Chapter 35

RHYS’S PRIVATE TRAIN CARRIAGE consisted of two long sections with a flexible covered walkway in between. It was magnificently furnished with luxurious chairs upholstered in bronze silk plush, and floors covered with cut-velvet carpeting. There was a parlor with wide observation windows, and a dining room with a mahogany extension table. Rhys and Helen would sleep in the large bedroom en suite in the first section, while Charity—no, Carys, Helen reminded herself—would occupy one of two smaller bedrooms in the second section, along with her nursemaid.

At first Helen had worried that Carys might be uneasy at sleeping apart from her on the train. However, the little girl had immediately taken to Anna Edevane, the younger sister of Rhys’s social secretary. Anna was pretty and vivacious, and she’d had experience helping to raise her four younger brothers and sisters. As soon as they boarded, Anna took Carys to their room, where a collection of new toys and books had been left for her. Dumbfounded by the playthings, including a porcelain doll in a lilac silk dress and a Noah’s ark, Carys didn’t seem to know what to do with them. Sitting on the floor, she touched the carved and painted animals gently, as if she thought they might break.

Now that Carys had been thoroughly bathed—Rhys’s suggestion of foam soap had worked brilliantly—she was clean and sweet smelling. She wore a rose-colored dress with a little skirt made of box plaits, each one headed by a little ribbon rosette.

“It’s eleven o’clock,” Helen told Anna. “Carys must go to bed soon—it’s been a long day, and she had only a short nap.”

“I don’t want to,” Carys protested.

“I’ll read her a bedtime story,” Anna said. “I heard she has a favorite one . . . I think it was . . . ‘Little Red Riding Hood’?”

“‘The Three Bears,’” Carys said from the floor.

Anna pretended not to hear. “Maybe it was ‘Rumplestiltskin’ . . .”

Carys stood and hung onto her skirts. “The Three Bears.”

“Three pigs, did you say?” Anna swept the child up in her arms, and fell with her onto the bed.

Carys lay there giggling. “Bears, bears, bears!”

The sound of her laughter, Helen thought, was more beautiful than any music.

The rest of the Winterborne retinue, including the lady’s maid, Quincy, a footman, and a cookmaid, were all lodged farther back on the private train, in handsome carriages provided by Mr. Severin.

“I’m so glad you renewed your friendship with Mr. Severin,” Helen exclaimed as she wandered around their private compartments, pausing to admire a gilded wall lamp. She quoted a popular poem, “Forgiveness! No virtue surer brings its own reward.”

“Aye,” Rhys had replied dryly, “like a free locomotive.”

“That wasn’t the only reason you forgave him.”

He pulled her against him, kissing her neck. “Cariad, are you trying to convince yourself that I’m a man of hidden honor and secret virtues? I’ll be changing your mind about that soon.”

Helen wriggled in protest as his hand stole to the back of her skirts. She was wearing a ready-made traveling dress, which fit nicely after a few minor alterations made by one of Mrs. Allenby’s assistants. It was a simple design of light blue silk and cashmere, with a smart little waist-jacket. There was no bustle, and the skirts had been drawn back snugly to reveal the shape of her body. The skirts descended in a pretty fall of folds and pleats, with a large decorative bow placed high on her posterior. To her vexation, Rhys wouldn’t leave the bow alone. He was positively mesmerized by it. Every time she turned her back to him, she could feel him playing with it.

“Rhys, don’t!”

“I can’t help it. It calls to me.”

“You’ve seen bows on dresses before.”

“But not there. And not on you.” Reluctantly Rhys let go of her and pulled out his pocket watch. “The train should have departed by now. We’re five minutes late.”

“What are you in a rush for?” she asked.

“Bed,” came his succinct reply.

Helen smiled. She stood on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “We have a lifetime of nights together.”

“Aye, and we’ve already missed too many of them.”

Helen turned and bent to pick up her small valise, which had been set on the floor. At the same time, she heard the sound of fabric ripping.

Before Helen had straightened and twisted to look at the back of her skirts, she already knew what had happened. The bow hung limply, at least half of its stitches torn.

Meeting her indignant glance, Rhys looked as sheepish as a schoolboy caught with a stolen apple. “I didn’t know you were going to bend over.”

“What am I going to say to the lady’s maid when she sees this?”

He considered that for a moment. “Alas?” he suggested.

Helen’s lips quivered with unwilling amusement.

A whistle signaled their impending departure with two short bursts, and soon they were underway. The locomotive proceeded at a slower pace than the express trains Helen had ridden to and from Hampshire, and the ride was smoother, with subtle vibrations and sways instead of jolts. As the train moved away from lights and buildings and roads, out into the night, the passengers began to retire after a day that had been unusually long and exhausting for all of them.

Rhys went to another compartment while the lady’s maid came to help Helen prepare for bed.

“The bow in my dress came loose,” Helen said as the maid collected her clothes. “It caught on something.” She didn’t feel the need to explain that the “something” had been a set of inquisitive masculine fingers.