“That’s it!”
Jemima’s exclaim bounced off the walls of the conservatory, but it had no ears to enter but her own. “Instant fire,” she breathed, but then frowned when the flames began to grow. “Very flammable. Enough to make an easier solution, perhaps, but…”
She began to make notes on what she was observing within the liquid, but after a moment her face began to burn from the heat, and she looked up in front of her.
“Oh, bollocks.”
Instead of reducing itself to embers as she had planned, it seemed the fire had caught hold of a stray piece of paper. Jemima hurried to push away all materials that surrounded the bowl on the table, so nothing else could catch fire. Except… the table itself.
“No… no, no, no!” she yelled out as the fire – a bright orange, she noted – began to dance over the edge of the metal bowl, nearly licking the table beside them.
“Stop!” she commanded it as she searched the room for something to smother the flames. But would that help? Or would the new substance she had created be strong enough to continue to feed the fire without oxygen? She could only try.
Jemima tried not to panic, tamping down the vision of her brother’s beautiful, completely renovated and newly finished London mansion crumbling to the ground in flames she had created. She stifled a sob as she ripped down a window covering before throwing them atop the table, attempting to beat out the fire.
For a moment, all seemed settled and she took a breath of relief as she willed her heart to resume its normal beating. It’s fine. All is fine, she repeated to herself.
And then a flicker of orange surged up through the drapes.
~~~~~
Archie Thompkins began to unwrap the cotton that he had twisted around his knuckles to protect them as best he could while training. He hung them on the wall hook beside those of his best friend – and employer.
“Well, Archie,” chuckled Valentine St. Vincent, the sixth Duke of Wyndham, “You have bested me again. You know, most would allow me to win.”
Archie shrugged. “That’s why you keep me around, is it not? To have an honest man among your company?”
“You are correct,” Val said, running a hand through his hair, as damp with sweat as Archie’s was. “If it weren’t for you, I couldn’t keep my skills up.”
“The fancy lords don’t give you a good fight?”
Val laughed at that, the two of them sharing in their derision for the men who had now become Val’s equals – in social ranking, at any rate.
“I appreciate it as much as you do,” Archie said with nonchalance – he couldn’t allow too much sentiment to come between them. As old and as fast friends as they may be, he knew Val wouldn’t appreciate him going soft. “I need a box now and then to keep me sane.”
Val nodded in understanding, and the two of them began to walk out of the room that had been transformed from a gallery into a boxing ring and training room.
Val may be the renowned fighter, but they were as much of a team as ever could be in the sport. That, and Archie had introduced him to it, although he himself would never fight again.
Archie opened the door and began to walk with Val through the adjoining gallery to the shower that Val’s architect wife, Rebecca, had designed. Val continued to insist that Archie didn’t really need to actually work as a valet, but Archie was determined to earn his pay. He and Val may have had a similar start to life, but their positions had drastically changed when Val had unexpectedly inherited the title of duke from a distant cousin without direct heirs.
Suddenly, Archie’s attention was caught by a strange scent that began to invade his nostrils. He looked around as he sniffed the air.
“Val…”
“Yes?”
“Do you smell smoke?”
They shared a look for a moment, curious as to what it could be, and then suddenly they both stood at attention and bolted to the door, practically flying through the parlor toward the conservatory in an effort to find Jemima – for she was the most likely explanation.
As they rushed through the windowed room of the conservatory toward the corner which had been converted into Jemima’s laboratory, Archie’s eyes widened in horror at the scene in front of them.
Jemima stood looking over the table with a satisfied smile on her face. Her cheeks were smudged with ash, her spectacles were hanging off of one of her ears, seemingly broken, and her dress had a gaping hole in it which looked suspiciously as though it had fallen victim to flames.
“My God, woman!” he exclaimed before he could help himself, and she shot him a look of contempt.
“I never asked for your help – or your opinion,” she said smartly, but before he could respond, she looked down in front of her again.
“Oh, double blast!” she exclaimed, and then ran to a nearby bench, lifted a cushion, and began beating a stubborn flame with it.
Archie didn’t stop to watch, but ran back through the doors, taking off at a run toward the kitchen. Jemima may have contained the flames for now, but there was a chance she would once again be unsuccessful. He hefted a pot from the stove – much to the cook’s dismay, as she chased after him with obscenities – and turned back toward the conservatory.
He had just turned the corner when he had to come to a sudden stop to prevent himself from colliding with the figure in front of him. As it was, he nearly tripped over the hem of the long dress trailing behind her.
“Mrs. St. Vincent!” he exclaimed, the water sloshing in the pot over his shoulder as he just avoiding spilling the entirety of it all over her. “If you could just step aside for a moment—”
“Step aside?” she exclaimed, stopping and turning around so suddenly that he nearly dropped the pot once more. “Who are you to tell me to step aside, Archie Thompkins?”
He scowled at her admonishment, biting his tongue as he deftly stepped around her, shifting the pot to the other shoulder and sidling by her as though she were nothing more than a pillar. He could hear her calling after him, close on his heels, especially for a woman who hadn’t seen much physical activity since her family had moved to Wyndham House.
In a few steps he had reached the conservatory, where Jemima and Valentine were still battling the flames that refused to quit. He took the pot, hefted it overhead, and poured the water down upon the fire, not caring that it splashed off the table and all over the siblings.
This time, the fire stayed out.
Archie placed the pot on the floor, breathing heavily, before looking around and taking stock of the situation.
“Thank you,” Jemima said, wiping her forehead. “That was close.”
Val reached out and clapped him on the shoulder, until his attention was caught by his mother, who had entered the room and was squawking like a parrot.
“I say,” he heard from behind him, recognizing the voice of Albert Lambert, the father of Rebecca, Valentine’s wife, who had taken up residence with them. “What in tarnation is going on here?”
“It’s fine, Father,” came Rebecca’s soft voice as she trailed in after him. “Just an experiment that had unexpected consequences, I would imagine.”
Then finally, Archie’s gaze came to rest on Jemima. Her blonde hair had fallen out of the headband that always encircled the top of her head, a few strands sticking to her face, either due to the water or perspiration, he wasn’t entirely sure. Her glasses were nowhere to be found, and her lavender dress was now spotted with wetness around the hole, although she didn’t seem to overly care about it.
No, instead, she seemed lost in thought, until her eye caught something that on the floor. She bent and picked up what looked to be a soaked piece of parchment, and she looked at it forlornly.
“Oh no,” she said, her lips turning down into a frown. “My notes… they are illegible.” She lifted the ruined fabric covering the table that seemed to have come from a window covering. “I’m not sure I can remember the exact measurements.”
Archie stared at her incredulou
sly.
“Are you daft?”
He hadn’t realized he had voiced his question aloud until the room silent, and he felt multiple pairs of eyes turned upon him. He cleared his throat as he bent his head in deference. As much as it ate at him inside to do so, despite where they had come from, he had no right to question her thusly.
“My apologies, Jem— Miss St. Vincent. But,” he looked to Val for some support, “I should hardly think that it is prudent to mourn some lost notes when the entire house could have been set ablaze.”
When Jemima turned her stare upon him, those deep blue eyes seemed to cut right through him and into his very soul.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, her words icy. “I am creating fire, Archie. Fire. Did it have some unexpected consequences? Yes. But if I had my calculations, then I could determine what went wrong so that next time I might—”
“Next time? You would try this again?”
“Of course!” she said, throwing her hands into the air. “I cannot quit when I am so close.”
“Had I not brought the water, this entire room might currently be ablaze!” he stated incredulously, ignoring Valentine’s warning look and Jemima’s narrowed eyes. Someone had to say it, and it didn’t seem that Val was going to be the one to do so. “You must be more careful.”
Her eyebrows rose near to her hairline.
“Must I?”
“Yes,” he said, though he took a step backward, unsure now if he had done the right thing in so speaking out. He didn’t think Valentine would see fit to remove him from the household after all they had been through together, but one could never be sure.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said, a frosty smile coming to her lips, “but I think I should be just fine. Now,” she looked around the room at the rest of them, effectively dismissing him, “I am going to go try to salvage what I can from my recollections and I suppose I should change before dinner. My apologies, Val, Rebecca,” she said, nodding at them and completely ignoring Archie. “I had no idea that this would happen. I promise you that next time I will be more careful.”
It took everything within Archie to keep from rolling his eyes. Next time. Damn the woman and her blasted experiments. They were nothing but a nuisance, designed to send them all to an early grave. And yet, no one else seemed inclined to say anything. Sensing that to stay any longer would only cause him to take a step too far, he bent, picked up the pot to return it to the kitchen, and stalked from the room, ignoring them all.
Archie had always thought that no matter how high the St. Vincent family rose, they would never forget who they truly were.
Perhaps he had been wrong.
The Valet Experiment is now available for pre-order on Amazon.
Also by Ellie St. Clair
Standalone
Unmasking a Duke
The Stormswept Stowaway
Christmastide with His Countess
Her Christmas Wish
Happily Ever After
The Duke She Wished For
Someday Her Duke Will Come
Once Upon a Duke’s Dream
He’s a Duke, But I Love Him
Loved by the Viscount
Because the Earl Loved Me
Happily Ever After Box Set Books 1-3
Happily Ever After Box Set Books 4-6
Searching Hearts
Duke of Christmas
Quest of Honor
Clue of Affection
Hearts of Trust
Hope of Romance
Promise of Redemption
Searching Hearts Box Set (Books 1-5)
The Unconventional Ladies
Lady of Mystery
Lady of Fortune
Lady of Providence
Lady of Charade
Blooming Brides
A Duke for Daisy
A Marquess for Marigold
An Earl for Iris
A Viscount for Violet
The Blooming Brides Box Set: Books 1-4
The Bluestocking Scandals
Designs on a Duke
Inventing the Viscount
Discovering the Baron
The Valet Experiment
The Victorian Highlanders
Callum’s Vow
Finlay’s Duty
Adam’s Call
Coming Soon
Roderick’s Purpose
Peggy’s Love
About the Author
Ellie has always loved reading, writing, and history. For many years she has written short stories, non-fiction, and has worked on her true love and passion -- romance novels.
In every era there is the chance for romance, and Ellie enjoys exploring many different time periods, cultures, and geographic locations. No matter when or where, love can always prevail. She has a particular soft spot for the bad boys of history, and loves a strong heroine in her stories.
The lake is Ellie’s happy place, and when she’s not writing, she is spending time with her son, her Husky/Border Collie cross, and her own dashing duke. She loves reading — of course — as well as running, biking, and summers at the lake.
She also loves corresponding with readers, so be sure to contact her!
www.prairielilypress.com/ellie-st-clair
[email protected]
Discovering the Baron (The Bluestocking Scandals Book 3) Page 19