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,” I said, forcing myself out of hysterics with a meager apology and slight incline of my head. “I mistook you for someone else.”
Before I could embarrass myself further, I dipped my chin and quickly retreated to my car. I kept my head down, ignoring the whispers and giggles, though I’d heard enough.
I needed to collect myself before I saw Thomas again. I’d pretended otherwise, but I’d seen the concern crinkling his brow. The extra care in the way he’d tease or annoy me. I knew precisely what he was doing each time he irked me. After what my family had gone through, any other gentleman would have treated me as if I were a porcelain doll, easily fractured and discarded for being broken. Thomas was unlike other young men, however.
Much too quickly I came upon my compartment and threw my shoulders back. It was time to wear the cool exterior of a scientist. My tears had dried and my heart was now a solid fist in my chest. I breathed in and exhaled. Jack the Ripper was never coming back. As real a statement as any.
There were no career murderers on this train. Another fact.
The Autumn of Terror had ended last month.
Wolves were most certainly not hunting anyone on the Orient Express.
If I wasn’t careful, I’d start believing Dracula had risen next.
I allowed myself another deep breath before I tugged the door open, banishing all thoughts of immortal princes as I entered the compartment.
ORIENT EXPRESS
KINGDOM OF ROMANIA
1 DECEMBER 1888
Thomas kept his focus stubbornly fixed on the window, his leather-clad fingers still drumming that annoying rhythm. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap.
Unsurprisingly, Mrs. Harvey was resting her eyes once again. Her soft snuffles indicated she’d fallen back asleep in the few moments I’d been gone. I stared at my companion, but he was either blissfully unaware or likely pretending to be as I slipped into the seat across from him. His profile was a study of perfect lines and angles, all carefully turned to the wintry world outside. I knew he sensed my attention on him, his mouth a bit too curved in delight for mindless thought.
“Must you keep up that wretched beat, Thomas?” I asked. “It’s driving me as mad as one of Poe’s unfortunate characters. Plus, poor Mrs. Harvey must be dreaming awful things.”
He shifted his attention to me, deep brown eyes turning thoughtful for a moment. It was that precise look—warm and inviting as a patch of sunshine on a crisp autumn day—that meant trouble. I could practically see his mind turning over brash things as one side of his mouth tugged upward. His crooked smile invited thoughts that Aunt Amelia would have found completely indecent. And the way his gaze fell to my own lips told me he knew it. Fiend.
“Poe? Will you carve my heart out and place it beneath your bed, then, Wadsworth? I must admit, it’s not an ideal way of ending up in your sleeping quarters.”
“You seem awfully certain of your ability to charm anything other than serpents.”
“Admit it. Our last kiss was rather thrilling.” He leaned forward, his handsome face coming entirely too close to my own. So much for having a chaperone. My heart sped up when I noticed tiny flecks in his irises. They were like little golden suns that drew me in with their enchanting rays. “Tell me you don’t fancy the idea of another.”
My gaze swiftly trailed over his hopeful features. The truth was, despite every dark thing that had happened the month before, I did indeed fancy the idea of another romantic encounter with him. Which somehow felt as if it were too much of a betrayal to my mourning period.
“First and last kiss,” I reminded him. “It was the adrenaline coursing through my veins after nearly dying at the hands of those two ruffians. Not your powers of persuasion.”
A wicked smile fully lifted the corners of his mouth. “If I found a dash of danger for us, would that entice you again?”
“You know, I much preferred you when you weren’t speaking.”
“Ah”—Thomas sat back, inhaling deeply—“either way, you prefer me.”
I did my best to hide a grin. I should have known the scoundrel would find a way to turn our conversation to such improper topics. In fact, I was surprised it had taken him this long to be vulgar. We’d traveled from London to Paris with my father so he could see us off on the impressive Orient Express, and Thomas had been a beguiling gentleman the entire way. I’d barely recognized him while he chatted warmly with Father over scones and tea.
If it weren’t for the mischievous tilt to his lips when Father wasn’t looking, or the familiar lines of his stubborn jaw, I would have claimed he was an impostor. There was no way this Thomas Cresswell could possibly be the same annoyingly intelligent boy I’d grown too fond of this past autumn.
I tucked a loose wisp of raven hair behind my ear and glanced out the window again.
“Does your silence mean you’re considering another kiss, then?”
“Can you not deduce my answer, Cresswell?” I stared at him, one brow raised in challenge, until he shrugged and continued rapping his gloved fingers against the windowsill.
This Thomas had also managed to persuade my father, the formidable Lord Edmund Wadsworth, to allow me to attend the Academy of Forensic Medicine and Science with him in Romania. A fact I still couldn’t quite sort out in my mind; it was almost too fantastical to be real. Even as I sat on a train en route to the school.
