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“Thanks,” Cal muttered.
“Of course, sir.”
“It’s about time you showed up,” a voice said as soon as he stepped into car D. And there was the missing Miss Murray.
“Always a pleasure to see you, lass.” He winked.
Her gaze turned stony—rather, stonier. Cal looked about the car and noted they weren’t alone. Several others occupied the carriage, which was fancier than any of the previous cars he’d walked through. This one had tall, plush blue velvet seats and large windows with heavy blue draperies. The eight seats were in two groupings of four with a center aisle between. On each side of the aisle two seats faced forward with a table between them and the two seats that faced backward. All told, eight could sit comfortably in the car. Cal counted six pairs of eyes on him, not including Miss Murray.
He had the mad idea to turn around and jump right back off the train. What was he doing here? Sure he needed the money he’d been offered for going north to train at the government camp. And after the first five days, he could leave when he wanted and still be paid in full. It had seemed too good to be true, and now he looked at the company he was to keep and knew it would never work.
Miss Murray cleared her throat and lifted a clipboard, which she consulted before speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, our last traveler, Mr. Callahan Kelly.”
Cal surveyed the Englishmen and women and decided to get the unpleasantness out of the way. He could always go sit in one of the other cars. He’d seen plenty of empty seats. He could get off the train when it stopped. That was a better option than a broken head. “Good evening to you,” he said, letting his Irish brogue lay thick on his tongue. “If you haven’t guessed, I’m one of the Irish your da warned you about. Me name’s not Paddy, though I hardly think that will matter,” he said, referencing the slur the English often used for the Irish. “As such, I’ll go make meself comfortable in another car.”
He turned and reached for the handle to slide the car door open.
“Mr. Kelly. Hullo, Mr. Kelly!”
He looked over his shoulder at the short, dark woman dressed in pink and waving from the foremost grouping of seats. She pointed to a forward-facing seat. “We have a place here.”
Cal frowned, his eyes slanting toward the man seated across from her, who’d turned partially in his seat. Her companion jerked his head toward the empty seat. Cal looked at the other two men, studying him from the rear-facing seats. One lifted his paper and went back to reading, while the other yawned. The woman seated closest to his left looked up from her book and then back down again.
Apparently, these people didn’t mind that he was Irish. Or they didn’t mind enough to kick him out. Perhaps the indomitable Miss Murray had warned them. Then again, Murray was a traditionally Irish name, though she sounded as English as the Queen.
Well, maybe not quite that bad.
“Alright then,” he said and moved forward to take the proffered seat. He’d barely lowered himself into it when the woman who’d spoken piped up again.
“Hullo.” She was pretty, and when she smiled two dimples appeared in her pink cheeks. She wore a pink coat that all but matched her cheeks as well as a pink hat tilted at a jaunty angle. With her dark curls spilling from the hat, she looked like a doll.
The man seated across from her cleared his throat and held his hand out. “Willoughby Galloway.” It was a nob name if Cal had ever heard one.
The nob was a man of an age with Cal. Further, he had the same color hair as Cal, that not-quite-blond-not-quite-brown color, but his was much neater. He’d placed his hat on the empty cushion of the seat beside him, and his hair was perfectly swept over one eye. Like the woman with him, he had brown eyes, though his were lighter. He was also a good deal taller than she and wore the typical garb of a gentleman traveler—trousers, coat, waistcoat, and linen shirt—but the shirt was open at the collar.
Cal shook the nob’s hand. “Callahan Kelly.” He didn’t bother to disguise his brogue, but he didn’t play it up now either.
Galloway nodded to the woman. “This is my sister, Lucy Galloway.”
Sister. That explained the resemblance. Cal would have doffed his hat but had to settle for nodding instead. “Miss Galloway, it’s a pleasure.”
“And a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kelly.” Her gaze slid to Miss Murray. “Now that we’re all accounted for, will you introduce our other companions?”
“Of course, Miss Galloway.” Miss Murray consulted that clipboard again. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce each of you. You’ll be working together for the next few weeks, and now is as good a time as any to become acquainted.” She pointed to the Galloways, although the car was small enough that everyone had probably already heard their introduction. “This is Mr. Willoughby Galloway and Miss Lucy Galloway.”
“Call me Will,” Mr. Galloway said.
“And you’ve met Mr. Callahan Kelly.”
“Call me Cal,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. Kelly,” Miss Murray replied and moved her finger down her clipboard. Apparently, she wouldn’t be calling him Cal.
“Behind Mr. Galloway is Mr. Hew Arundel.” The man who’d been reading the paper lowered it and notched his hat up. He was also close in age to Cal. His closely shaven face was square and set with blue eyes and an aristocratic nose. A crooked nose, so he’d broken it at least once. Cal knew his type—wealthy, perhaps not titled but related to the peerage. And with a name like Hew Arundel, he was definitely related to the peerage. That was an old and a noble name, Cal could tell because it sounded bloody ridiculous. He’d heard lots of ridiculous names and they were inevitably from the nobility. It was a hobby, or perhaps a business, of his to know those noble names.
“And beside Mr. Arundel is Mr. Duncan Slorach.”
Slorach was harder than Arundel to peg. He was dressed well, but he looked a bit rough around the edges. The hair under his hat was tousled and auburn. The stubble on his cheeks and jaw were the same color. He had brown eyes that seemed to assess everyone and everything. Though he had a paper beside him, he wasn’t even pretending to read. He’d been watching Lucy Galloway since Cal walked through the door—and probably before that.
