Page 24 of A Modest Independence

“Do you anticipate requiring the entirety of your fortune on this adventure?”

“Indeed not. But I’d like to know that I have access to it all the same.”

“You won’t find me unreasonable.”

“No. I don’t believe I will.” She folded her documents into her reticule, then met his eyes. “You’ve been absolutely lovely about all of this. Very kind and generous. Indeed, I believe I owe you an apology.”

“You don’t.”

“I think I do.” She didn’t wish to make him uncomfortable, but she couldn’t leave the words unsaid. “I hope you can forgive me for misjudging your motives. It’s one of my chief failings, you know, always assuming that people are trying to get the better of me. To lord it over me in some way. I daresay it comes from spending so long as a companion. But I won’t make excuses. The fact is, you’ve been terribly helpful, when I know that you’d much rather be back at your office.”

“Don’t be absurd. I’m exactly where I wish to be.”

She gave a doubtful laugh. “On a train to Dover in the middle of the business day?”

“Why not? I enjoy your company.”

Her cheeks warmed. “And I yours.”

“Well, then, the two of us appear to be in harmony. No apologies necessary.”

Jenny didn’t argue with him. How could she when he was being so gallant? Instead she turned the subject to the Channel crossing. To Calais and Marseilles and beyond.

The hours flew by, the two of them engaged in companionable conversation until the train pulled into the station at Dover.

The porters saw to her trunk and Tom hired a carriage to convey her to Admiralty Pier. Jenny waited, her stomach roiling with an unsettling combination of nervous excitement and something very near dread. Was this where he would leave her? Would he help her into the coach and then bid her farewell?

The answer was no, thank goodness. After Tom assisted her into the carriage, he didn’t bid her goodbye or wish her safe journey. He climbed into the cab after her.

Jenny couldn’t hide her relief. “I thought we were parting ways at the station.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Common sense. You could have caught the next train back and been home by nightfall.”

“I’m in no hurry to return to London.”

“What about the case you’re working on?”

“The land dispute? It’s been going on for nearly eleven years. There’s no urgency at the moment. Besides, if my client finds himself in desperate need of counsel, he can always call on Fothergill. The old fellow would enjoy the diversion. Possibly even more than he’ll enjoy raking me over the coals when I return.”

“Surely he can’t begrudge you a little time off?”

“He begrudges me anything that takes me away from my practice.”

“But…he’s not your superior anymore, is he?”

“Not in the strict sense of the word. He retired two years ago. Unfortunately, he still likes to keep his hand in. When he discovers I’ve gone, he’ll be apoplectic.”

“I don’t see why. It’s only the space of a day. You’ll be back by morning.”

Tom didn’t say anything.

Jenny didn’t press him. It was plain enough that the law was his life. The sum total of his entire existence. For a man with such a work ethic, taking off a day to escort a friend to Kent must be the equivalent of a long holiday.

“Have you ever been to Dover?” she asked.

“Once or twice.”