Page 47 of The Governess and the Rogue

“And his older brother, Viscount St. Clare,” Mrs. Rawson continued. “Always perfectly attired, down to the diamond pin in his neckcloth.”

“You might consider purchasing your trousseau here in France,” Miss Farraday suggested to Bea. “My mother and I, and Mrs. Rawson, will be stopping in Paris. If you joined us, you could have some new dresses made before you meet Lord and Lady Allendale.”

“An excellent idea,” Mrs. Rawson said. “No lady with the least sensibility can tolerate an overnight journey on a train with no sleeper carriage. You would have to sleep sitting up—a wretched state of affairs. No, my dear. Far better you should break your journey in Paris. I shall take you to the shops myself. I’m sure Mrs. Farraday would be happy to entertain Colonel Beresford in your absence.”

“It would be my distinct pleasure,” Mrs. Farraday said. Her eyes were fixed on Bea with all the subtlety of a hunting hawk eying a wayward mouse.

Bea extricated her arm from Mrs. Rawson’s grasp. “You are all very kind,” she said. “But I’m afraid Colonel Beresford and I haven’t the time to stop in Paris. We plan on traveling straight through to Calais.”

Even if that meant traveling straight through the night. Even if it meant sleeping sitting up.

“Plans can be changed,” Mrs. Farraday said.

Pearl flashed Bea an encouraging look. Yes, do stop in Paris, it seemed to say. Remain with us a little longer. Enjoy your new position to the utmost.

The guilty weight in Bea’s chest grew heavier still.

What would Pearl think if she knew that Bea’s present position was, in fact, almost identical to her former one? Indeed, it was worse, for then she’d had a job and now she had none. Unless one counted her role as Jack’s fake fiancée as employment. And it couldn’t be, for there was no payment involved.

Bea swallowed the acrid taste in her mouth. Across the platform, Jack finished his conversation with Captain Thornhill, and headed toward her. They were so near to the end of this ruse. She had only to stay the course a little longer. “These plans can’t, regrettably,” she said. “As I’m sure Colonel Beresford can tell you.”

Jack approached with a questioning smile. “What can I tell you, ladies?”

“Miss Layton claims that you haven’t the time to stop over in Paris,” Mrs. Rawson replied. “Though we’ve been making every effort to persuade her.”

“Miss Layton is correct,” Jack said. “I’m anxious to see my family, and to get back to my estate. Paris will have to wait.”

Mrs. Rawson smiled broadly. “Your family will be equally eager to see you, I’m sure. And to meet Miss Layton.”

Bea took refuge in silence, occupying herself with smoothing her skirts and adjusting her mantle. She told herself that she was glad she wouldn’t have to meet Jack’s family. If they were all truly so beautiful and fashionable, they’d surely have no great tolerance for her and her shortcomings.

“Indeed,” Jack said. He caught Bea’s eye. “I have our tickets, and the luggage has all been loaded. If you’re quite ready? The train will be leaving shortly, and we’ve a long journey ahead of us.”

“Yes, of course.” Bea accepted his proffered arm.

Pearl remained behind, cradling Benjamin against her chest. She gave Bea a small, parting smile.

Bea smiled in return, silently renewing her promise to write to Pearl.

“I will pray that you’ll change your mind,” Mrs. Rawson called after them. “It’s a long way to Paris.”

“A very long way,” Mrs. Farraday echoed. “Much can happen between now and then.”

Chapter Sixteen

“I’m not changing my mind,” Jack said the moment they were safely ensconced in their compartment. He and Bea were alone, with Maberly having been relegated to a lower-class carriage along with the servants of the other first-class passengers.

“I’m aware,” Bea said.

Jack set his cane down against the seat beside him. He was feeling a trifle gray around the gills. Too much time on that dratted ship, he suspected. And too much time spent putting weight on his leg since they’d arrived in Marseilles. He was meant to exercise it, not push it past the bounds of all bearing. His knee and calf were throbbing.

It hadn’t helped that he’d stood on the platform for far too long trying to talk sense into Captain Thornhill.

A useless proposition.

Thornhill had rejected all Jack’s offers of assistance. He’d also rather rudely declined Jack’s invitation to join him and Bea in their compartment. The man was unrelentingly stubborn about maintaining his solitude. He had a private compartment of his own, a valet to see to his needs, and a hired groom looking after his horse. It was more than sufficient, or so he claimed.

Jack had been loath to believe him. He knew only too well how traumatic injuries could color one’s perspective. The idea of any soldier suffering as Thornhill likely was didn’t sit well with Jack. His mood wasn’t very congenial as a result.