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 moved closer to her. “Although I’ll admit, I rather hoped you were game. And I wasn’t disappointed in that regard.”
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.