is useless, rather quite the opposite.”
Rork hid his distaste. “If your wife is so unappealing, why stay married?”
“Told you, her money, dear boy. Her damn father holds the purse strings and doles out a certain sum every year—wish the old skinflint was dead.” Hank bent to pick up his valise. “Women, the scourge of my life. I expect this will be a long, taxing journey.”
“How did you get yourself into this dilemma?” Rork couldn’t help being amused by Hank’s woes.
“Sissy accepted my invitation to meet me later, but when she heard I was taking the train to St. Louis, the chit harped on about joining me at the start. I refused to accommodate her, but damned if she didn’t just turn up, luggage and all.” He rubbed his cheek. “Thank God, before Leila showed.”
Rork hoisted his valise. “I keep my life free of romantic entanglements to avoid complications. I’m sure one woman is enough to manage in the confines of a train, but two?”
“You’re a wise man. I married well. I don’t need the money, but my father-in-law provides my wife with an income that I am expected to manage.”
“I’m impressed.” Rork walked to the passenger coaches.
“Not a word about this foul-up. The consequences would be dire.” Hank held up his hand, mimicking a pistol to his head.
Rork chuckled. “You’re a rogue, but I won’t say a word.” He sighed. So much for a bachelor trip .
Hank grinned. “We could make it entertaining. You occupy my wife while I dally with Sissy.”
Rork’s belly lurched. God, the man is serious .
Chapter 7
A swirl of voices echoed in the dining car. Gaslights cast a sickly yellow glow on the passengers as if they had no life in them. Somewhere a child cried, followed by a sharp reprimand.
Leila sat alone on a plush red velvet bench and sipped some of her tea, grimacing as the brew scalded her mouth. She stared at the landscape draped in a warm afternoon sun. Muted conversations coiled around her as she nursed a bruised ego and tried to quell her unease. Hank had accepted the invitation to join her for tea, but she wondered if he would come.
“Hello, darlin.’”
She released a breath and wrinkled her nose as he bent and pecked her cheek. He reeked of whiskey.
“Must go. I’ll return shortly—need to attend to business.” He slipped into the adjacent bar.
She craned her neck to see him. Butterflies beset her belly. Hank sat on a stool next to Rork Millburn. He had a drink in hand and a cigar in his mouth. She couldn’t join them. And even if it were allowed, it wouldn’t do to incur Hank’s wrath further.
Leila leaned back and saw Sissy, smiling vacantly at Hank’s back as he conversed intently with Millburn. It was obvious neither man wanted to spend time with the woman. Leila kept a careful distance from Sissy, who was all but ignored.
Hank turned and smiled at her, and Millburn laughed at something Sissy said.
Leila chewed her lip. Clearly, Sissy was not ignored. A sudden explosion of anger erupted behind Leila’s eyes. It was absurd that she had to chase her husband across the continent to ensure his fidelity.
Certainly her mother had made it clear that Leila committed a serious breach of etiquette by joining her husband on a bachelor spree, and people would talk about her unladylike conduct.
I don’t care what my mother or anybody else says . Leila pouted. Anyway, what’s one more scandal? Rumors surrounding Hank’s excesses and philandering had plagued her marriage from the outset.
She poured more tea and took a sip of the hot brew, casting a glance at Hank. Millburn’s shoulders were twice the width of her husband’s, and he was a head taller than Hank. They seemed well ensconced at the bar. She sighed and contemplated returning to her compartment.
“Leila?”
She looked up. A tall woman with blond curls pinned high on her head stood beside the booth. A smile touched the woman’s alabaster face. “Leila Dempsey? Is that really
Rork hid his distaste. “If your wife is so unappealing, why stay married?”
“Told you, her money, dear boy. Her damn father holds the purse strings and doles out a certain sum every year—wish the old skinflint was dead.” Hank bent to pick up his valise. “Women, the scourge of my life. I expect this will be a long, taxing journey.”
“How did you get yourself into this dilemma?” Rork couldn’t help being amused by Hank’s woes.
“Sissy accepted my invitation to meet me later, but when she heard I was taking the train to St. Louis, the chit harped on about joining me at the start. I refused to accommodate her, but damned if she didn’t just turn up, luggage and all.” He rubbed his cheek. “Thank God, before Leila showed.”
Rork hoisted his valise. “I keep my life free of romantic entanglements to avoid complications. I’m sure one woman is enough to manage in the confines of a train, but two?”
“You’re a wise man. I married well. I don’t need the money, but my father-in-law provides my wife with an income that I am expected to manage.”
“I’m impressed.” Rork walked to the passenger coaches.
“Not a word about this foul-up. The consequences would be dire.” Hank held up his hand, mimicking a pistol to his head.
Rork chuckled. “You’re a rogue, but I won’t say a word.” He sighed. So much for a bachelor trip .
Hank grinned. “We could make it entertaining. You occupy my wife while I dally with Sissy.”
Rork’s belly lurched. God, the man is serious .
Chapter 7
A swirl of voices echoed in the dining car. Gaslights cast a sickly yellow glow on the passengers as if they had no life in them. Somewhere a child cried, followed by a sharp reprimand.
Leila sat alone on a plush red velvet bench and sipped some of her tea, grimacing as the brew scalded her mouth. She stared at the landscape draped in a warm afternoon sun. Muted conversations coiled around her as she nursed a bruised ego and tried to quell her unease. Hank had accepted the invitation to join her for tea, but she wondered if he would come.
“Hello, darlin.’”
She released a breath and wrinkled her nose as he bent and pecked her cheek. He reeked of whiskey.
“Must go. I’ll return shortly—need to attend to business.” He slipped into the adjacent bar.
She craned her neck to see him. Butterflies beset her belly. Hank sat on a stool next to Rork Millburn. He had a drink in hand and a cigar in his mouth. She couldn’t join them. And even if it were allowed, it wouldn’t do to incur Hank’s wrath further.
Leila leaned back and saw Sissy, smiling vacantly at Hank’s back as he conversed intently with Millburn. It was obvious neither man wanted to spend time with the woman. Leila kept a careful distance from Sissy, who was all but ignored.
Hank turned and smiled at her, and Millburn laughed at something Sissy said.
Leila chewed her lip. Clearly, Sissy was not ignored. A sudden explosion of anger erupted behind Leila’s eyes. It was absurd that she had to chase her husband across the continent to ensure his fidelity.
Certainly her mother had made it clear that Leila committed a serious breach of etiquette by joining her husband on a bachelor spree, and people would talk about her unladylike conduct.
I don’t care what my mother or anybody else says . Leila pouted. Anyway, what’s one more scandal? Rumors surrounding Hank’s excesses and philandering had plagued her marriage from the outset.
She poured more tea and took a sip of the hot brew, casting a glance at Hank. Millburn’s shoulders were twice the width of her husband’s, and he was a head taller than Hank. They seemed well ensconced at the bar. She sighed and contemplated returning to her compartment.
“Leila?”
She looked up. A tall woman with blond curls pinned high on her head stood beside the booth. A smile touched the woman’s alabaster face. “Leila Dempsey? Is that really
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