling in, even as the train whistle sounded. Porters hurriedly loaded the last of the luggage above the train carriages, those that hadn't been sent with the earlier goods train, as hers had been.

She had no other clothing but what she was wearing. She pressed her lips together, still feeling a little hysterical amusement.

And then something brushed her foot and, startled, she was forced to stop looking out the window. Lord Parkhurst's great legs were sprawled before her, his knees almost reaching hers, his feet beneath her skirts. He was watching her, a faint smile on his broad mouth. She hastily dropped her hand from the hidden diamond.

At last, with a jerk and a shudder, the train began to move, heading north out of London. She turned to look out the window again. She didn't want to talk to the earl, didn't know what she could possibly say to him
without revealing their strange connection to the small family traveling with them.

At least he seemed to realize the same, for he didn't speak to her either. Yet she could not forget him, for the rumbling and vibrating of the train sometimes let their legs briefly touch—or was he instigating it? She wouldn't put it past him as he tried to unnerve her.

At last the father of the little family, Mr. Seymour, struck up a conversation with the earl about the expansion of the railways, and Rebecca felt a bit of her tension ease. She huddled within her cloak, wishing she had a rug across her lap as each member of the little family did. It was always so drafty on a train.

Within the next hour, after several brief stops at railway stations in Middlesex and Hertfordshire, the little children, a boy and a girl, became bored with the countryside and their confinement and began to pick fights with each other. At one stop, the Seymour family's maid came up from second class to bring them sandwiches and beverages from the dining car. That helped occupy the children. After a while, Rebecca couldn't conceal that a maid wasn't traveling with her, for no one brought her food. Mrs. Seymour offered to share, but Rebecca declined politely.

Always Lord Parkhurst was watching her, smiling as if she amused him.

As if he had her right where he wanted her.

She shivered. Hadn't she wanted a grand adventure? How much more adventurous could a sheltered lady be? She was being chased by three men; she was wearing a valuable jewel around her neck; she had no idea where she was going, or what she would do to elude the thieves.

And she was facing a large, powerful man who looked at her as if he could eat her up.

She was almost cowering against the window. That had to stop. Rolling her shoulders for a moment, she repositioned her legs, wishing she could stretch them out. But that would be right between Lord Parkhurst's legs. Lifting her chin, she met his gaze, then straightened her stiff limbs anyway. He arched a brow, a smile playing on his mouth, but he made no physical response as she invaded his territory.

The little boy, perhaps five, chose that moment to have a tantrum that his red-faced mother could not hush. He seemed to forget where he was as he ducked away from his mother, then tripped over Lord Parkhurst's legs. The boy fell right between Rebecca and the earl, and as they both leaned forward to help him, their heads banged together. She straightened, hand to her head to readjust her hat even as the earl came up with the boy in his big hands. Lord Parkhurst surely didn't notice their collision, while she felt as if she'd hit a great big rock.

“Oh my!” said Mrs. Seymour, wringing her hands together. “My lord, I am so sorry!”

To Rebecca's surprise, Lord Parkhurst put the boy on his knee and gestured out his window.

“It doesn't look much different on this side of the train, does it?” he said soothingly. “We're passing through the Chilterns now. Do you know what they are?”

Rebecca gaped—along with Mr. and Mrs. Seymour—as his lordship held a conversation about the chalk hills with a five-year-old. The man had no children of his own. He'd been seeing to the business of his title for almost ten years. Had he made time for his brothers and sisters? She wouldn't have thought so, with the tension she sensed between him and his twin brothers.

Could a man who so easily conversed with a child be involved with the thief who'd kidnapped her today? What was she supposed to do with him—and the other two men whom she'd seen waiting for her to disembark at each station?

 

Julian watched as Rebecca's stiff, tense body finally yielded to sleep. They'd been traveling almost three hours, and they hadn't had a conversation yet. She hadn't left the train, not even for a moment's privacy in a railway station. She had to be hungry—he certainly was. What was the point of her behavior, if she were simply fleeing London and the wager?

He still couldn't erase the image from his mind of how frightened she'd looked when she'd first seen him
at the station. Something had changed—and he hated being ignorant of it. He was a man who left nothing to chance, even if it was the smallest business decision. He over-researched everything. And now he was turning that focus on Rebecca Leland. He knew she was cold, the drafts going up her skirt, but too proud to ask for help—or to purchase a lap rug at a station.

More than once, he'd seen her hand go unconsciously to her bodice, fingering something beneath her cloak. She hadn't worn the diamond to Lady Thurlow's reception; why should he believe she'd donned it for the journey?

Because he always trusted his instincts.

At last they reached a railway station in Warwick-shire, and the entire Seymour family temporarily departed, leaving their cloaks and gloves behind. Rebecca looked out the window, her expression pensive.

He folded his arms over his chest. “So where are you going without a maid?”

Her gaze shot to him, cool—but a touch hesitant. Was he about to hear something resembling the truth?

“You followed me,” she said in a low voice.

“I do not take wagers lightly. And you deliberately led me on with your talk of a journey. You
wanted
me to follow you.”

She took a breath, then leaned toward him, eyes suddenly earnest. “You're not the only one following me.”

He went still, staring at her, taking her measure. Was
this a game, part of some plan to keep all her secrets hidden?

But then she glanced out the window, and her face paled. Could she be telling the truth? He thought again of how she'd gone in the front entrance of Madingley House, leaving a carriage waiting, then emerged from the rear, driving as fast as she could in traffic.

“Are you with them?” she asked, gesturing with her head out the window.

He looked past her. The platform was crowded but, after a moment, he realized most people were milling about, stretching their legs, or walking briskly to and from the station.

But two roughly dressed men stood alone, unmoving near the first-class carriages. And they were looking right into Julian and Rebecca's compartment.

He arched a brow. “How long have they been following you?” Someone else must have made the connection between the painting, the diamond, and Rebecca. Did she even realize what was going on?

Or perhaps the heirs to the maharajah, who'd given the Scandalous Lady to his father, had never let their interest in the diamond die.

She studied him. “You do not even ask if I'm making things up, or letting my feminine nerves get the best of me. I cannot tell if it's because you're treating me as a responsible adult—or because you already
know
they're following me.”

“You're accusing me of being in league with them,” he said calmly, wanting to take offense, but not wanting to frighten her into silence. “Why ever would you believe such a thing?”

She linked her hands in her lap, and he had to be impressed by the cool way she faced this situation.

“Aren't
all
of you following me?” she asked with sarcasm.

He gave her a faint smile. “You have a point. But you know why I'm following you. Do you have any knowledge of those two men?”

She hesitated, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Then she seemed to make a decision, for she let out her breath and said, “One of them was hiding inside my carriage when I left the reception.”

He straightened. “Are you well?” he asked in a harsh voice.

She blinked at him. “Don't I look well?”

“You're proud enough to hide what you wish to. Answer my question.”

“I'm well,” she said, still looking at him as if surprised.

“Tell me everything he did from the moment you entered the carriage.”

So she recited her afternoon adventure, step by step, and Julian's anger increased with each revelation. She acted as if the diamond she'd worn was hardly worth this kind of determination.

“You didn't see the second man earlier?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not until just before we boarded. If you didn't bring the thief with you—”

He actually emitted a growl, surprising himself and startling her.

Quickly, she continued, “Then he had to have traveled to the station with that second man.”

“And you simply boarded the train, rather than go to the authorities,” he said with disbelief.

“And what would you have me say?” she asked coolly. “‘Yes, Officer, I was wearing the aforementioned diamond when I posed nude. Shall I show the painting to you, so you can parade it before all of London?'”

Of course she wouldn't have thought of her own safety—only the scandal of it all, and what it would do to her family.

She'd been protecting her family by leading the thieves away from Madingley House. He didn't want to admire her right now, not when he was still furious that she'd put herself in worse danger.

“Did you have any plan at all?” he demanded, spreading his hands wide.