Page 54 of Tempting the Scoundrel
Still looking worried, Sofia nodded. “Very well. My thanks.”
After exchanging goodbyes, Alexandra and Thorne exited the orphanage. The East End had come fully awake in the short time Thorne had been in the orphanage. In the distance he heard men and women hawking their wares, the hum of machinery from the workhouses. He looked at Alexandra, wondering what she thought of the noise. For Thorne, these were the sounds of home. She had grown up in quiet Hampshire. Thorne still remembered the silence of the country, how restless it made him. How Alex had filled that space in his heart that longed for a home.
And how he’d squandered it.
Wordlessly, Alex started down the street—in the opposite direction of the Brimstone. Thorne caught up to her. “The Brimstone is back that way.”
Without looking at him, Alex continued on. “It’s a shorter distance to hire a hack this way, and I need to make two stops.”
He nodded in understanding. “Your sources?”
“Yes. First St Giles, then Mayfair.” Alex hailed a hack, gave the driver the first address, and settled across from Thorne. With a soft sigh, she looked out the window. “I’m worried they’re already dead.”
Thorne didn’t know how to comfort her with words. After a brief hesitation, he reached over and gently took her gloved hand. To his surprise and relief, she threaded her fingers through his. Four years since he’d held her hand like this. Four long years.
His thumb brushed across her wrist. Even covered with leather, he felt the heat of her. He longed to slide his fingertips along her cheeks, press his lips to the curve of her neck where she liked it most. But this was the touch she allowed, and he would be content. He would ask for nothing more than she was willing to give.
“You didn’t tell the children the rest of our story,” Thorne said.
Alex stared down at their joined hands, watching as his thumb moved across her palm now. “How should I have ended it, then?”
“You might have said that he held her in his arms for four days. For four blissful days, they travelled up north and back, and he woke up with her in his arms. But when she smiled and called herself Lady Locke, he didn’t correct her and tell her that name was a lie.”
Something constricted in her features, a pain mirrored inside him. “The name might have been a lie, but what I felt for Lord Locke was real,” she said. As the carriage rolled to a stop, she pulled her hand out of his, and took all the warmth with her. “Let the children have the happy ending, Nick. It’s better than the one we got.”
Chapter 17
Stratfield Saye, Hampshire. Four years ago.
Alexandra bit her lip and stared out the window of the private rail cabin. The scenery flew by, but Alexandra hardly noticed the change in landscape as the train travelled north.
That morning had given her little opportunity to think. As the early light colored the sky a beautiful hue of pink, Alexandra packed a single valise and escaped out her window. She met Nick’s carriage at the end of the drive, and they made the hours long journey to London. The train from London to Carlisle had been their only option at the office, which would necessitate a secondary carriage to Dumfriesshire, where the only men available on such short notice to perform weddings were the blacksmiths in Gretna Green.
Now that they were on the train, with nothing but time ahead of them, nerves made Alexandra’s heart race. Nick had been quiet since their dash from Stratfield Saye to London. It had been five days since their kiss. Five days for him to make arrangements that he hadn’t explained to her.
Had it been long enough to waver his regard for her? For him to regret his choice?
Alexandra studied him. Nick was dressed elegantly, in a trim dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and flat belly. At first, his casual posture had seemed relaxed, but now she noticed the tension in his hands as he gripped his hat and tapped it against his thigh.
Say something, she mentally urged him.Look at me. Kiss me. Anything.
The train rocked. Just outside their car, she heard the soft laughter of passengers elsewhere in the rail car. If they were to pass the door of Alexandra and Nick’s cabin and press their ear to the wood, they might think it empty.
Fidgeting with her dusty travel dress, Alexandra cleared her throat. “Should we be worried about Scottish law for weddings? Twenty-one days’ residence prior to nuptials?”
Nick didn’t even glance at her. He continued to watch the scenery with an unreadable expression. “If I pay the blacksmith enough, he’ll say we were born and raised in Scotland.”
Their cabin fell silent once more. Nick tapped with his hat again.Tap. Tap. Tap.Somewhere in the rail car, glasses clinked. More laughter.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Will we live at your house in Stratfield Saye?” Alexandra asked, trying a different tack now. Maybe discussing their future might draw him out. “Or somewhere else? Perhaps we could buy another . . .” He’d turned to look at her now, some burning intensity in his gaze. Anger? Alexandra flushed. They had not discussed his finances, but her father had remarked on Baron Locke’s near-empty coffers. “I have money, Nick,” she told him. “My mother put it in a trust to ensure my father could never withhold a dowry. I can access it upon marriage.”
His jaw tightened. “Let’s not discuss this now.”
“Very well.” Alexandra’s voice was soft.
She watched him cross his legs, as if to draw himself further away from her in the small space. The repetitive tapping of his hat continued.Tap. Tap. Tap.Alexandra couldn’t bear this—not the silence, not his terse responses, not the idea that he could be regretting an elopement made in haste.
