Seducing an Heiress on a Train, page 4
Margaret sighed. “How would we even find her again? These Americans always come and go on a whim, and we are due to leave for Lord Fraser’s in a few days.”
Zadie beamed in excitement and nudged Oliver. “She will be in attendance at Lord Fraser’s house party too. She’s taking a train tomorrow afternoon, and I think you should be on it.”
“What?” Oliver asked. “My ticket is for three days hence with you.”
Zadie shook her head. “No, you need to be alone, and you need to woo her on the train before she arrives at Lord Fraser’s. We don’t want Adelaide ruining your fortune hunting.”
Oliver grimaced at the term. Fortune hunting. He didn’t want to think of Rayne like that, yet trapping her in a tiny cabin aboard a train to steal a dozen more kisses… That was the sort of hunt he wouldn’t mind at all, as long as he could ignore the creeping feeling of guilt about luring Rayne into marriage.
“Do you like her, Oliver?” his mother asked. “Only pursue her if you do. At least with Adelaide we know the kind of person we’re dealing with.”
His little brother snorted and winked at Oliver. “Anyone is better than Adelaide.”
“Everett!” Margaret hushed him.
Oliver smiled, feeling hopeful for the first time as he looked at his mother and siblings. “I do. I like her very much.”
Now all he had to do was seduce an heiress on a train in two days to save his family and his home. How hard could it be?
4
Rayne peered around at the imposing edifice of King’s Cross railway station. Despite the fact that she wore a heavy gown with a black velvet dolman draped over her upper body, she was quite cold, and the breezy station only increased the chill. She stood with her lady’s maid, Ellen Moore, a woman in her late thirties whom her father had hired to assist her while they were in England and Scotland. Ellen was quiet but kind and easy to be around, and Rayne felt they were forming a friendship, something she knew was very American, but she didn’t care. Ellen passed her a thick black muff to tuck her hands in, and she smiled at her maid gratefully.
“What do you think of it, Ellen?” Rayne pulled her black dolman up around her neck, fighting the chill inside the station. “Quite an architectural marvel, isn’t it?”
The maid’s eyes roamed over the majestic temple that was King’s Cross. It was a beautiful combination of functionality and architectural elegance. Brickwork and ironwork came together to create the vast station. Trains hissed, steam curled up from the tracks, and clouds of white smoke billowed out from the engines. Some people rushed frantically to board cars, while others said tearful goodbyes as they left for the holidays.
Rayne had seen trains before, but the red-and-black steel beasts here were more stately and less fierce than their American counterparts. Several mustached gentlemen in blue uniforms monitored the boarding passengers, checking ticket books and taking luggage when necessary.
“I’ve never been on a train before,” Ellen confessed, her eyes wide. “I’ve been here plenty of times, but never to travel.”
“It’s quite fun,” Rayne assured her. “The whistle is a little loud if you’re close in the first few cars, but I like the motion of it, the vibrations beneath one’s feet.”
Ellen smiled with mischief. “My mother said that trains used to cause madness in her day.”
Rayne and Ellen giggled at the thought. Thirty years ago, trains were fairly new to England, and there had been many silly beliefs that riding upon a train could cause madness and hysteria, especially among women.
“Ladies.” Her father rejoined them. “Our train leaves in a quarter of an hour. I suggest we remove ourselves to the first-class refreshment room.” Her father escorted them through the crowd to a red doorway with gold letters stating “First Class.”
The refreshment room was a large open room with mahogany counters running the length of two walls. Behind the counter, uniformed men waited to serve drinks and sandwiches to passengers. Rayne and Ellen each ordered a glass of lemonade and some cucumber finger sandwiches, while her father purchased a pint of ale and a beef sandwich. Douglas was a fit, handsome man for his age, and it always amused her to see her father tuck away food without it ever adding to his waistline.
“What’s our route, Father?” Rayne asked between bites.
He removed a small leather-bound book that had the words Bradshaw’s Monthly Railway Guide inscribed on the cover and turned to a page he’d marked with a slip of paper.
“We leave London, then journey to Peterborough, which should take three and a half hours. Then we go to Doncaster in two hours. After that, Doncaster to York in an hour. From York to Inverness, it will be about thirteen hours. So we’ll have two nights aboard the train.”
“What do you think, Ellen?” Rayne asked.
Her lady’s maid finished her food with a delighted smile. “I was quite worried when I heard train food was all little gristly cubes and sawdusty sandwiches, but these were marvelous.”
Douglas chuckled. “My dear Miss Moore, you’re enjoying the benefits of first-class food. I’m told the third-class passengers fare far worse.”
“Oh…” Ellen’s cheeks were filled with color. “I’m very thankful indeed.”
“I do hope our cooks in the dining cabin aren’t too terrible. One never knows.” Her father finished his ale and checked the time on his gold pocket watch. “Well, we’d best be off.”
Rayne, her father, and Ellen left the refreshment room and crossed the bustling station to their train. Rayne paused, searching for a few coins in her reticule as she reached the W. H. Smith stand. The stand contained newspapers and a few books. Rayne purchased a copy of Jane Eyre as well as the Morning Post before catching up with her father and Ellen. Their luggage had been loaded earlier that morning and would follow them to their final destination. But Ellen and her father carried a few small suitcases to ensure they could change in their cabins for the next couple of days.
They boarded the first-class train car, and Rayne marveled at the expensive wood paneling, which was glossy with black and red paint. The glass windows that framed the cabins for day travel sparkled as she walked along the narrow passage after her father and Ellen.
“Here we are, ladies. Miss Moore, you are here in 6A. Rayne, dear, you are 6C, and I am 6B. I’m told the lavatories are at the end of the hall, and the dining cabin is two train cars behind us.” Her father handed them each the keys to their cabins.
“I’ll get settled and be right in to help you, Miss Rayne.”
“Thank you, Ellen.” Rayne entered her own cabin. It had a small bed, perfect for one person, or two people if they slept very close. A tiny closet was opposite the bed, where one could store luggage carried on board.
Rayne removed her dolman and unpinned her hat from her hair and set it aside, then looked down at her gown. It was dark-gray silk bustled gown with black lace that covered her sleeves and hem. Gray was usually such a dull color, but the silk in this gown made it seem almost iridescent. She brushed her fingertips over the silk and closed her eyes as memories of last night stole her focus again.
She had barely been able to sleep after returning from the ball. She had been giddy and at the same time burdened with sorrow, because the man she’d become fascinated by in so short a time was gone, and she would never see him again. She didn’t even know his name. Her heart ached at the thought.
Have I missed it? The perfect man and the perfect moment?
Her eyes blurred with treacherous tears. She was not the sort of woman to cry, and this was twice now in two days. Rayne sniffled and reached for the newspaper she had purchased and folded it up for later reading. Then she heard the whistle of the conductor outside, signaling the last few minutes to board the train. She opened her sleeping compartment door to watch the bustle on the platforms and gasped.
A man was rushing across the platform. It was her beautiful stranger from the library! He looked dashing in a dark-blue woolen overcoat lined with dark-gold fur. The heavy braiding of his coat was secured with a series of divet buttons that spoke of his high-born class and good taste in fashion. The man dug into the right side pocket of his coat and pulled out his ticket booklet and showed it to the conductor who allowed him inside the first-class sleeping car. The man removed his top hat and brushed off a dusting of snow, then he glanced around and checked his ticket again before proceeding to the cabin next to hers.
Ducking back into her room just before he could catch sight of her, she closed her door, her breath coming fast and her corset stretched far too tight. He was staying next to her, sleeping one door away. The idea made her flush wildly. What should she do? Introduce herself? No, that was too forward, even for her. Arrange to bump into him in the small confines of the corridor? Maybe.
What are you doing, Rayne? You don’t know him. He could be married or engaged, yet you’re indulging in romantic thoughts about him?
If he’s engaged or married, that’s the end of it, isn’t it? she countered inside her head. But what if he isn’t?
She knew she was being very foolish, but something about him made her want to take that risk. That kiss in the library last evening had awoken something inside her, and she didn’t want to fall back into the sleep of what her life had been before.
She jumped when someone knocked on her door. She rushed to check her hair and face in the small mirror next to her bed before she answered. Her heart sank as she saw it was Ellen. Of course. Did she honestly expect him to come knocking on her door?
The maid entered her cabin, her eyes looking over Rayne suspiciously as she set down a suitcase of clothes.
“Miss? Are you well? You seem flushed,” Ellen observed.
“Oh yes, I’m quite fine.”
The train whistle shrieked, and then the train began to move. Ellen gasped and clutched at the wall, muttering about black deviled engines, and Rayne laughed, pulling her down beside her on the bed.
“It takes you a bit of time to adjust. You’ll become used to the motion.”
Ellen laughed nervously. “I expect it will take a bit of practice to walk while it moves. Your father has gone to the day-travel compartment if you wish to join him and read for a bit.” Ellen leaned one hand on the closet door as she stood.
“I might like that, yes.” Rayne reached for her books and newspaper. “I shall meet him there in a moment.”
Her maid left Rayne to see to her valise and its contents in her closet. When she was done, Rayne gathered her book and newspaper in her arms and exited the cabin. She turned and collided with something—no, someone—and fell back onto the ground.
“Lord, I’m so sorry!” The achingly perfect voice made her look up to see her stranger standing above her.
He had removed his overcoat and was now wearing dark-blue trousers and a gray waistcoat that matched her dress. For some reason the idea of their clothes matching made her giggle. When she covered her mouth in embarrassment, she realized she had spilled her newspaper and dropped her book. He knelt and collected the items as she reached for them at the same time.
Their eyes met, and she saw gentle concern mixed with desire and fascination all at once as he recognized her.
“You… It’s you,” he murmured as he placed the newspaper in her arms and then wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her to her feet as though she and her voluminous silk gown weighed nothing at all.
“I…” She stared up at him, both speechless and enchanted. He smelled wonderful, like a man who had come in from a snowy landscape outside and brought the scents of winter and man with him. No heavy colognes, no pomades. Just him and the fresh air. It made her a little dizzy with feminine delight, and she wasn’t accustomed to that.
“Please, forgive me. I’ve gone about this like a damned fool.” He still held her waist and didn’t yet seem to be aware of it. They were standing far too close, and she liked it far too much.
“Shall we start again?” the man asked, and Rayne nodded, her mind and body still focused on his hands around her waist. He seemed unaware of the natural possessive gesture, and she liked it.
Please don’t let go, she thought.
“My name is Oliver Conway, Lord Conway.”
“Lord? Oh dear, what kind are you?” she asked. He tilted his head in confusion.
“What kind?”
“Lord, what kind of lord? I’m sorry, I’m dreadful at keeping all of the titles straight.”
He grinned at her as comprehension dawned on his face. “Viscount Conway.”
“Viscount. So above a baron but below a duke?” She nodded to herself. She could remember a viscount. She would have to look up his family in Debrett’s.
The man chuckled. “Far below a duke. Above a baron and below an earl, if that helps.” He grinned at her, and it hit her behind her knees, making her feel dizzy with delight.
“I’m Rayne Egerton. No title.”
“You were quite the topic of discussion the other night.” Oliver gave her a toe-curling smile that made her want to melt into a puddle at his feet.
“You don’t mind that I’m American?”
“Why on earth would I mind?”
“Some people do. We’re considered brash, bold, uncouth, and vulgar,” she said, rambling on in embarrassment.
“Nonsense. You speak your minds, and you have, for the most part, open hearts. We Brits can be far too closed off and reserved.” He still hadn’t let go of her, and the feel of his warm hands spanning her waist made her tremble with excitement. His fingers stroked her sides a little, and it would have tickled her if she hadn’t been wearing a corset. It felt as though he were playing with her, in the way a man would his sweetheart—the comfortable touches, the little caresses that Rayne had seen others exchange and had always wished to experience herself.
I want to touch him back the same way.
But she couldn’t. Instead, she clutched her newspaper and book like a shield, even though she was tempted to drop them again to remove that barrier between them. Her eyes focused on his mouth, a mouth that seemed just as perfect in the afternoon sunlight as it had last night lit by oil lamps and firelight. A mouth that had delivered the most divine kiss.
Oliver Conway. Lord Conway. And she was trapped on a train with him. But she was bound for Inverness. What if he got off at Peterborough or Doncaster? How much time did she actually have to be with him?
5
“Will you think me a terrible cad if I admit that I’m glad to have met you again, Rayne?” The man caressed her name in a way that made her body hum. She hadn’t given him leave to call her Rayne, but she didn’t want him to call her Miss Egerton either. Her given name had never sounded so sensual, so decadent, on anyone else’s lips.
“I’m glad too,” she admitted as she tilted her head back to look up at him.
“Last night was a memory I had planned to cherish and mourn since I did not believe I would see you again,” he murmured. “But it seems fate has other plans for us.”
“It does seem that way,” Rayne replied, breathless. “Where are you headed now, Lord Conway?”
“Oliver, please,” he said. “And I am bound for a Christmas house party in Inverness.”
“Are you?” Rayne wanted to jump in excitement. “I am as well. My father and I have been invited by Lord Fraser.”
“What a wonderful coincidence!” Oliver finally released her waist, and she instantly missed the connection. “I am Fraser’s guest as well.” He looked at her newspaper and book. “Are you bound for the day car, by any chance? I was about to go there.”
“Yes, I thought I might read for a bit.”
“May I join you?” Oliver asked.
Rayne’s heart skittered and she nodded, feeling like a girl who’d fallen hard for the first time. And for her it was. She’d never felt under compulsion by a man before, to want to be near him. This was all a new and rather frightening experience.
“Just a moment.” He vanished into his cabin and returned a heartbeat later, holding a book of his own. “Lead the way, Miss Egerton.”
“Rayne, please, I insist,” she replied.
As she started for the day car, she continued to look over her shoulder at him, feeling him close behind. The bustle of her gown flowed between their bodies, whispering against the dark-blue carpets and the wood panels of the narrow passageway. He followed behind her in a slow pursuit that sent her heart racing. He could so easily catch hold of her waist again, hold her against his chest and kiss her neck, her cheek…
The daydream temporarily distracted her as the train clattered and took a turn on the tracks as it departed King’s Cross station. She stumbled and had a brief moment to see his face reflected in the windowpanes, a handsome god lit by winter sunlight as he dove to catch her.
“Got you,” Oliver said as he held her up against the wall until the sway of the train car smoothed out and they were able to walk again.
The feel of his tall, muscled body pressed against hers, pinning her against the corridor wall, had left her breathless in a way that she was beginning to understand was dangerous. One of his thighs pressed between the front draping silks of her gown, and even that slight pressure created a low heat deep in her belly.
She tilted her head back to look up at him and smiled, but it faltered as something darker took hold of his features, something wholly masculine that warned her he wanted her, wanted to claim her in the most primal of ways. Every feminine instinct within her quivered at the thought. They were alone here. No one could stop him if he… The thought should have frightened her, but it didn’t. Part of her wanted Oliver to ruin her in the best way, so much that it created a physical ache between her thighs.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
