A Study in Scandal (Ladies' Amateur Sleuth Society Book 1)

by Robyn DeHart

  He packed an extra coat and his umbrella in case it was cold and damp on the coast. So he would have to preserve her reputation for the both of them. Else he’d ruin her and be forced to the honorable thing and marry her himself. And that marriage would make them both miserable.

  Colin pulled out some paper and wrote explicit instructions on Othello’s care. Amelia had asked her friend Willow to care for the animal in his absence. She’d assured him that Willow was quite responsible.

  He set the note and the food items on the sideboard, then went back to finalize his packing. Thus far he had lapsed in keeping his primal needs under control. Knowing his weakness for her, he knew that were they to marry he’d have to bury that part of him forever, else face the inevitable. Doing so would save him from a terrible fate, but would punish her, and that was simply unfair. She deserved better.

  No one with as much light and life in her could stand to be around someone such as himself for very long. Someone who couldn’t allow himself the freedom to be impulsive and reckless. She burned too brightly, and too many people loved that about her. And he refused to be the one to extinguish her light.

  She would come to hate him for it too, and he couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t bear to see anything in her eyes but love for life. He would do everything he could to protect her.

  He added his notebook, an extra hat, and the journals Amelia had given him, then latched the trunk closed. So they would be traveling to Brighton as brother and sister and that was precisely how he would treat her. While he’d never had a sister, he was certain that brothers, aside from assisting them out of carriages and such, never touched their sisters. He would do the same.

  But damnation, it would be hard.

  Amelia leaned her head against the closed door. They were to leave on their trip to Brighton in the morning, and she was nothing but excitement and nerves, lime spent with Colin was becoming increasingly risky for her. Especially for her heart. She was in danger of losing it completely.

  She walked into her dressing room and, after a while looking, located her travel trunk. It had certainly been a while since she’d used it. Her parents had gone on an exciting adventure to Africa, and she had stayed in the country with Willow’s family. She must have only been eleven at the time.

  She pulled the trunk into her bedchamber, blew off the dust collected on the top, and yanked it open. It creaked in protest. She peeked inside and, much to her relief, found no creatures (dead or alive) within. Presumably, knowing she was about to lose her heart should terrify her, yet she felt no fear at all. She tossed several dresses on the bed, then went about collecting coordinating ribbons, slippers, hats, and gloves.

  Even knowing that Colin would inevitably break her heart didn’t give her pause. She acknowledged the truth of the situation—the fact that he would never return her affection—and she decided she would settle for what he could offer her.

  Passion.

  Colin wanted her. That much she knew. She could see it in the way he looked at her. Feel it in the way he touched her. But he would never seduce her; he was too much of a gentleman for that.

  If she couldn’t have his heart, then she at least wanted a passionate affair. It was inevitable that she would get hurt. That would happen with or without the affair. So there was no sense in pretending she could protect her heart. Why not have what she could of him and then enjoy the memories for the rest of her life?

  He would try to protest. She knew that about him. He’d want her to be safe. Want her not to get hurt. But she would survive. No one ever died from a broken heart.

  The trick now was to figure out how to convince him to have this passionate affair.

  She gathered her clothes and assorted other things and dumped them into the trunk. It took some extra coercion to close, namely her bottom sitting on the lid, but she got it shut. She exhaled loudly.

  She could simply seduce him. Although she wasn’t quite certain she knew how to go about seducing a man. While there were probably books on the matter, she would not know where to look to find such a thing. And she certainly couldn’t ask Willow, despite the fact that Willow had probably read at least one book on every subject.

  So seduction was an option, but probably not her best choice. She could try to reason with him. Build her case and present him the facts. This tactic might work the best. Especially if she proved to him that she was going into this with her eyes open, with full knowledge of the consequences.

  She couldn’t, however, reveal to him that she cared for him, indeed was falling in love with him, else he would refuse her. He must believe her heart was completely safe. So she would have to present it as nothing more than an affair between two people who desired one another.

  And that was not being dishonest. Not really. She wasn’t completely positive about her feelings for him. Surely he would support such a plan. And when better to present it than on their trip? They’d be alone. They’d be in a place where no one knew them, so her reputation would be safe, since she knew he’d worry about that.

  She smiled simply thinking about him. He was such a gentleman. Oh, he pretended to be difficult and stoic, but she knew he had a heart. A good one too. He was merely afraid, for some reason, to use it.

  But a passionate affair might do him some good as well. The man needed a little freedom in his life. Something that allowed him not to think for once, instead to experience and enjoy, simply for the sake of it.

  It was the perfect time for them to leave London without much fear of seeing people she knew on the train. There was a huge ball at Duke Covington’s estate and everyone who was anyone would attend. And chances were, she would not be missed. Regardless, she’d rather work on the case with Colin.

  Even knowing all of that, Colin was prepared. He’d said he’d had a plan to explain their travel so that her reputation would not be jeopardized. They were to masquerade as a married couple. Perhaps on their honeymoon, to provide some additional interest. Then they could be as passionate with one another as they liked, and people would understand. Within reason, of course. But no one would question them if he merely held her hand or brushed hair from her face.

  It might not be a completely perfect plan, but with the proper words, she might be able to pull it off.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “If criminals would always schedule their movements like railway trains, it would certainly be more convenient for all of us.” ~The Valley of Fear

  Colin straightened his tie for what must have been the fifth time and looked out the window of their first-class compartment. The train had not yet departed, as there was some mechanical delay, although they’d been assured that everything was “perfectly safe” and they’d be on their way soon. Colin had yet to travel on a train that hadn’t had a mechanical delay of some sort. He suspected it was more the case that the engineer was simply not a prompt fellow.

  Amelia sat next to him reading the latest Sherlock Holmes story. Only after several suggestions from him that she find something to do to occupy her time, something other than ask him endless questions. He needed quiet to think. Time to force his mind to focus on the case and the true purpose of the trip.

  And talking to her required him to look at her, which, in turn, did nothing to encourage his intentions to keep his hands off of her. Not to mention looking in that direction would give him a clear view of her gloves and their eight glorious buttons. Although, if he closed his eyes now, he could see them clearly in his mind.

  He knew he could not put her off forever and eventually they would share some conversation, but for now he needed the solitude.

  The train chugged forward, and then the conductor stepped into their car to announce that all was well and the short delay should not effect their arrival time. All was well, the conductor had said. But Colin couldn’t help but disagree. All was not well.

  Something was amiss. He could feel it. And he suspected the source of his unease was sitting mere inches away. He could smell her sweet- sce
nted hair and he wanted to lean closer and inhale deeply. Etch the scent forever in his memory, for one day soon they’d part company, and her memory would be all he would have.

  Ever since that last kiss, on the piano, he’d been struggling as to whether or not this trip was the best plan. On one hand, it might lead them to the end of this case. On the other, it was a risk for them to be together. He should have refused her insistence to accompany him and left her at home. He nearly laughed. She would never have agreed, or she would have followed him. This way he could at least look out for her safety.

  Well, her safety from others. From himself, he wasn’t completely convinced.

  He was not so certain he could trust himself with her at this point. He’d touched her one too many times. Tasted her passionate kisses more than he should. He knew what temptation sat next to him, and resisting her for the next two days would be extremely difficult.

  The train picked up speed as they made their way through London. No turning back now. He glanced over at her, and she looked up from her magazine as if she’d felt his stare. She smiled at him.

  “Isn’t this exciting?” she asked.

  “The train?” he asked dumbly.

  “The train. The trip. The possibility of solving our case and returning Nefertiti to my father. It’s all very exciting, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I don’t know that I would say I’m excited.”

  She squinted at him. “Do you ever get excited? Don’t you ever get that fluttering feeling in your stomach?”

  “I suppose. But probably not in the same way you do. We express it differently.”

  She gave him a playful grin. “Correct. I express mine, and you do not.”

  He released a full laugh. “I suppose that might be true,” he said, still smiling.

  She just sat staring at him, mouth agape and eyes wide.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You really ought to laugh more often.”

  “Yes, well, you caught me off guard with that one. And I laugh enough.”

  “No, not enough. It’s a nice, pleasant sound. And laughter is infectious.”

  “Similar to yawns,” he said.

  She smiled. “Only better.”

  “Well, just as a yawn only comes when one is sleepy, I only laugh when I’m amused.”

  “Perhaps I will continue to be so amusing, so that you will laugh on a more regular basis.”

  “You think you have that in you?”

  “I shall dig around and see. I do enjoy a good challenge.”

  He realized with a start that he was flirting. Something he never did. Something he’d probably never done in this life. It came rather easily with her. A bit of playful banter, a few well-placed smiles.

  Perfect. She was turning him into a suitor.

  But he enjoyed the ease with which he could talk to her. Not to mention her genuine curiosity regarding his research. Were it not for the intense desire he had for her, he’d consider her his first friend since leaving the schoolroom.

  “Do you read the Times?” she asked.

  “Yes. There is always a bit of information to be found in those pages.”

  She smiled. “That’s what I’ve always said.” She turned her body to face him more. “So have you been following the Jack of Hearts incidents?”

  “The jewel thief?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She clapped her hands. “Isn’t he fascinating?”

  He almost smiled. He should have guessed that Amelia would find him fascinating. No doubt romantic. “You don’t consider him a common thief?” he asked.

  “Oh, no. He’s very exciting. And so clever and bold. Not many common thieves would be so daring as to enter a private theater box.”

  “I suppose that could be true.”

  “The girls and I, or rather the Society—I must remember to refer to us appropriately—have been tracking his incidents. At least the ones they’ve reported in the paper. It is difficult to investigate when one doesn’t have the entire story.”

  “I can see how that would be difficult.” He suppressed a smile. She was rather adorable at times. The fact that he thought so was disturbing. He did not think anything was adorable. Not even Othello. Speaking of which, he certainly hoped that Amelia’s friend was responsible enough to care for the bloody cat while Colin was gone. As much of a nuisance as he was at times, he’d hate to lose the creature.

  “Are you certain Othello will be well cared for?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes, Willow is very responsible. So far he seems only to be striking events in London,” she continued.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “The Jack of Hearts.”

  “Oh, right.” She was still discussing him, apparently.

  “Wouldn’t it be exciting were he to be on this train?” She looked around as if searching for him.

  Colin did not feel excited. Instead he felt rather annoyed that this masked thief aroused such interest in Amelia. She craved mystery and adventure, two activities Colin neither could, nor wanted to, provide her.

  Now that she realized he wasn’t the real Sherlock Holmes, he held no intrigue for her. They ought to solve this case soon, before her inevitable boredom bruised his pride. He’d hate to see her look upon him without her usual excitement. Aside from her smile, it was the most becoming thing about her.

  It was as she described laughter—infectious. Being around her only made him want to be around her more. She was like a drink, and he a drunkard who could never get his fill.

  “Colin?” she asked softly.

  “Right. I don’t think it wise that you hope for a thief to come and steal all your trinkets, despite the adventure that might ensue.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders dropped and she looked down at her lap. Straightening her skirts, she said, “I suppose you’re right. Sometimes I simply don’t think things through.”

  He’d made her feel a total fool. He could see it in the defeated look on her face. He had come in and stomped on her fantasy like a big angry beast. He tried to think of something to soothe her feelings, but the fact of the matter was he believed what he said. It was foolish to fantasize about situations that could put you in danger—a waste of time. He would not lie to her. Even to save her feelings.

  “Do you have your list of questions for the antiquities dealer?” he asked her, hoping the changed subject would help her mood.

  She turned to him and nodded. “I do hope this is the lead we’ve been waiting for. Papa is becoming increasingly more impatient. And there is little I can do to calm him.”

  “I cannot promise I’ll get Nefertiti back to your father, but I do promise I will solve this case,” he said.

  “Thank you, Colin. I know you mean that.”

  They sat in silence for a while as the train left London. Rolling green hills flanked each side of the train.

  It wasn’t long before Amelia struck up a conversation with the aged woman seated next to her. They visited for a few moments, and Colin was starting to enjoy some solitude when something caught his attention.

  “Yes, my husband and I,” Amelia said, “are leaving town for a short visit.”

  Husband? Was she referring to him?

  Who else could she be referring to? Splendid. Simply splendid.

  He rolled his eyes. Clearly she’d misunderstood him when he’d told her they’d be traveling under the same name to protect her reputation. There was no repairing this situation. The old woman would simply have to believe they were husband and wife, else he’d risk ruining Amelia’s reputation, or at least embarrassing her. He only hoped this train ride was the last they’d see of the woman.

  A husband and wife would have to share a room at the inn. He nearly groaned out loud. He was already steeling his nerves to resist touching her.

  For the remainder of the trip, he’d have to be the one to introduce them to people. They were to be traveling as siblings. That was just as believable. And much safer. He should have been more specific when detai
ling that part of the plan.

  The old lady nodded off and Amelia was once again left to her own devices. She retrieved a stack of parchment from her bag along with a pencil. After a few nibbles on the side of the pencil, she began to write something. Two sheets of paper later and Colin found his interest considerably piqued.

  “What are you working on?” he asked.

  “My book.”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “This is my book.” She patted the stack of paper on her lap. “I’ve been working on it for a few weeks.”

  “You write?”

  She bobbed her head, then her brow wrinkled. “I don’t know if I’m very good, but I’m working on it.”

  How had he not known this about her? She knew all about his research. And then it occurred to him that regardless of Amelia’s talkative nature, she rarely volunteered information about herself. Others, yes, but not often herself. And he, being the idiot he was, never inquired. Rather rude of him.

  “What sort of book are you writing?” he asked. And he was interested. Truly and honestly interested.

  She smiled. “It is an adventure story.”

  “Similar to Sherlock?” he asked with a frown.

  “Not exactly. My detective, if you will, is Lady Catherine Shadows. She is vastly clever, but quite different from Sherlock.”

  “A woman protagonist. I’ll say she’s different.”

  “Is that wrong?”

  He shrugged. “Not necessarily. If you want an inferior detective.”

  She sat straighter and pointed her pencil at him. “You believe that a male detective is superior to a female? Am I not more clever than Watson?”

  “First of all, having not read the Sherlock stories, I am not familiar with Watson. But if I am not mistaken, he is not a detective, is he?”

  Her lips pursed. “Not precisely.”

  “Secondly, he is fictional, and you are flesh and blood—that automatically makes you superior.”