Page 65 of Unforeseen Affairs
“Sir Colin? Are you unwell?”
“Just a moment, please,” he said with a frown, pinching the bridge of his nose.
She folded her hands. After a moment he looked back to her, panicked.
“I might very well ask you the same, Miss Sedley,” he stammered, “for I cannot, in good faith, accede to such… such a journey. Not without a proper chaperone, and not without your father’s permission.”
“Oh?” she said flatly, crossing her arms. “I thought you had placed yourself completely at my disposal.”
His face fell.
“You don’t strike me as one to disregard hierarchy.”
“No… that is… you’re right. I did promise.” She thought she caught a hint of an involuntary smile force its way to his lips, even as he shut his eyes with a pained expression. “There is the matter of…” He trailed off.
“What matter?” she asked as she uncrossed her arms.
His eyes darted about her face; he seemed to be weighing a decision, wanting to move toward her but arrested in place. She prayed he would kiss her again.
He closed his eyes and gently shook his head.
Charlotte wanted to cry out.
“Nothing. No matter.”
He looked so utterly desirable; she could tell he was barely holding onto his senses, his dignity, as the muscles in his neck flexed and the lines between his brows drew together. How she wanted to fall upon him, palms against his chest, lips along his jaw. She longed to feel him tremble against her, full of passion.
And to think, she’d thought him boring once.
“Well then,” Charlotte said, steadying her voice despite her heavy heartbeat. “Shall we meet at Euston Station, then?”
He swallowed and opened his green eyes, guileless and innocent.
“Very well, Miss Sedley.”
Chapter Eighteen
Theblastofsteamfrom the handsome, gleaming locomotive was deafening. Still, such a thing ought not bother Colin. An engine was an engine, after all. The chugging, the hissing of the steam, the rattle of the boilers—all were familiar sounds, recalling a ship’s engine room below the waterline.
And yet, bother him it did.
He’d strictly avoided traveling by rail ever since his return to shore. Not just because he’d had no need for it, but the thought of the swaying motion, traversing the countryside at breakneck speed…
A queer feeling had lodged itself in his chest—not quite like dyspepsia, though he had no better description for it. But Colin was certain that liver pills would do nothing to quell it.
And it wasn’t just the train—there was the young lady on his arm, the one who frequently set his heart to racing with uncertainty.
Miss Sedley had thought of everything for their trip, and she was eager to depart. And Colin, it seemed, was in no position to refuse.
He’d offered his service to her. And Colin was a man of his word.
He scanned the platform, half-expecting an angry relative to emerge from the crowd, finger-wagging and furious. Because that was what he deserved. Just a handful of days ago, Colin would never have imagined himself to be the sort of man to carelessly handle an unmarried young lady and accede to her demand to accompany her around the country.
Her fingers rested lightly on his arm, with just enough pressure to make his collar feel tight and his back hot—a rotten combination to pair with his stomach upset.
He sometimes wondered whether it would be better to simply give in and live his life with careless and ruinous abandon, the way Beaky did. Flirt with every pretty girl he encountered, revel in the attention lavished upon him. Suppress his conscience while visiting brothels and doing heaven-knew-what at every foreign port…
To cunt and gunpowder, a sailor’s best friend.
