At last able to avail himself of the window seat, Neville spent the remainder of the day’s journey staring out the window. The rain-soaked scenery rolled by. He hardly noticed it. He saw only Clara. Heard her, too. The velvet soft intonation of her words resonating in his heart and his head.

I don’t regret any of it, you know.

And that kiss in his room above the stables! He could still feel her arms twined about his neck. Her lips on his, so warmly. So sweetly.

“I only wish we had more time together,” she’d said.

He knew now that no amount of time would be enough. Not hours. Not days. It would have to be more than that. It would have to be forever.

Would she want that, too?

He was roused from his thoughts at Basingstoke. On arriving at the station, the two ladies rose to disembark. They struggled with their hamper. “You there, sir,” the one in black taffeta said. “I say, do you mind lending your assistance with our Jemima?”

“Oh, yes,” the one in green velvet chimed in. She cracked open the lid of the hamper. “As you can see—”

“Don’t open the basket, sister!”

It was too late. The cat’s striped head popped out, along with her white front paws. She gave a tremendous leap.

Neville lunged forward and caught her midair.

“Merciful heavens!” Black Taffeta exclaimed.

“Jemima!” Green Velvet cried.

“I have her.” Neville stood, holding the squirming feline tight against his coat. “Open the…the…”

“The hamper? Yes, yes. Open it, sister.”

Neville deposited the cat safely back inside. The ladies closed the lid and latched it. He picked up the hamper under his arm. “Is your c-carriage…?” Nearby, he wanted to say, but the word wouldn’t come.

Fortunately, his meaning was clear enough.

The two women beamed up at him. “Our coachman awaits us near the cabstand,” Black Taffeta said as they followed him out onto the platform.

“Wait until we tell him how you rescued Jemima!” Green Velvet drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “Why, if not for you, she might have been flattened on the track!”

Neville saw them to their waiting carriage. When they were settled inside, he passed them the hamper, and then, amid a profusion of thanks, he tipped his hat and took his leave.

Returning to the platform, he found a bookseller’s stall and purchased a penny novel before boarding the train that would take him the rest of the way.

It was only as he sat down that he registered the decided tension in his muscles. He was out of his element. Out of his depth. He breathed deeply, steeling himself as the next group of passengers joined him in his compartment.