Chapter Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Eight
On the following Saturday, Rose was waiting with Henry at the train station platform, ready to get on the train that would take them to the airport.
It was the first really hot day, and she was wearing a straw hat with her black dress.
Henry, in a button-down shirt and pants, was pretending not to sweat.
Each of them had a carry-on suitcase. Henry’s was new, made of aluminum.
In it, she’d packed the clothes he’d been wearing when he’d first arrived in her apartment.
She’d taken them to a dry cleaner, who had gotten out the wine stains.
That should’ve made her happy, but she’d teared up as she’d carefully folded the clothes with tissue paper to avoid wrinkles.
Along with his clothes, carefully packed in a box, was the wall clock with the astrolabe now sealed inside.
It had only left room for one change of clothes, but if all went as planned, he wouldn’t be returning.
“Do you have your passport?” Rose asked Henry.
“Yes.” He patted Jason’s messenger bag over his shoulder. She supposed she’d be able to return it to him soon. In a lower voice, he added, “Or rather, I have the passport for Horatio Jones.”
It was fake, and supplied by Jason, of course. “I think Horatio is better for a middle name,” Rose said. “I mean, what’s the nickname for Horatio?”
“Harry or Rory,” Henry said promptly.
“Oh. That’s not so bad. You look more like a Henry, though.”
All day she’d been making idle conversation, doing anything to break the terrible tension of traveling with Henry and pretending they were just friends, while constantly having the urge to either kiss him or cry. Hopefully, she was also distracting him from their upcoming flight.
“I wonder what Horatio means,” she added.
Henry gave her a tight smile. “It means Man of Time.”
“Wow. I guess it does fit you.”
A large man with a very precisely groomed dark mustache and beard approached them. Rose’s first thought was that he was going to ask them for money, although in his clean T-shirt and jeans, he didn’t look broke. He just had a purposeful look about him.
“You’re friends of Jason Yun’s.” It wasn’t a question.
Oh, shit. How did he know that? Rose felt the blood slamming hard in the artery at her neck. Was he law enforcement?
“I beg your pardon,” Henry said testily. “I don’t believe we are acquainted.” The couple who had been standing next to them on the platform walked away, and she couldn’t blame them. But Henry showed no signs of recognizing a threat, which scared her even more.
The big guy glared at him. “I said, you’re friends with Jason Yun.”
Victor Reuter. This guy had to work for him. Reuter could’ve easily suspected that Jason was behind the theft. Maybe he’d even figured out that Henry and Rose were the thieves. Rose wanted to grab Henry’s arm and warn him, but how could she?
Henry scoffed. “I have never heard of the man, not that the company I keep is any of your concern.” He sounded every bit the snobby duke.
Rose desperately wished her pepper spray was still in her purse, but she’d left it at home because she couldn’t take it on a plane.
They were alone on the platform now. Could she do something magical to defend them?
“You’re lying,” the man said flatly. His gaze slid to Rose. “It would be for the best if you two would come with me and answer a few questions.”
The warning bells for the approaching train started ringing.
Henry’s eyes half closed as if the man were being tiresome. “By no means. I am a busy man. Good day, sir.”
The man lurched toward Henry.
In the next moment, Henry punched the man first, across the jaw, hard enough to make a solid cracking sound. The man staggered back.
Rose gasped. What. Was. Happening?
The train was rushing up to the station. She gave a little scream as the stranger swung his fist with all his might at Henry’s face.
Henry dodged it, evading the man’s other fist as well, with shocking fluidity, as Rose realized in a rush, Henry’s suitcase is metal, idiot!
She picked it up as Henry landed another solid punch, this time to the man’s nose, and her straw hat fell off her head as she bashed him in the side of the head with the case.
The guy’s balance had already been off, and he toppled to the ground.
“Another round, motherfucker?” Henry asked.
An incredulous laugh escaped Rose. But Henry was seriously pushing his luck, and the man was already scrambling to his feet—
Thank Goddess. The train doors were open!
She yelled at Henry, “Come on!”
Still clutching his carry-on in both hands, she lurched on board, Henry right behind her. A chime on the train sounded, followed by a cool recorded voice that said, “Caution. The doors are about to close.”
Standing in the aisle, she whirled around to face Henry. “What the hell was that!”
The train lurched forward and Henry caught hold of her with one arm, grabbing a pole with the other for support. He’d grabbed her pink suitcase, she realized, and with one foot, he kept it from rolling away.
“Let’s find a seat,” he suggested.
Rose looked around. Several passengers were staring at them, wide-eyed. They must’ve seen the fight.
A guy in a ball cap held up his hands. “If you want to sit here, I’ll move.”
“No, no. We’re actually really nice,” Rose said to the passengers, smiling to put them at ease. “We’ll, uh, just sit up there.” She pointed to the next car.
Once they sat down, Henry said, “You must inform Jason of this incident at once. Emily, Griffin, and your brother, too.”
“Ugh, you’re right.”
Rose took a couple of minutes to send them a group text, describing the whole incident the best she could. She avoided using Victor Reuter’s name, referring to him as our friend who had the party. Jason had said before that he and Victor Reuter had a history. He might’ve already been on high alert.
When she looked up at Henry again, she said, “I didn’t know you knew how to fight!”
“I didn’t know you did,” he countered. “I told you I’d studied boxing.”
“But as a spectator, right?”
“No. I took lessons from an American prizefighter. I was not good at it at first, to be honest.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “But I did not lean in to the man’s left fist. Dunton would’ve been proud.”
“You’re an astronomer. A duke astronomer. Why would you do that?”
It had been too long since she’d seen Henry smile, and this was a different smile. It was smug. And Goddess, it made him look sexier than ever.
“A gentleman,” he said, “should strive to be capable and competent in every circumstance.”