The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

could he when she hadn’t shared the most shameful part of her secret? When she’d been less than completely honest?

      But his gaze flicked past Charlotte’s again. ‘Most of the time,’ he added.

      All the time, Charlotte suspected. This pretence they were engaged in was an aberration. Sure, Nico had approached it as an amusing diversion but any control had been lost very quickly, hadn’t it? At about the time he’d pushed that ring onto her finger, probably.

      No wonder he was feeling uncomfortable but Lady Geraldine didn’t seem to pick up on the loaded comment. ‘I’m ready to go,’ she announced. ‘I want as much time to enjoy seeing everybody else dressed up as I can before I start feeling too old and tired.’

      Or before she felt too sick and sore? Charlotte followed Nico as he carefully escorted Lady Geraldine through the rocking carriages towards the dining cars. She needed a break, she said, when they reached the bar car. She wanted to sit for a few minutes and enjoy listening to the piano. And…how nice…her friend Winsome was sitting at one of the side-facing seats and seemed to be saving space for her. Perhaps Charlotte could order a nice cocktail for her?

      Charlotte perused the cocktail menu while Nico made sure her grandmother was seated comfortably. Heavens, but there were a lot to choose from. She’d never even heard of a Moscow Mule or a Planters Punch. Both her grandmother’s favourites were there, though, so all she really needed to choose between was a Singapore Sling or a Gin Fizz.

      Nico came back to the bar as she ordered a Gin Fizz. When he was only a step or two away the train gave a sudden and rather dramatic lurch. A cry rippled through the carriage as people spilt their drinks but the pianist didn’t miss a beat of the Viennese waltz he was playing. And Nico’s arm was right there to steady Charlotte as she lost her balance.

      It was the first time he’d touched her since that almost kiss when they’d been interrupted earlier and it seemed to ignite a peculiar magic. How else could Charlotte explain the fact that a steadying touch morphed into an embrace that moved in time to the music?

      They were dancing?

      Yes. On a minuscule patch of blue carpet, in the space between the bar and the piano, Nico was very competently leading her through a confined version of a Viennese waltz. Charlotte could have laughed out loud. Except that this was giving her the same kind of feeling that she’d had when she’d woken from that deep sleep in Nico’s arms, and she wanted to recapture that bliss for just a few seconds.

      So, instead of holding her head in the correct position for a waltz as she’d been trained to do in those lessons Gran had insisted on when she’d been a teenager, Charlotte let herself droop enough to put her head on Nico’s shoulder. And he tilted his head so that it rested against hers. It was no waltz now. Just a slow, close dance.

      To anyone watching, and no doubt that included Lady Geraldine and her friend, they must look like a couple madly in love. Nobody, meaning Nico, needed to know that it was actually genuine on her part now.

      And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe…just a very small maybe…this didn’t have to end when they got off the train in London tomorrow.

      No. That tiny, unbidden seed of hope died away as Charlotte remembered Nico saying he never wanted marriage or children. That she was safe because she was so completely not his type of woman.

      Oh, well…at least if Gran lived long enough for her to have to confess that the relationship wasn’t going to work long term, she wouldn’t have to pretend to be heartbroken, would she?

      Oh, God…she really was in trouble now.

      Released from Nico’s arms to a round of applause from the crowded carriage, Charlotte headed back to the bar. She was going to order one of those potent-sounding cocktails for herself because she needed something strong if she was going to cope with the rest of this journey. She needed some bottled courage. Or stamina.

      Moving towards Lady Geraldine’s seat to wait for the bartender to bring the drinks, Charlotte found that introductions were being made. Winsome’s grandson Connor was with a young woman called Kelsie, who was now sitting beside Lady Geraldine. They were discussing seating arrangements.

      ‘Winsome and I have arranged a table for ourselves,’ Lady Geraldine said. ‘We don’t want to bore you young things with our gossip.’

      The implications were immediately obvious. Nico and Connor exchanged a glance as if they were measuring each other up and considering the prospect of a foursome for dinner. Kelsie was watching the older women as if she knew there was more coming. And there was.

      ‘So, instead, we have three tables,’ Lady Geraldine smiled. ‘One for each couple.’

      Charlotte almost groaned aloud. ‘I don’t think you’re allowed to change arrangements like that, are you, Gran?’

      Lady Geraldine merely tapped the side of her nose. ‘Wait and see where the maître d’ puts us all,’ she murmured. And then she winked at Winsome. ‘Being old doesn’t entirely deprive us of our ability to charm men into doing what we want, does it, Winnie?’

      ‘Not at all, dear. As you say, age is only an attitude.’

      Charlotte caught Connor’s gaze and his expression said it all. This was a done deal and there was absolutely no point trying to make changes now. She was now faced with the prospect of being alone with Nico for a dinner that might go on for hours. An intimate, romantic kind of dinner. Her heart sank. One strong cocktail was not going to be enough.

      Nico had to admire the persuasive powers of older women. Tables had to be at a premium on the train, even if there was more than one sitting for dinner, but here they were at a table that could seat four people and it was only set for two.

      It was beautifully set with crisp, white linen, sparkling silverware and immaculate crystal that caught the soft light of the Tiffany lamp on the window side of the table. The carriage might be crowded with other diners but it felt like he and Charlotte were enclosed in a bubble of their own. He was glad that she hadn’t had a different dress to wear because this silver sheath was gorgeous and so very appropriate for the season. It made her eyes look like a dark shade of silver instead of grey. Or was that because they were catching such a warm glow from the light?

      Or perhaps it was the champagne he had ordered. She certainly seemed to be enjoying the Moët, even if she wasn’t clearing her plate with each delicious course that arrived. He had polished off the entrée and then demolished the main course of traditional roast turkey with chestnut stuffing.

      Conversation had proved easier than he’d expected, having been deprived of Jendi’s company. They’d started out with the practical matter of sleeping arrangements for the night.

      ‘I’ll stay in the bar for a while,’ Nico had told Charlotte. ‘And then I’ll come back to the cabin and sleep on the seat. You can close the connecting door when you go to bed.’

      He’d asked if she knew what would happen tomorrow.

      ‘We get to Paris around dawn,’ she’d told him. ‘When we get to the end of the French line for the Orient Express, we have to get off and there are special buses that we stay on for the channel crossing. The English branch of the train takes us into Victoria Station. I think we get in at about five p.m.’

      As the plates for the main course were taken away, Charlotte allowed her champagne glass to be refilled. Did her smile look a little forced as she held it up to Nico in a toast?

      ‘What will you do?’ she asked brightly. ‘When we’ve arrived back in London? For Christmas Eve, I mean.’

      Nico shrugged. ‘I expect I’ll go to work and catch up on any inpatients. I’m covering a big area for the next few days. I like to give my colleagues as much time as possible to be with their families over Christmas. And you? What will you be doing?’

      Charlotte turned her head to look out the window, although there was nothing to see in the darkness.

      ‘I’ll go out to Gran’s.