The Duchess War (Brothers Sinister #1)(34)

The last time she’d seen him, he’d told her to look up. She’d wanted to do it. And then… Then, she’d discovered that she had even fewer choices than she supposed. Looking at him made her want to forget all that. She’d hoped to put that longing out of her mind for good, but at the sight of him, the memory returned unbidden, waiting on the surface of her skin, reviving with every breath that passed through her lips.

I want you.

Those words had taken hold of her imagination, and even though her mind knew that nothing had ever happened between them, her flesh seemed unconvinced. She broke out in prickles of awareness at his presence. She looked down.

“Are you having a nice journey?” He placed a satchel in the rack overhead and then sat across from her.

“Yes,” she said, somewhat stiffly. “I visited a papermaker in London so I could discover where you were getting your materials.”

She tossed it out so he would know where they stood—as far apart as she could push them.

His nose twitched. “A progress report,” he said happily. “I see I have advanced in your standing. How lovely.” And he smiled at her.

There was no place for him and his wants in her life. No place at all. Luckily, the door opened again to admit the lady in the impressive traveling habit.

“Robert,” she said, “we cannot leave yet. They have misplaced Herman and the conductor is threatening to go anyway. What can it matter if the train is delayed? You must stop them, because my stratagems will not last much longer.”

“Your stratagems?” The Duke of Clermont sat up straight, and his voice grew darker. “What have you done?”

The woman held up a silver-plated whistle. “The conductor’s,” she said simply.

The duke stared at her, then groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Oh, God.” He touched his hat and turned to Minnie. “Wait. I’ll be right back.”

The door closed again, and she was once more left alone. Minnie briefly considered moving compartments. But if she did, he would only find her again. Besides, the conductor had marked off her ticket in this seat, and she wasn’t certain he’d remember her if she moved to another compartment.

The next temptation struck in a moment. He’d thrown his bag on the seat next to her. Only a single metal buckle separated her from his papers. His potentially damning papers.

He had to be importing the handbills from somewhere. Maybe he had a bill of sale or a note in that satchel.

But…it would be a tremendous breach of privacy.

And what would she do even if she found something? His word against hers would still leave her ruined. She argued with herself back and forth, until the passage of time made her decision for her.

The door to the car opened. It was the duke. He glanced at his satchel overhead and then shook his head. “Really,” he said, “you didn’t go through it?”

“Really.” Minnie gritted her teeth. “I didn’t go through it.”

“Am I not your enemy? Are we not at war?”

“I don’t know what you are. I certainly don’t know what we are doing.” Her nose wrinkled. “But I would have the devil of a time proving the provenance. Even if I did find a stack of radical handbills in your satchel, what would I do? Take them out and show the magistrate? I’d have no proof you once owned them.”

He took the satchel down and looked over at her. “You are constantly surprising me. I have to remind myself that whatever it is you are planning, it is going to be thought through more thoroughly than anything I have ever contemplated.” He undid the leather strap and reached in, taking out a handful of papers. “Here,” he said. “If you had gone through my satchel, you’d have found this. I wrote it for you anyway.”

He held out a piece of paper.

Minnie didn’t take it.

“You said you were terrified of the future, when last we spoke. I want a truce. This is my best offer.” He smiled at her, and oh God, she felt it, felt the force of his smile all the way to her toes.

She reached out and gingerly removed it from his hand. He was right; the letter had her name scrawled on the front.

“Pax for the journey?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“A few hours, Miss Pursling. That’s all I’m asking for.” His smile tilted. “And incidentally, about the other two passengers—”

The door opened, and he grimaced, folding his arms over his chest. The two people who had come in earlier entered once more.

The woman’s eyes rested on Minnie…and narrowed just long enough for Minnie to realize that this calm, impressive woman had likely heard something about her from the duke. Enough that she took in Minnie’s plain gown, the scar on her cheek, and tilted her head. Behind her stood the gentleman who’d winked at her, his hair dark, his cravat white.

The Duke of Clermont gave a rueful smile. “Heh,” he said. “Well, as to that.” He bit his lip. “Yes. Violet, Sebastian, may I introduce you to Miss Pursling? Miss Pursling, this is Violet Waterfield, the Countess of Cambury.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” the countess said, in a voice that suggested she was anything but.

“And behind her is Mr. Sebastian Malheur.”

Minnie forgot to be quiet. Her mouth fell open. “The Sebastian Malheur?” she found herself exclaiming. “The one who wrote that impassioned defense of Mr. Darwin?”