Mrs. McKnight began scrabbling in her handbag. “The hotel never received our reservation—or so they say. The clerk told me, in a most officious manner, that they had no rooms for us, regardless. The hotel is fully booked. The Olympic games, didn’t I know?”
It was true that the world had begun to descend on London for the start of the international games, athletes and spectators alike. It was one reason for the mob pouring out of the Baltic.
The two porters, hands full of luggage, began edging back toward the car.
Clara was pale with worry. “They said all the hotels in London are full. Whatever shall we do?”
“Could the clerk not help in any way?” Evie asked.
Where the devil was the inconvenient fiancé? If Jamie’s beloved had landed in London with no transportation and no lodgings, he’d have been on hand to supply both. He’d have arranged everything for her and her family in the first place, and been prominent on the docks to meet them.
Observing Evie’s thundercloud face, Jamie decided not to ask about the absent Mr. Atherton.
He turned to Mrs. McKnight instead. “Is it far to your home, ma’am? I’m happy to oblige with the car, though I might need to refuel.”
Mrs. McKnight shook her head. “Bedfordshire. It is much too far. We do not have a house in Town at the moment …”
“We’ve never had a house in Town, Mama,” Marjorie said in surprise.
No one shushed her, but none of the ladies looked at her either. Jamie pretended not to notice her outburst.
“I suppose we shall have to find another train,” Mrs. McKnight began.
“No, indeed,” Jamie interrupted her. “You’ll be wanting a rest and a good meal after your journey. Happily for you, madam, I know just the place.” He opened the passenger door. “All aboard, once again, ladies. I will deliver you to fine accommodations.”
Chapter 3
No, no, no, Evie could not sit in the motorcar again so close to Jamie. Her interest in the car itself had helped, but she’d been most distracted by Jamie’s large hands, strong under tight gloves, manipulating the gears and steering wheel, the wind ruffling his hair.
Now he was offering to drive them on, and Evie would be next to him once more. His arm might brush hers as he shifted the gears, or perhaps he’d have to reach across her for some unknown reason. She did not like how easily she imagined it, and the heat that would crackle through her at his touch.
Evie should be relieved that her mother immediately refused. Shouldn’t she?
“Mr. Mackenzie, we could not possibly impose ourselves on you,” Mrs. McKnight protested. “You’ve already done too much. We will simply have to find a train.”
“Most have gone for the evening, ma’am,” a porter put in helpfully.
Mrs. McKnight’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, dear.”
“Never fear, madam.” Jamie swept her an exaggerated bow that would make another man ridiculous, but with Jamie, it was only graceful. “I will simply convey you to another hotel.”
Another hotel. Evie felt a hard twinge of disappointment, then admonished herself. What had she expected—that Jamie would rush them to his own home? Where Evie could see where he lived, what sort of things he collected, who he’d become since Cambridge?
But then Jamie likely had lodgings in a building where women weren’t allowed. There was his parents’ home in Belgravia—Evie had read that was where they lived when they stayed in London—but a family of four descending on them unexpectedly would hardly be civil.
That left a hotel. Logical. Then why her disappointment?
“Hotels are full up,” the porter said. “Nary a room to be found.” His cheeriness began to grate on Evie’s nerves.
“Not this one,” Jamie said without concern. “My Uncle Cameron is a permanent guest, but he’s not in Town at the moment, so his suite will be empty. He lets me squeeze in friends when he’s gone.”
“Absolutely not,” Evie’s mother said firmly.
“Only for one night,” Jamie assured her. “Tomorrow you can make arrangements to take yourself back home. It’s either the hotel or Uncle Hart’s Grosvenor Square house. Aunt Eleanor would welcome you with open arms, but then you’d have to put up with Uncle Hart. Trust me, one needs a good night’s sleep and a rousing breakfast before facing him.”
Jamie spoke breezily, as though this were a good joke, but Evie had heard things about Hart Mackenzie, the Duke of Kilmorgan. He was a difficult man with a hard temper and a determination that made lesser men quail. King Edward himself was said to have stated he’d never get into an argument with Hart Mackenzie.
Marjorie danced from foot to foot, clearly wanting to take Jamie’s offer. Clara too, while she was less impulsive than Marjorie, obviously found the idea of another hotel appealing, though they’d be obligated to a stranger.
No, not a stranger. A man who’d once kissed Evie with such strength on the bank of a river.
“Well.” Mrs. McKnight wavered. Evie held her breath, not daring to show what she felt, if she even knew herself. “For one night, I suppose we must.” Her mother bent a severe eye on Jamie. “Nothing too extravagant, Mr. Mackenzie. A respectable hostelry is all we require. Though I suppose beggars can’t be choosers in this case.”
Jamie flashed her a brilliant smile. “You let me worry about that, Mrs. McKnight. Now, let’s settle ourselves once more.”
The porters had shoved and jammed their bags back into the car. Jamie’s one small leather valise appeared neat and efficient next to Evie’s family’s overstuffed portmanteaus.
The McKnights climbed in, Marjorie and Clara rapidly filling the back seat after Mrs. McKnight had resumed her place there. Why Evie ended up next to Jamie again, she couldn’t say. She’d have thought Marjorie would wish to be in front, but Marjorie bounced on the cushioned seat behind her, beaming happily.
Jamie slid in, his large body far too close to Evie’s. He competently shoved the gearshift into place, the car gliding smoothly forward.
To cover her nervousness, Evie babbled, “It must be splendid to drive.” A cool gust swarmed down the street, and she clutched at her hat.
Jamie sent her an unreadable glance. “It’s easy enough when you practice.”
He showed no inclination to offer her lessons on the spot, but perhaps one day she could persuade him to teach her.
But no, that could never happen. Jamie would convey them to the hotel and then disappear from Evie’s life.
As he should. Jamie Mackenzie was merely an acquaintance from her Cambridge days, even if it was an unnerving acquaintance. He would fade from her world, and Evie would continue as she was.
Why did that thought dismay her?
And when had she become so unsettled? She’d been perfectly contented on the ship, enjoying fine afternoon teas and dancing with polite gentlemen every evening. The weather had been unexpectedly fine, and she’d stood on the deck many a night gazing at the stars.
The solitude of the empty space under the dark sky, coupled with the vastness of the sea, had soothed her. She’d been at peace, serene, for the first time in a long while, old sorrow easing.
Not missing Mr. Atherton at all, a small voice whispered to her.