Page 31 of A Modest Independence

“I’m not one of your legal problems, Tom. I’m a person. Your friend, or so you claim.”

He leaned forward. “You are my friend. Which is precisely why I couldn’t permit you to traipse halfway round the world unaccompanied. Anything might have happened to you, Jenny. Anything.”

She exhaled. “I know that. I even accept that you were right to some degree. But that’s all beside the point.”

“Forgive me, I seem to have lost the point. If you agree that having servants accompany you was the right thing to do, then what the devil are we arguing about?”

“About the fact that you went behind my back. That you maneuvered me like a token on a board. And then…” Her cheeks flushed with heat. “You let me say those things.”

He looked stricken. “Good God, Jenny, do you think I knew you were going to say anything like that?”

“I only said it because I thought I was never going to see you again.”

He gave a sudden huff. “Well, if that isn’t the most illogical thing I’ve ever heard.”

She bristled. “What’s illogical about it?”

“If you have a longing for a fellow, you don’t confess it five seconds before bidding him goodbye forever. You don’t leave him standing on Dover pier like a—”

“I never said I longed for you. I only admitted to a pang—”

“Of longing.”

“Oh, what difference does it make? It was a ridiculous thing to have said. Had I known you were coming with me, I’d never have mentioned it at all. I’d have taken these dratted pangs or whatever they are—and that kiss I gave you—straight to my grave.”

Tom’s mouth hitched in a reluctant smile. “If that’s truly the case, then I’m glad you didn’t know.”

Jenny’s heart skipped a beat—or several. That lopsided smile of his did unsettling things to her constitution. It made her feel breathless and quivery and quite unlike herself. She wasn’t at all sure she cared for the sensation.

She turned her gaze to the window until she regained her composure. It was raining out, the French countryside passing by in a blur of gray skies and brown winter landscape. “Why did you come with me? You needn’t have. Not now I’ve got Ahmad and Mira.” She shot him a narrow look. “And don’t say it was to keep me safe or to help me find Giles. We both know that’s nothing but convenient flummery.”

“It also happens to be the truth. Though, I’ll admit those concerns weren’t at the forefront of my mind when I first made the decision to accompany you.”

“What, then?”

“It was an impulse, initially.”

“Rubbish. You’re not impulsive.”

“Not generally, no. But when I woke in the parlor at Half Moon Street, I realized that I had to go with you. It was a feeling more than a thought. Nothing particularly logical about it.”

She stared at him. “Do you mean…you only made the decision to accompany me yesterday morning?”

“I told you it was an impulse. A powerful one, too. I got straight up from the sofa and took myself off to book my passage and arrange for my travel documents.”

“My goodness, that was impulsive. And quite unlike you. I can’t think what could have prompted such rash behavior.” Her brows drew together in concern. “I trust it wasn’t Mrs. Culpepper’s visit.”

“It wasn’t Mrs. Culpepper.”

“Then why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” A faint flush appeared high on his cheekbones. “Perhaps I’ve been having a similar pang to the one you described in Dover.”

The train rattled noisily along the track through acres of rain-soaked pastures, forests, and vineyards. But in the first-class compartment where Jenny sat across from Tom Finchley, the passing French landscape, the jolt of the brakes, and the sounds of the whistle and the hissing steam all faded from her awareness. She heard nothing, saw nothing, but him.

His words sent a shockwave through her body, stunning her as surely as a shock from one of those newfangled electrical machines she’d lately had experience with. She went perfectly still; her gloved hands clasped tight in her lap. Even her breath seemed to have stopped. “Do you mean to say that you have feelings for me?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”