In Pursuit of a Scandalous Lady

by Gayle Callen

  At last the father of the little family, Mr. Seymour, struck up a conversation with the earl about the expansion of the railways, and Rebecca felt a bit of her tension ease. She huddled within her cloak, wishing she had a rug across her lap as each member of the little family did. It was always so drafty on a train.

  Within the next hour, after several brief stops at railway stations in Middlesex and Hertfordshire, the little children, a boy and a girl, became bored with the countryside and their confinement and began to pick fights with each other. At one stop, the Seymour family’s maid came up from second class to bring them sandwiches and beverages from the dining car. That helped occupy the children. After a while, Rebecca couldn’t conceal that a maid wasn’t traveling with her, for no one brought her food. Mrs. Seymour offered to share, but Rebecca declined politely.

  Always Lord Parkhurst was watching her, smiling as if she amused him.

  As if he had her right where he wanted her.

  She shivered. Hadn’t she wanted a grand adventure? How much more adventurous could a sheltered lady be? She was being chased by three men; she was wearing a valuable jewel around her neck; she had no idea where she was going, or what she would do to elude the thieves.

  And she was facing a large, powerful man who looked at her as if he could eat her up.

  She was almost cowering against the window. That had to stop. Rolling her shoulders for a moment, she repositioned her legs, wishing she could stretch them out. But that would be right between Lord Parkhurst’s legs. Lifting her chin, she met his gaze, then straightened her stiff limbs anyway. He arched a brow, a smile playing on his mouth, but he made no physical response as she invaded his territory.

  The little boy, perhaps five, chose that moment to have a tantrum that his red-faced mother could not hush. He seemed to forget where he was as he ducked away from his mother, then tripped over Lord Parkhurst’s legs. The boy fell right between Rebecca and the earl, and as they both leaned forward to help him, their heads banged together. She straightened, hand to her head to readjust her hat even as the earl came up with the boy in his big hands. Lord Parkhurst surely didn’t notice their collision, while she felt as if she’d hit a great big rock.

  “Oh my!” said Mrs. Seymour, wringing her hands together. “My lord, I am so sorry!”

  To Rebecca’s surprise, Lord Parkhurst put the boy on his knee and gestured out his window.

  “It doesn’t look much different on this side of the train, does it?” he said soothingly. “We’re passing through the Chilterns now. Do you know what they are?”

  Rebecca gaped—along with Mr. and Mrs. Seymour—as his lordship held a conversation about the chalk hills with a five-year-old. The man had no children of his own. He’d been seeing to the business of his title for almost ten years. Had he made time for his brothers and sisters? She wouldn’t have thought so, with the tension she sensed between him and his twin brothers.

  Could a man who so easily conversed with a child be involved with the thief who’d kidnapped her today? What was she supposed to do with him—and the other two men whom she’d seen waiting for her to disembark at each station?

  Julian watched as Rebecca’s stiff, tense body finally yielded to sleep. They’d been traveling almost three hours, and they hadn’t had a conversation yet. She hadn’t left the train, not even for a moment’s privacy in a railway station. She had to be hungry—he certainly was. What was the point of her behavior, if she were simply fleeing London and the wager?

  He still couldn’t erase the image from his mind of how frightened she’d looked when she’d first seen him at the station. Something had changed—and he hated being ignorant of it. He was a man who left nothing to chance, even if it was the smallest business decision. He over-researched everything. And now he was turning that focus on Rebecca Leland. He knew she was cold, the drafts going up her skirt, but too proud to ask for help—or to purchase a lap rug at a station.

  More than once, he’d seen her hand go unconsciously to her bodice, fingering something beneath her cloak. She hadn’t worn the diamond to Lady Thurlow’s reception; why should he believe she’d donned it for the journey?

  Because he always trusted his instincts.

  At last they reached a railway station in Warwick-shire, and the entire Seymour family temporarily departed, leaving their cloaks and gloves behind. Rebecca looked out the window, her expression pensive.

  He folded his arms over his chest. “So where are you going without a maid?”

  Her gaze shot to him, cool—but a touch hesitant. Was he about to hear something resembling the truth?

  “You followed me,” she said in a low voice.

  “I do not take wagers lightly. And you deliberately led me on with your talk of a journey. You wanted me to follow you.”

  She took a breath, then leaned toward him, eyes suddenly earnest. “You’re not the only one following me.”

  He went still, staring at her, taking her measure. Was this a game, part of some plan to keep all her secrets hidden?

  But then she glanced out the window, and her face paled. Could she be telling the truth? He thought again of how she’d gone in the front entrance of Madingley House, leaving a carriage waiting, then emerged from the rear, driving as fast as she could in traffic.

  “Are you with them?” she asked, gesturing with her head out the window.

  He looked past her. The platform was crowded but, after a moment, he realized most people were milling about, stretching their legs, or walking briskly to and from the station.

  But two roughly dressed men stood alone, unmoving near the first-class carriages. And they were looking right into Julian and Rebecca’s compartment.

  He arched a brow. “How long have they been following you?” Someone else must have made the connection between the painting, the diamond, and Rebecca. Did she even realize what was going on?

  Or perhaps the heirs to the maharajah, who’d given the Scandalous Lady to his father, had never let their interest in the diamond die.

  She studied him. “You do not even ask if I’m making things up, or letting my feminine nerves get the best of me. I cannot tell if it’s because you’re treating me as a responsible adult—or because you already know they’re following me.”

  “You’re accusing me of being in league with them,” he said calmly, wanting to take offense, but not wanting to frighten her into silence. “Why ever would you believe such a thing?”

  She linked her hands in her lap, and he had to be impressed by the cool way she faced this situation.

  “Aren’t all of you following me?” she asked with sarcasm.

  He gave her a faint smile. “You have a point. But you know why I’m following you. Do you have any knowledge of those two men?”

  She hesitated, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Then she seemed to make a decision, for she let out her breath and said, “One of them was hiding inside my carriage when I left the reception.”

  He straightened. “Are you well?” he asked in a harsh voice.

  She blinked at him. “Don’t I look well?”

  “You’re proud enough to hide what you wish to. Answer my question.”

  “I’m well,” she said, still looking at him as if surprised.

  “Tell me everything he did from the moment you entered the carriage.”

  So she recited her afternoon adventure, step by step, and Julian’s anger increased with each revelation. She acted as if the diamond she’d worn was hardly worth this kind of determination.

  “You didn’t see the second man earlier?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Not until just before we boarded. If you didn’t bring the thief with you—”

  He actually emitted a growl, surprising himself and startling her.

  Quickly, she continued, “Then he had to have traveled to the station with that second man.”

  “And you simply boarded the train, rather than go to the authorities,” he said with disbelief.

  �
��And what would you have me say?” she asked coolly. “‘Yes, Officer, I was wearing the aforementioned diamond when I posed nude. Shall I show the painting to you, so you can parade it before all of London?’”

  Of course she wouldn’t have thought of her own safety—only the scandal of it all, and what it would do to her family.

  She’d been protecting her family by leading the thieves away from Madingley House. He didn’t want to admire her right now, not when he was still furious that she’d put herself in worse danger.

  “Did you have any plan at all?” he demanded, spreading his hands wide.

  She lifted her chin. “I would have thought of one. But you kept distracting me.”

  He let that curious idea go without comment. He rubbed a hand down his face.

  “Your friends are returning,” she suddenly said, her body stiff.

  He saw the Seymours escorting their children toward the train.

  “We won’t be able to talk,” he said swiftly. “I’ll remove you from this situation. Be ready—and for God’s sake, do whatever I say, immediately, with no questions asked.”

  He could see her bristling, like a cat with its fur standing on end. But she pinched her mouth into a straight line and said nothing as the compartment door opened and the family piled back in.

  Lord Parkhurst had actually fallen asleep. Rebecca stared at him, dismayed and angry, as the train chugged closer and closer to Birmingham, where she’d be forced to disembark to change railways.

  That is if she continued to head north, as her ticket permitted her to. She might have once planned to lead the earl to Great-aunt Rianette, but she didn’t want two thieves tagging along.

  Part of her longed to stand up, to ease her bodily discomforts, to quiet her gurgling stomach. Lord Parkhurst had to be just as uncomfortable—but he was sleeping, his deep-set eyes closed, the tension gone from his frame.

  If she could have woken him with her angry stare, he’d have a smoking hole between his eyes.

  What did he have in mind? She wanted to be a part of his decision-making—not dragged about like a helpless girl.

  She wasn’t helpless; she’d outwitted a thief who’d threatened to harm her family.

  “Do you know his lordship, miss?”

  Startled, Rebecca glanced to her side, at the mother who held her sleeping daughter in her lap. They’d sat practically shoulder to shoulder for several hours, and Mrs. Seymour had at first seemed to realize that Rebecca wasn’t in a talkative mood.

  Rebecca was about to claim a mere acquaintanceship with the earl and turn back to her window, when she suddenly realized that she had in her hands the ability to control what people thought of her—should someone ever question her presence on the train.

  And she was still simmering with irritation that Lord Parkhurst held all the power, while she was helpless to do anything other than allow him to save her. It grated on her.

  Rebecca smiled at Mrs. Seymour. “We are acquainted, ma’am. But…it is difficult for Lord Parkhurst and me to talk. He’s still angry because I rejected his suit.”

  The woman gasped. “Why would you reject an earl?”

  Rebecca noticed that Lord Parkhurst did not seem quite so relaxed. Had he been sleeping at all, or merely dozing? Why would he do so, unless to make her angry? Well, then, he’d succeeded.

  Rebecca dropped her voice, even though she knew he would certainly hear her whisper. “He’s not a very romantic sort, ma’am. A woman needs flowers and courtship. He seemed to think that his wealth alone would have me begging for marriage.”

  Mrs. Seymour spoke doubtfully. “Then you are a better woman than most. You do not seem to be traveling together,” she added.

  “We’re not. But I think he realized the error of his ways, and now he’s trying to pursue me.”

  “You’d think he’d try a bit harder. He hasn’t even spoken to you.”

  Rebecca sighed. “Do you see what I mean? He’s rather dense.”

  The train hit an uneven part of the track, jolting them all, and Lord Parkhurst obviously used that opportunity to pretend to awaken.

  He smiled at them. “Did I sleep? Hope I didn’t embarrass myself.”

  “You drooled dreadfully,” Rebecca said in a sweet voice. “I could not possibly marry a man who drooled.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Seymour stared between them, eyes wide. Rebecca imagined they didn’t think anyone would ever be so forward with an earl.

  And then Lord Parkhurst leaned near and gripped her hands urgently. “My dearest, how can you tease me so, knowing how I feel about you?”

  So he didn’t mind her playacting, and committed himself to it. His hands were so large, so strong. He could do anything he wanted to her, now that they were away from London. It was strange how that hadn’t occurred to her when she was making plans to lure him away and win the wager.

  But now she needed him to escape two others who might be worse—might, she reminded herself.

  “Come, Lord Parkhurst, you’re embarrassing yourself,” she said coolly.

  The little girl had woken up and now contently sucked her thumb, staring at them from her mother’s lap.

  “I cannot think of embarrassment, my dear, not when our future is at stake.” He glanced apologetically at the Seymours. “But I imagine we shouldn’t talk about this now.”

  “Why? They might have very good opinions,” she said, batting her lashes at him. “After all, they’re married.”

  This was certainly a better distraction than wondering how she was going to escape two determined thieves. In fact, she felt positively amused.

  But Lord Parkhurst gave her hands another squeeze and sat back. “No, my dear, I’ll have a chance to plead my case when we arrive.”

  “That is romantic,” Mrs. Seymour said shyly.

  Lord Parkhurst bestowed the full force of his grin on the poor woman, who blushed from the roots of her hair to the base of her neck.

  Rebecca sighed, and for the next half hour, was forced to put up with the earl “courting” her by nudging her feet. Surely they were presenting the Seymours with a fine show.

  The train slowed at Coventry, only a few stops from Birmingham. The Seymours said their good-byes, for this was their destination.

  Then Rebecca and the earl were left alone. She waited for him to rebuke her—or perhaps laugh at her antics—but he was concentrating on the view of the platform outside the window.

  She glanced that way, saw the two thieves, and gave a soft groan.

  “Prepare yourself,” he said quietly.

  She perked up. “What do you mean to do? That was the whistle, we’re departing.”

  He nodded, then lowered his window and leaned his head out. Smoke seeped in, and she resisted the urge to cough, blinking her stinging eyes.

  “Will you close that before we can’t breathe?”

  But it was still another minute before he closed the window and said, “Our interested friends are back in their carriage. They can’t see us. Let’s go.”

  She gasped, for the train jerked and slowly began to move. But she gamely reached for the door handle toward the platform.

  “Not that one. We don’t want the world knowing we’ve left.”

  He opened the opposite door, which led to the right side of the track—in the dangerous area between the up and down railway lines.

  “But—there’s no platform!” she cried. “We’re starting to move too fast.”

  He had the door open and his foot on the single stair below. He reached for her. “We need to jump—now!”

  Chapter 7

  Rebecca felt like she was flying. It wasn’t that long a fall, but the fact that the train was moving made everything worse. She stumbled and landed hard onto her stomach, rolling several times. Her cloak became entangled around her, and with a gasp she yanked it away from her face. Lord Parkhurst dragged her to her feet and to the far side of a shed between the rail lines.

  Breathing heavily, her heart pounding, she waited wi
th her eyes closed as the train picked up speed. Her whole body seemed to vibrate, and a fierce wind ruffled her skirts. She was still clutching the earl’s hand, and she didn’t let go.

  At last the noise and rumbling lessened, and she slowly opened her eyes. Lord Parkhurst was beside her, his back to the shed. With a gasp she looked across the other track to the northwest, from where another train could have arrived.

  He gave a soft laugh. “It’s a good thing I’d already checked if another train was in the distance. We might have been swept under the wheels.”

  She yanked her hand away.

  His amusement faded, and he looked down her body. “Are you injured? You have a scrape on your face.”

  He gently touched her cheek. She ducked away from his hand. Her cloak was still thrown back over one shoulder, and to her dismay, the delicate yellow silk of her gown was torn in several places, and filthy in many others. She could see her hair tumbling down around her shoulders. Her hat was crushed on the ground. Frustrated, she yanked closed her cloak, noticing that the earl looked unscathed.

  “I am fine.” Then she coughed. The air was foul with the smell of the train, and she started to move away from the shed.

  “Wait.”

  His voice was a command to be obeyed, and she imagined he was used to giving orders. Begrudgingly, she waited while he looked around the corner of the shed, toward the platform.

  “Do you see the thieves?” she asked.

  “No. I’m certain they never left the train.”

  “Well, they certainly thought we stayed on it,” she said dryly. “We took quite the risk of being pulled beneath the wheels.”

  “It was moving slow enough. We were safe.”

  They looked at each other, and for a moment, she wondered if she was really safe at all. But it was too late to have doubts. She ran her hands through her hair, slipping the remainder of the pins into her reticule. She found weeds caught in her curls, and even a bit of gravel. But she finger-combed it as best she could.

  “If we’re lucky,” he said, “the thieves will believe we jumped from the train on our arrival at the next station. It may take them days of searching before they realize their error.”