CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE EXPRESS MAIL TRAIN to the coast would leave just after dusk and Barnabas had decided to wait for that one instead of stopping in every station the train rolled through. Coleraine would have taken the same route when he left London three days earlier. The man made the trip to his estate often enough to know the quickest way.
Not that Barnabas really wanted to get to Ireland any faster. No, there he would have to arrest a man he believed innocent. He’d had to testify to the grand jury and would be compelled to testify again at the earl’s trial. Barnabas felt like he was cast of lead.
He’d thought by becoming an inspector he could stop this sort of injustice from ever happening again. Last time he’d witnessed an innocent man convicted of a murder he hadn’t committed, he’d been young and unable to stop it. He’d been too slow to search for the evidence, taken the proof of what happened to the wrong person, and had believed everyone raised as a gentleman would behave honorably when the truth was known.
This time he’d gone nowhere trying to find the real killer, and instead of searching for the murderer, a deeper need to rule Coleraine in or out had taken over his investigation. Now time was running out.
He should have stopped Coleraine from leaving town. Or forced him to ask permission to leave.
Barnabas found an unoccupied bench and debated the wisdom of sitting down. He was half afraid he’d fall asleep and miss his train. An elderly man and his wife made the decision for him by taking the bench. Instead he studied the cavernous Great Hall, wondering if one of the scores of passengers embarking or arriving was the murderer.
The back of his neck tickled.
He swiveled. Henry, with her determined stride, was headed toward the ticket window. A battered canvas valise hung from her right hand. No doubt she was intent on tailing him to Ireland.
The tingling crawled lower. Damn, he didn’t need her following him to arrest Coleraine. He didn’t want to be around her. He’d made a fool of himself one too many times, and he was in no mood to do it again. The last thing he wanted was her anywhere near him with her tempting curves and defiant mouth. She clouded his thinking and distracted him. He grabbed his Moroccan leather valise and went after her.
Her step quickened as he neared her.
He caught her left arm and pulled her around. “What are you doing?”
“My job,” she returned stubbornly. “Did you finally realize you’d been duped?”
His jaw tightened and he barely stopped himself from grinding his teeth. God, she made him crazy. “I wasn’t duped.”
She lifted her eyebrows and pursed her mouth in a gesture of pure skepticism. “Really?”
He let out a ragged breath. “His sister’s husband died and she sent a telegram asking him to come to her. That would be like flashing a fat purse in front of a pickpocket to a man like Coleraine. He wouldn’t be able to resist.” Barnabas wanted to yank her against him and ply her smart mouth with silencing kisses. That would at least stop him from telling her too many details that would make their way into the newspaper. “I knew he’d go to her.”
He hadn’t known the earl would try to deceive him to do it. The trickery might have worked if Coleraine hadn’t tried to sell him a bill of goods before he left.
Henry tugged her arm free and planted her hand on her hip. She appeared to try and plant the other before she realized she held her bag. Her blue eyes flashed. “And you wanted me to believe I was following his brother.”
“I don’t need everything I know ending up in the newspaper.” He withheld information from people all the time, but only she managed to get a needle under his skin and stab him with guilt. “And I didn’t see any reason to let you stop him.”
“So I was right when I wrote that he’d fled the city.” She rolled her eyes. “So much for the earl’s lawyer threatening my newspaper with a libel suit for saying he’d fled before getting arrested.”
“If that is all you needed to know, I’ve confirmed the earl is in Ireland.” He didn’t need her distracting him from doing his job. “Go home.”
“What if he isn’t there? What if he has fled for the Americas or something?” She took a step toward him.
“I’ll send you a cable,” he muttered.
“I don’t believe you. I’m the last person you’d tell anything.”
“I suppose you think it would make a great headline if you find he’s fled from arrest, but I’m telling you he’ll be at his home or his sister’s.”
She gave a toss of her head as if she were affronted and yelped, “I don’t want him to get away.” She grimaced and added on a more rational tone, “No matter what kind of headline it would be. I want him stopped before he hurts anyone else.”
“And how will following me to Ireland help that to happen?”
“I wasn’t following you. For all I knew you were still watching his brother in Coleraine’s house.”
Foolish of him to think she was following him.
“But since the earl has been indicted, I knew someone would be sent to arrest him. So my editor said I could go to get the story.”
He shouldn’t be surprised that she knew of the arrest warrant. “Go home.”
Her lips tightened. “I need to go buy my ticket.”
She swiveled and headed toward the ticket office. Infuriating creature. Her generous hips swayed as she walked and his thoughts flashed to the night they’d spent in the hotel and the way he’d explored those curves and her responses. Infuriatingly sexy creature.
He followed her a step behind. No matter how much she tried to act like a man, she wasn’t. “Henry, you shouldn’t be traveling alone.”
He could almost hear her eye roll as she said, “The only person I need to protect myself from is you.”
He jarred to a stop, her words like a slap.
Wasn’t as if she’d ever made a great effort to stop him.
“Just because we’ll be on the same train doesn’t mean we have to sit near each other or anything,” she said.
He swallowed a sour taste in his mouth.
She wasn’t his problem. Besides she probably had that gun on her. But as he watched her stride off in her determined way, he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist keeping an eye on her for the journey. Which was a damn shame, because he had been looking forward to catching up on his sleep during the hours ahead.
*~*~*
Henry steadfastly ignored Barnabas as the train chugged and screeched into the station and then let off a final hiss as it drew to a halt. Her breasts and thighs burned with the memory of his hands rubbing against them the other night in his uncle’s carriage. She had come dangerously close to succumbing to his persuasion. No doubt an hours-long train ride would allow him too much opportunity to seduce her, which seemed to be the only thing he was interested in with her. That or thwarting her from getting a story.
Her editor’s admonition to coddle Barnabas a little more rang in her ears. Although surely her editor didn’t know that coddling Barnabas involved surrendering her tattered virtue. Henry wasn’t willing to trade her body for information. Kissing was one thing, but she’d allowed him far too many liberties when she was still shaky from being attacked. He hadn’t even bothered to call on her in the three days since he’d made improper suggestions and seen her home. Which really showed how little he thought of her.
He must have been so convinced of his powers of persuasion that he hadn’t needed to come to her, that she would crawl back to him with the flimsy excuse of needing information about the case. Granted nearly every waking thought she had was a half-excuse to seek him out. Thankfully, she’d rejected every reason before now. She wasn’t here to find him, but to follow her story.
The guards opened the doors for passengers to disembark. She made her way towards one of the second class carriages near the rear of the train. Even as she wove through the people on the platform, she felt Barnabas watching her.
Felt it in the pit of her stomach, in the base of her spine, and in the tightening of her nipples. She clenched her eyes shut and hoped that her lascivious thoughts weren’t apparent to everyone around her. She cast up a silent prayer that she wouldn’t be tortured with wants during the whole evening the way she’d spent a sleepless night tossing and flopping about in her bed. Her flesh had clamored for more of what he’d done to her.
He caught her arm and a shiver rolled down her spine. She knew it was Barnabas before she opened her eyes.
“You’re not riding second class.”
“I can’t afford first class.”
He tugged. “I’ll pay.”
She dug in her heels.
A guard passed in front of them.
“We have time to change Miss Brown’s ticket to first class, don’t we?” Barnabas asked the uniformed man.
“You have plenty of time. Just be back by the second whistle.”
It was her chance to protest. She opened her mouth.
Barnabas leaned down and spoke into her ear. “You don’t have to ride in the same compartment as me, just don’t make me worry about you for the entire trip.”
He would worry? She turned to study the grim expression on his face.
The guard moved on, calling for tickets.
Barnabas turned her, let go of her arm, and took her valise from her hand. “Come on.”
To protest having her ticket changed to first class seemed stupid. She did it anyway. “I don’t want to be in your debt.”
“Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face.” He strode back inside the station, his long legs eating up the distance. And he’d taken her valise hostage.
She had to take a few skipping steps to catch him. “I know you didn’t demand to speak to the earl until today.”
He gave her a look. “I told you. I didn’t need to.”
“But you promised me.”
“Don’t recall a deadline,” he muttered. “So it was people working for your newspaper watching the earl’s house and me?”
She didn’t answer.
With a wry lift of his eyebrow he said, “I wasn’t certain since you’ve thrown my name out for all and sundry, but I guess the other papers are just getting the story from you.”
“Not entirely,” she protested, feeling vaguely as if she’d done something wrong. It was just after the first week, she’d dug deeper. “But it happened in our part of town.”
He moved to the ticket window and set the valises down against the wall in front of him and held out his hand. “Ticket.”
She handed him her ticket and a few minutes later she was being handed into a first class carriage with Barnabas. A couple of middling years sat on the opposite bench. They gave them the polite distant sort of nods that one does to a stranger that one will be sharing space with.
Henry pulled her skirts back so they wouldn’t brush across their knees as she took her seat with little success.
“I thought I could ride in any compartment but yours,” she whispered to Barnabas.
He gave her a skeptical look. “Don’t worry. I’ll be asleep before we’re ten minutes out of the station.” He yawned. “You don’t have to talk to me.”
Then he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the side of the train and closed his eyes.
The whistle shrilling and the engine chugging to life didn’t stir him.
She glared at him, which was completely ineffective. “Don’t expect me to wipe your chin if you drool.”
The corners of his mouth lifted for just a second.
“Or are you going to pretend to sleep so you don’t have to talk to me?”
He sighed then leaned close to her ear and brushed a kiss across her hair to the scandalized gaze of the couple sitting across from them. “I shan’t argue with you while we’re on the train.” He returned to his previous position leaning against the side of the carriage with his eyes closed. “Just do whatever you intended to do if you were riding on the ticket you bought.”
She huffed out, as she watched the buildings fly by. Her reflection was a gloomy shadow imposed over them in the window. He upgraded her ticket so she’d ride with him, then he was ignoring her. What the bloody hell did he want from her?
*~*~*
Barnabas woke in the wee hours with a jerk. It was as if a realization tumbled him out of sleep, but as he searched his brain he couldn’t figure out what had startled him. He leaned back trying to let the thought resurface.
“Are you awake?” whispered Henry.
Barnabas stretched before looking at her. He didn’t want to talk before whatever woke him came back to him, but Henry wasn’t the silent type. She’d keep at him until he responded.
In the compartment, the mature couple had left and two sleeping men leaned against either wall on the opposite side. He must have slept through at least one of the two stops before the end of the line at the coast. He debated going back to sleep to avoid a conversation with her. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
No one was on the other side of her. She could have made use of the far wall to lean against, but she’d remained in the middle. He didn’t let himself think it was because she wanted to be near him.
“I can’t sleep on a train.”
“We’ve got a lot of hours of travel ahead of us. You should try.” He patted his thigh. His concern about her was filling the blank canvas in his mind when he wanted the deeper recesses of his thoughts to come forward. Still if he could get her to sleep, he could think in silence. “You’re short enough you could lie on the seat and put your head in my lap.”
“I’m not putting my head in your lap,” she screeched.
One of the other men in the compartment gave a snuffling snort. They both held their breath as he settled back into sleep.
“I’m not putting my head in your lap,” she whispered sternly.
He rubbed his face and pulled his watch out of his pocket. By his calculations they still had at least an hour before they arrived in Holyhead where they’d board the ferry to take them across the Irish Sea. He slid across to the other seat trying not to disturb their sleeping fellow travelers.
“Lay down, shorty. You’ll fit, and you should try and get some sleep.”
She shook her head and looked out the window. Darkness obscured the passing landscape. Darkness and the reflections from the dimmed lamps in the compartment. Her reflection hovered in the glass. Unusual for her to be quiet for so long.
“I’m awake now.” He could keep an eye on her while she slept if she was worried about sleeping in the company of men.
“Good. Because I saw the earl’s brother at the last stop.” Her mouth turned down at the corners. “But I guess that is hardly a surprise. He’s probably going to warn the earl about the indictment.”
Seamus Gilvaroy already had warned his brother in a cable. So the trip wasn’t related to that. From what Barnabas had learned talking to Seamus yesterday, the man frequently traveled back and forth to Ireland. Much more frequently than the earl did. “He might just want to spend time with his brother while he can. Are you certain you don’t want to try to sleep? I won’t let you drool or snore.”
“I don’t snore,” she said stiffly.
He wouldn’t mind if she did. If only he’d get the opportunity to learn.
“Or drool.” She rubbed her nose, giving away the falsehood.
He smiled.
Henry swayed with the motion of the train, but made no effort to lie down. “You should ask the earl’s brother why he’s on the train. Although, I don’t suppose he’ll get there any sooner than we will.”
If she wouldn’t take him up on his offer, there was no point in squeezing in between the two other passengers. “Did he recognize you?” he asked as he took his former seat beside her.
Her forehead puckered adorably. “I don’t know why he would, but he did duck away when he saw me watching him.”
If he’d seen the two of them together, Seamus could be avoiding another police interview. He’d been incredibly nervous when questioned earlier in the day, but that could be because he feared he’d been caught perpetuating a deception on the police and could be named as an accessory. “He’s probably worried about being swarmed by reporters.”
Her blue eyes rolled. “If I meant to interview him, I would have by now. I’m determined like that.”
“Stubborn is more like it.”
“And you are not?” She arched her eyebrows.
He tried to not be so stubborn he was blinded to the truth. Really he didn’t want to talk about the case. Once Henry got started it was just a matter of time before they disagreed. “Why are you so stubborn?”
She shrugged.
He wanted to drag her into his lap, but it was one thing when they were alone, another when their fellow passengers were inches away. He settled for tracing a finger down her face in front of her ear to her jaw. Her skin was so incredibly soft.
She blinked and her eyes took on a sleepy look before her gaze sharpened. He wasn’t certain if the drooping eyelids were due to tiredness or because she responded to his touch as much as he responded to touching her. Which he shouldn’t do. It was one thing to be concerned about her traveling alone. Another to be touching her when he couldn’t really allow it to go further. For pity’s sake, he’d signed on as her protector and, as she’d pointed out, he was the one she needed protection from.
“I’m stubborn because I wanted a man’s job instead of working as a seamstress like my mother did,” Henry answered. “She never stopped sewing. She brought home pieces after hours. My sister and I helped. We’d all stay up late stitching, wake up and sew some more. She was hardly paid for her work. Men’s jobs pay better even when they don’t involve extra strength.”
“So did you always want to write?”
“I used to write my father copious letters when I was little.” She looked down. “He rarely answered, but he did say I was a good story teller. Then my sister mentioned once that whoever wrote scandal sheets about the first Evil Earl could probably make a fortune.” She rolled her shoulders. “I was tired of sewing all the time.”
“And a reporter was formed?” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
She didn’t protest. “I like asking people what happened. I like figuring things out.”
“Me too.” They had that in common. “The writing though,” he shook his head. “I have my sergeant, Murdock, write most of the reports.”
“But you take notes.”
“I do. Have to for Murdock to write them up.” Was her reporting just a means of supporting herself until she married and had children? Was he worried about a problem that would disappear once she was his wife? He pulled her tight against him. If he married her would she give up reporting? “Would you ever give it up?” He held his breath, waiting for her answer.
“I don’t want to ever quit. It is who I am.”
Her answer disrupted his pleasant musings about the possible future with a bucket of ice water. If she wasn’t willing to give up her reporting, they couldn’t be together, let alone ever be married. He tried to shake the jarring crash of his hopes.