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“Lucy!” Will Galloway spread his hands in a gesture of apology. “Forgive my sister. She doesn’t always think before she speaks.”
“I have atrocious manners, it’s true,” Miss Galloway said, not looking the least bit repentant. “My mother always says so, but I ask you, am I not supposed to comment on the irregularity of a man wearing formal clothing on a train bound for a farm?”
A farm? This was new information to Cal. He hadn’t been told he would be sent to a farm. He shot Miss Murray a worried look, but she was still absorbed in her clipboard.
“And clearly the clothing was tailored for another man. It’s far too tight for you, Mr. Kelly.”
“Perhaps I merely gained weight.”
“In your—”
“Lucy!” Her brother interrupted. “Excuse us, Mr. Kelly.”
“No need.” Cal rose, aware all eyes were on him. “Excuse me.” He made his way out of the car, relaxing when the door slid closed behind him. He didn’t fit in with the others. He’d thought the others would be pickpockets and charlatans—conmen like himself. He’d misjudged.
Cal made his way on wobbly legs that were unused to the movement of the train to the next car, which happened to be the private dining car. A steward stood behind a gleaming bar where he wiped the polished surface with a clean white cloth. “Good evening, Mr. Kelly.” He had the accent and coloring of a native from India. “Would you care for a drink, sir?”
Oh, Cal cared for a drink. He cared for about twenty, but that was the road to ruin. “Just tea, Mr...I don’t know your name.”
“Chadha, Mr. Kelly.”
“Sure and I’ll have hot tea, Mr. Chadha. Maybe a cube or two of sugar, if you have it.”
“Of course, Mr. Kelly.” Chadha poured the water and began to steep the tea, while Cal looked about the dining car. It was a large car, far larger than the seven of them would need. Except for the shape of it, it might have been the interior of any fancy restaurant in London. The tables were covered with snowy cloths and topped by blue vases filled with fresh flowers. The upholstery was rich and thick. The mirrors with gilded trim made the room look larger. Cal wished the owners had opted for paintings rather than mirrors. He didn’t necessarily want to see himself reflected a thousand times over. His hair looked unkempt and he hadn’t shaved for a day or two, meaning he had stubble that only added to the look of a ruffian, even in the formal wear.
A wolf in sheep’s clothing, that’s what he was.
Chadha set the tea in front of him to steep, along with a tiny bowl of sugar cubes and tongs to lift the cubes. Cal wondered if he’d be thrown off the train if he ignored the silver tweezers and just used his fingers.
The door to the dining car opened before Cal could lift a sugar cube, and Will Galloway entered. Cal sighed. He’d thought the lot of them would be glad to have the Irishman further away.
“Good evening, Mr. Galloway.”
Galloway nodded. “Mr. Chadha.” Of course, the nob agent knew the steward’s name.
“Care for a drink, sir?”
“No, Chadha, but my sister is quite famished. She won’t say so, but I can hear her stomach making all manner of racket. Would you bring her a pastry or some toast?”
“Of course, sir.” The steward loaded a tray with more food than one lady could eat and then left Cal and Galloway alone.
“Well done, Galloway,” Cal said, sipping his tea. It needed sugar. He didn’t bother with the tweezers but lifted the tiny bowl and dumped all the cubes in the cup. “You wanted to speak to me alone then.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“Your sister doesn’t strike me as the sort who’s too shy to speak up when she’s hungry.”
Galloway leaned on the bar. “She’s not. And I’ve come to apologize if she offended you.”
Cal laughed. An Englishman apologizing to an Irishman? That would be the day. “No, you didn’t. You came to find out who I am.”
Galloway didn’t look chagrined. “I’m curious. It’s part of the job.”
“Sure and I’m the only one of the gaggle who doesn’t belong.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t belong.”
It didn’t need to be said. “I’m not an agent for the British government. It didn’t take me but five minutes to reason out the rest of you are.”
