under her breath. “Tell her we haven’t any pennies to spare.”
I spoke to the dark-haired lord. “I’m going to Iverson. To the school. Can you give me a lift?”
Laurence snorted and the girl looked truly appalled, but Lord Armand only stared at me harder.
“What’s your name?”
“Eleanore.”
This bit of information didn’t seem to satisfy him. He took off his hat with his free hand, and for one wild and unlikely moment I thought he was going to offer me a bow, but instead he pushed his fingers through the shiny brown hair that had been mashed to his forehead.
“I haven’t got a trunk,” I said into the silence. “Only this.” I tapped the toe of my shoe against my suitcase. “So I won’t take up much room.”
Chloe raised a hand to her mouth; her snicker was still loud enough to hear.
Yet I held on to that steady blue gaze. From the cut of his clothes to the angle of his chin, Lord Armand of Idylling was every inch an aristocrat and no doubt used to people of my class scraping low whenever he passed by. I wasn’t going to be one of them. There was something about this young man, some indefinable thing that felt like—like a living snake poised taut between us. A real, electric, dangerous thing, and if I dropped my gaze, it would turn on me, and I would lose more than just this moment.
“How about it?” I said, trying to sound confident but instead managing something barely above a whisper.
The pressed shape of his lips began to loosen. He opened his mouth, maybe to speak, but before he could, a new voice chimed in.
“No need, m’lord.”
I didn’t have to look away first; Lord Armand did. His gaze cut to someone behind me.
“Hastings,” greeted the boy, strangely flat, and when I turned around fully I saw that the new person who’d spoken was my fellow passenger from the train, the snoring old man, standing now motionless beneath the awning of the station roof. “How … nice to see you again.”
“Aye. I’m here for the gel.” The man curled an arm toward me. “Come along, miss. Haven’t got all night.”
I flicked a last glance at Armand, who was scowling faintly. None of the others were looking at me at all.
I picked up my case again and walked away.
The elderly man didn’t wait for me to reach him. He limped off into the amethyst-and-star night without another word, his cane tapping emphatically with every other step.
I was feeling my way down the platform stairs when I heard the imperious tones of Lord Armand lift sharp behind me.
“Eleanore who?” he called.
Bugger him and his gorgeous eyes and his snide friends and his chauffeured motorcar. I kept walking.
“Eleanore who?” he called again, much louder.
“Jones,” yelled back the man ahead of me; he’d paused at last to let me catch up. “Eleanore Rose Jones!”
A carriage with a pair of horses and a driver waited at the end of a graveled lot. It was a big carriage, the old-fashioned kind that was entirely enclosed, a bit like a fairy-tale pumpkin transformed into a coach. Which was fortunate, because horses always hated me. No matter how gently I spoke or how quietly I passed by, to a one they hated me, and venturing too close meant nearly always a bolt or a lunging bite.
We crunched along the lot, countless little stones grinding beneath the soles of my feet. A long, gleaming automobile had been parked at an angle in the exact middle, clearly waiting for trunks and lords.
“Mr. Hastings?” I said after a moment.
“Aye.”
“My middle name isn’t Rose.”
Funny that I couldn’t see him smile, but I thought I sensed it anyway. “No? What’s it, then?”
“I haven’t got one,” I admitted.
“Well, I’d say Rose is as fine a name as any, ain’t it?”
I saw his point.
• • •
The interior of the carriage was not nearly as musty as I’d feared it’d be. In fact, it was luxurious, far nicer than the London hansom I’d been in so many hours past. The seat cushions were plush and newly padded, the walls had been papered in silk, and a pair of folded fleece blankets had been left out for me to ward off the chill.
Since Mr. Hastings had climbed up outside to sit beside the driver on his perch, I drew one blanket over my shoulders and the other across my lap. I wasn’t terribly cold, but they were so soft. As the carriage rolled away from the