Page 81 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

“It won’t have been news to him. He’d have already heard of our marriage from Mr. Glyde.”

Helena looked troubled, but there was no time to discuss the matter. The stationmaster was already calling out the first warning for the London train. At the sound of his shout, they began making their way toward the first-class railway carriage.

Mrs. Bray and her daughter were still standing on the platform. Justin tipped his hat to them as they passed.

He’d always imagined that if he encountered them again, he’d feel the same storm of emotion he’d felt as a child. The same sense of helpless rage at the injustice of his situation. Now, in their presence, he was obliged to acknowledge a hard truth.

The old hurt at how they’d treated him was gone. Even the longing he’d had as a boy, the deep desire to be included in their family, had faded away to nothing. They were just two silly females. Strangers, really. And yet…

The anger still remained.

He was reluctant to let it go. He’d nursed old grievances for far too long. They’d been his guiding light since his childhood. His impetus for bettering himself, for accumulating his modest fortune. Without them, he had a sense that he’d become unmoored. Lost in a great pit of nothingness.

“What a peculiar pair of women,” Helena said once they’d settled across from each other on the train.

Their compartment was paneled in rich, dark wood. The floor was carpeted and there were parcel racks installed above the upholstered seats. It was a level of luxury reserved for first-class carriages, and only then for those on newer trains.

“By peculiar, I assume you mean odious,” he said.

“I’d certainly never say that.” A suppressed laugh vibrated in her voice. The sound of it made Justin smile.

He liked to think he could make her laugh. He didn’t much care how he accomplished it. “You don’t have to. I’ll say it.”

Helena untied her bonnetstrings. “Have they always been so unpleasant?”

“I confess, they seemed more so in my youth.” Justin dropped his tall beaver hat on the seat cushion beside him. “They never looked at me, did you notice? Not if they could help it.”

“They seemed rather fascinated with my honorific.”

“They were. But it wasn’t only that.” Justin ran a hand over his rumpled hair. At his right side, elegant fabric shades with tassel pulls were drawn up to reveal newly washed windows. He could see his reflection within the glass. The sight of it made him grimace. “It’s the burn scars.”

“Nonsense,” Helena said. “One hardly notices them.”

She removed her bonnet. Her hair was parted in the center, the bulk of it drawn back into an oversized roll at her nape. A few curling strands had worked loose at her temples and cheek. She smoothed them back into her coiffure with an expert hand.

His own hand clenched at his side. She was achingly lovely; imbuing even the most commonplace tasks with an elegance and femininity that made his heart beat faster.

“You noticed them,” he said. “The day we met in King’s Abbot.”

She made a dismissive sound. “For precisely five seconds. Such things fade away when you get to know a person.”

“Do they?”

“In my experience.” She straightened her skirts. “Do the scars bother you so much?”

“Sometimes, when they pull or ache. But the appearance of them…no. I never much cared how they looked until the day you arrived.”

Her brows lifted. “What on earth have I to do with it?”

“I feared they would put you off.”

She gave him a look of gentle reproof. “You were afraid you repulsed me. That’s what you said at the inn.”

Good God, had he? “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

She rested her hands in her lap. She was still wearing her gloves. They were made of fine kidskin, secured at her wrists with delicate, pearl-sized buttons. “I nearly told you the truth that day, did you know that? About my uncle and Mr. Glyde.”

“I wish you would have.”