Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(92)

“Two, perhaps three weeks. I’ll send a telegram to you in London when it happens.”

“If it happens,” he said bitterly. “And you won’t need to send a bloody telegram – you’re still coming with me. Don’t bother asking why – I’m weary of having to explain every decision I make to every person on this godforsaken estate.”

He left her before he could say anything else, striding away as if the devil were at his heels.

Chapter 28

The railway journey to London was accomplished in a miraculous two hours, at least four times faster than it would have been had they gone by coach. That turned out to be fortunate, as it soon became apparent that the Ravenel family did not travel well.

Pandora and Cassandra were both overcome with excitement, never having set foot on a train before. They chattered and exclaimed, darting across the station platform like feeding pigeons, begging West to purchase railway editions of popular novels – only a shilling apiece – and sandwiches packaged in cunning little paper boxes, and handkerchiefs printed with pastoral scenes. Loaded with souvenirs, they boarded the family’s first-class railway carriage and insisted on trying every seat before choosing the ones they preferred.

Helen had insisted on bringing one of her potted orchids, its long, fragile stem having been stabilized with a stick and a bit of ribbon. The orchid was a rare and sensitive species of Blue Vanda. Despite its dislike of being moved, she believed it would be better off in London with her. She carried the orchid in her lap the entire way, her absorbed gaze focused on the passing landscape.

Soon after the train had left the station, Cassandra made herself queasy by trying to read one of the railway novels. She closed the book and settled in her seat with her eyes closed, moaning occasionally as the train swayed. Pandora, by contrast, couldn’t stay seated for more than a few minutes at a time, jumping up to test the feeling of standing in a moving locomotive, and attempting to view the scenery from different windows. But the worst traveler by far was Clara, the lady’s maid, whose fear of the train’s speed proved resistant to all attempts at soothing. Every small jolt or lurch of the carriage drew a fearful cry from her until Devon had given her a small glass of brandy to settle her nerves.

“I told you we should have put her in the second-class carriage with Sutton,” he said to Kathleen.

In the week since the episode in the morning room, they had both taken care to avoid each other as much as possible. When they were together, as now, they retreated into mutual and scrupulous politeness.

“I thought she would feel safer with us,” Kathleen replied. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Clara was sleeping with her head tilted back and her mouth half open. “She seems to be faring better after a nip of brandy.”

“Nip?” He gave her a dark glance. “She’s had at least a half pint by now. Pandora’s been dosing her with it for the past half hour.”

“What? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it kept her quiet.”

Kathleen jumped up and hurried to retrieve the decanter from Pandora. “Darling, what are you doing with this?”

The girl stared at her owlishly. “I’ve been helping Clara.”

“That was very kind, but she’s had enough. Don’t give her any more.”

“I don’t know why it’s made her so sleepy. I’ve had almost as much medicine as she’s had, and I’m not a bit tired.”

“You drank some of the brandy?” West had asked from the other side of the railway carriage, his brows lifting.

Pandora stood and made her way to the opposite window to view a Celtic hill fort and a meadow with grazing cattle. “Yes, when we were crossing the bridge over the water, I felt a bit nervous. But then I dosed myself, and it was quite relaxing.”

“Indeed,” West said, glancing at the half-empty bottle in Kathleen’s hand before returning his gaze to Pandora. “Come sit with me, darling. You’ll be as stewed as Clara by the time we reach London.”

“Don’t be silly.” Dropping into the empty seat next to him, Pandora argued and giggled profusely, until she dropped her head to his shoulder and began to snore.

Finally they arrived at one of the two train sheds at Waterloo Station, crowded with thousands of passengers searching for their correct departure platforms. Standing, Devon stretched his shoulders and said, “The driver and carriage are waiting outside the train shed. I’ll have a porter assist Clara. Everyone else, stay together. Cassandra, don’t even think about dashing off to look at trinkets or books. Helen, hold fast to your orchid in case you’re jostled while we move through the crowd. As for Pandora…”

“I have her,” West assured him, pulling the wilting girl to her feet. “Wake up, child. It’s time to leave.”

“My legs are on the wrong feet,” Pandora mumbled, her face buried against his chest.

“Reach around my neck.”

She squinted up at him. “Why?”

West regarded her with amused exasperation. “So I can carry you off the train.”

“I like trains.” Pandora hiccupped as he lifted her against his chest. “Oh, being carried is ever so much nicer than walking. I feel so flopsawopsy-doodly…”

Somehow the group made it through the train shed without mishap. Devon directed the porters and footmen to load their luggage onto a road wagon that would follow the carriage. Sutton reluctantly took charge of Clara, who was inclined to collapse and slump like a sack of beans as she sat next to him on a wagon bench.