Cowasj paced, hands shoved in his pockets. “We can discuss the details while in a train carriage, travelling to London. I have a few questions to ask Miss Pearl.”
Christopher scraped his chair back. “Is this a joke?”
“I’m afraid not.” Benedict reclined in the chair, as if he were enjoying himself. “I discussed what I found with Julia, and it took a bit of work on my part—”
“You’ve never worked in your life,” Dorian said.
“And,” Benedict continued, “Julia admitted that the Amelia we met isn’t the real Amelia, but is Pearl.”
“Why the ruse?” The anger in Christopher’s veins was turning into a hurricane of fury.
Benedict shrugged. “Something to do with the fact that Amelia has a sweetheart, and she didn’t want to meet you, which isn’t surprising. So Amelia asked Pearl to impersonate her.”
Silence—finally—filled the room, but it was the type of silence Christopher could do without because it was charged with questions and confusion.
“She played us for fools,” Cowasj said, not helping at all.
Amelia . . . no, Pearl had lied to him. All this time, she’d been playing a part, pretending to be someone else, fooling him. The void in his chest sucked the anger and left him empty. Not a single vibe stirred inside him. It was like the calm that descended upon him before a battle when he realised that his life depended on his ability to remain calm.
“What did she have to gain, anyway?” Benedict asked.
Dorian shrugged. “Another thing we’ll have to ask her.” He shook Christopher’s arm. “Do you understand why she had to leave? Why she couldn’t stay? Do you know what it means?”
Christopher hated the hope lacing Dorian’s words. There was no hope. Only hurt.
Wrath filled the void inside him with head-spinning speed. “I’m going to London.”
~ * ~
THE DISTANCE BETWEEN London and Harpenden must’ve doubled overnight because Pearl could swear she’d been sitting in the stuffed seat of the carriage for hours. The train was going so slow that even horse-pulled carts were faster. She wriggled her gloves and glanced out of the window. A whistle signalled the train was slowing down again.
She pressed two fingers on her temple. Of all the days the train had to be slow, today was most definitely the wrong one. A strangled sigh erupted from her when the trained stopped.
A uniformed attendant walked past in the aisle, and she sprinted after him. “Excuse me, sir, may I ask what’s happening? Why is the train stopping so often?”
The man touched the rim of his hat in greeting. “A tree fell over the rails, ma’am. They’re chopping it, but in the meantime, the trains are overlapping, and they have been slowed.”
So she’d noticed. Leaning against the wall, she watched out of the window a barley field stretching for miles. A train coming from the opposite direction slogged past until it stopped next to hers.
A familiar pair of broad, wide shoulders filled the window of the opposing train. Dark hair, strong neck, and a scar on the cheek. Christopher Lyons was standing in the carriage in front of her with Dorian, Benedict, and Cowasj. Judging by the way they gesticulated and the tension on their faces, they were arguing.
A thrill coursed through her. Just staring at him sent a riot of heated emotions jolting in her chest. “Christopher,” she whispered.
As if he’d heard her, he turned.
Their gazes met through the glasses of the windows. His jaw slackened. Her heart seemed to stop. Blimey, the entire world seemed to stop. Her chest heaved with all the words she wanted to tell him. He put a hand on the window and mouthed something.
She rushed to open the window as he did the same.
“Amelia,” he said in a desperate tone.
The word was like a stab in her chest.
“I’m not Amelia.” Sadness cracked her voice.
“It’s her!” Cowasj pointed a finger at her and ran out of the carriage.
“I know,” Christopher said, but it wasn’t clear if he was talking to Cowasj or to her.
