Page 106 of Desperate Proposals
And then she spun about once more, this time breaking into a full run, her breath sharp and painful; the air was too dry, too sooty. Her cloak fanned out behind her, her heart thudded over the groaning and pounding of the locomotive’s mechanical components.
There were conductors at the passenger car doors, but she paid them no mind and kept racing along, calling out toward the windows.
“Marcus!”
Heavens, if she were Mrs. Bullard, she would be positively mortified on her account just now. But Evelyn had no time for embarrassment. She had to find him.
“Marcus!”
The train emitted a deafening whistle, and she instinctively covered her ears with her hands. And then, when she pulled them away, she heard him.
“Evelyn? Evelyn! What the dickens are you doing here?”
Standing at the stairs, holding onto a handle at the door, was her husband.
“Marcus!” she called out, racing toward the door just as the train began to move.
It was ludicrous. It was humiliating and desperate. But it was real, and Evelyn really was going to chase after this train. If she’d known how difficult it would be to exert herself so extensively, perhaps she’d have taken her father’s advice and limited herself to a spartan diet of beans and lettuce. But as it was, such was her desire that somehow she caught it, reaching the door and Marcus’s waiting arms.
He lifted her up from the platform by the waist, then set her down before him and held her tight against his chest; she took in his familiar scent as she gulped in air. Then they both shuffled a few steps away so that the door could slide closed, slightly muffling the clamor of the station outside.
Evelyn shut her eyes and snaked her arms around his familiar form. Her heart felt off-kilter, as if it sputtered like a steam engine coming to life before managing to settle back into its regular rhythm.
“You foolish thing,” he murmured, smoothing her hair with his hand. “Whatever has happened?” He pulled back slightly, tipping her face up to his before adding with concern, “Is everything well?”
“It is,” she gasped, then paused and heaved a few more times. “But no, it isn’t, for I… I mean to come with you.”
“Well, you’re coming along now, like it or lump it,” he said with a touch of wry humor.
“She still needs a ticket,” a voice behind them groused.
Evelyn turned, alarmed to find a perturbed-looking conductor standing before them, arms crossed and wearing an impressive mustache as well as a glare.
“Of course,” Marcus said coolly. He looked gently back to Evelyn. “Your ticket, my love?”
“I… I didn’t have time to purchase one,” she said.
“No ticket?!” the conductor blustered.
Marcus sighed. “Surely we’re able to purchase one from you—”
“Of course you can’t!” the conductor rumbled, stepping toward them. “You think we could operate our business in such a higgledy-piggledy, catch-as-catch-can fashion?” He flung his arm back, gesturing to the hallway where various heads were poking out of their compartments, curious to see what the running woman was about. “What if everyone aboard wished to purchase their fare from me? How would that work, you reckon?”
Marcus looked down at Evelyn, his expression full of all the kindness in the world. Then he looked back to the conductor and his face hardened, his brow narrowing.
“Now, it’s just a small matter. Why, what has this country come to if the wife of a member of Parliament cannot correct her innocent mistake in good faith?” Marcus said sharply, straightening up to his full height.
The conductor’s eyes widened. “Sir, er, that is, the rules are in place for—”
“Of course they are, and I am informing you of our intention to make whatever amends are necessary,” he growled. “Quickly, man. I’ve no wish to attract more of a crowd, for my wife’s sake.”
Sure enough, a rush of whispers made its way down the passage as those closest to the action relayed Marcus’s words. Evelyn could feel Marcus bristling in her hold as he committed fully to the role of an outraged person of influence. Her humble, poorly mannered, martyr of a husband, feigning the irate gentleman?
Her shoulders began to shake. Something in her middle tightened, and she bent forward, hand to her mouth.
“Evelyn?” Marcus turned her about, hands on her shoulders, his face twisted in concern.
“You foolish man,” she said, and then she could say no more.
