“I didn’t take your blasted plant. You probably pulled it out and hid it away when I told you, you couldn’t have it. Ask your pretty little wife about the letters she received. She probably did it to spite me.” He shifted his attention to the two young men milling between the trees with their heads down and yelled, “And if I see any of you trespassing on my property, you will pay dearly.”
Shoving Eilian hard in the chest, he pushed past without looking back. Eilian’s heart skipped off rhythm as he grasped for the nearest tree, narrowly avoiding slipping into the pool. He looked up to see Nash storming up the path to the drawing room, muttering to himself and shaking his head.
Before Nash disappeared out of sight, the sergeant appeared at the library door and hollered, “Go home to your wife, you bloody bastard! You’ve caused enough trouble already.”
Nash turned, eyes blazing. His thin hands contorted into clawed fists as he advanced toward the officer. Catching his balance, Eilian darted between them.
“Both of you please leave,” the earl said, his voice calm but strained.
His eyes flicked from the academic to the policeman. Neither moved or removed their gaze from the other. The officer stood with his chest puffed out and his hand resting on his club while Nash eyed him with contempt.
“Now. Please go. Sergeant Purcell, I will not be pressing charges. Whoever did it is long gone. Please take your men and leave the premises. Same to you, Mr. Nash. You already know where we stand.”
Turning from Nash, the sergeant smiled smugly and glanced over his shoulder at Hadley, who stood watching the men from the doorway with her arms folded. “I look forward to your party, your ladyship. I do hope you don’t cancel it,” pausing to widen his grin, he added, “and I hope to see you there too, Nash. You and Rubella. You really shouldn’t keep her all to yourself. It ain’t fair to the rest of us.”
Nash’s face paled and his eyes bugged. For a moment, Eilian feared he would strike the stalwart officer. He braced himself to absorb the blow or have to force the men apart, but instead, Nash gave the sergeant one last dirty look and left the way he came.
“Osgood, Lyall, pack it in!” Purcell yelled to his constables.
Releasing a tense breath, Eilian looked back at the library door. Hadley was gone. His gaze ran over the palm and pomegranate trees blocking the mosaic floor at the end of the path, but she was nowhere to be found.
“Bernard, please see the men out,” Eilian called, ducking out of the greenhouse.
Trailing down the hall, he glanced into each room, hoping to find her standing at a window or meticulously deconstructing a clock or gadget, but all he found was Charlotte’s younger sister in the parlor looking up at him with a cleaning rag clutched in her chapped hands.
“Lidia, have you seen Hadley?” When her brown brows knit in confusion, he added, “Her ladyship.”
The mute teen shook her head. Walking into the great hall, he glanced into the dining room, already knowing she wouldn’t be there. As he his eyes rose to the arcade, it dawned on him. How could he have been so stupid? He trotted up the steps and followed the floral carpet runner through the halls to their bedroom. Light shone from beneath the door, punctuated by shadowed steps as his wife crossed the floor within.
“Hadley, may I come in?” he asked, gently rapping with his metal knuckles.
The door flew open beneath his hand. Hadley glared up at him in only her chemise and corset, her pale freckled shoulders peaking from beneath the silk. “You don’t have to knock, you know. It’s your room, too.”
His face reddened as he slunk in and shut the door behind him. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t know if you were changing or sleeping. I didn’t want to intrude.”
She kept her back to him as she dug through her dresser, pulling out nightgowns and fresh undergarments only to drop them in a heap on the floor. As she found the stockings she was searching for, her shoulders sagged with fatigue, her flare of anger losing its momentum.
“I didn’t mean to be curt, Eilian. I’m just frustrated. After all the work I put into planning and cleaning, this happens! I just can’t believe it. Should we just call it all off?”
“You mean the party, right?”
Stuffing everything back into the drawer, she turned to meet her husband’s anxious gaze. “Of course I mean the party. What did you think I meant?” Her voice caught as she watched him rub his arm and stare down at his feet. “Oh, Eilian. I would never do that. How could you even think that?”
“Because I couldn't blame you if you wanted to. It's perfectly reasonable for a woman to leave a man who neglects her. Men do it all the time.”
Hadley drifted to his side and wrapped her arms around his chest. Pulling her close, his arms closed around her waist until their sides were flush. He rested his head against her neck as she ran her fingers through his hair, teasing it into unruly peaks.
“I’m not going to leave you,” she whispered. “I love you, Eilian. It’s just hard to take it all in.”
“If it’s really important to you, I guess I could try to do it,” he replied, his voice tight and controlled.
“You don’t have to yet. I’m not going to force you to do something that obviously upsets you. Then neither of us would enjoy ourselves.”
His lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Then, I don’t have to go to the party?”
“Nice try, but you aren’t that lucky.” Sighing, she shifted her hold and settled onto Eilian’s knee. “So you think I should still have it?”
He nodded. “I don’t think you have to cancel it. It was a theft, not a murder. The question is do you want to call it off?”
Hadley drew in a tremulous breath and smoothed her hair behind her ears. “No. I mean, I don’t know. I’m dreading it as much as I’m looking forward to it.”
“Then, cancel it. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, and after what happened today, you have the perfect excuse.”
“But the whole reason I’m throwing this party is to prove I can do it. If I cancel, then I’ve failed and proven Mrs. Nash right.”
Her tired eyes burned at the thought of having to tell everyone in Folkesbury of her failure. Mrs. Nash and her Society of Visiting Ladies would have something to chat about next Wednesday, and that was far worse than breaking the news to her mother-in-law. Lady Dorset would probably be relieved to have her staff back.
“I just wanted to prove to myself that I could throw a party like Constance or your mother, that I’m not just some uncultured tinker.”
“Had, is that what you think you are?” Eilian raised Hadley’s chin until her scalded blue eyes met his. They gleamed with suppressed frustration and fatigue but never wavered. “You are the brightest, most tenacious person I know. Who else would have the smarts to keep her family’s business going while still running her own without help from anyone? Who else would go so far as to dress like a man?”
“I don’t know if that would qualify as smart.”
“Call it clever then.” He rubbed her arms, but as she opened her lips to speak again, he caught them with his own, silencing her self-doubt with a kiss. “So what if you don’t know how to throw a party? I don’t know how, and I’m sure my mother didn’t either until someone taught her. You will learn with time. Soon, you will be the talk of London society.”
A laugh escaped her lips against her will. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still need to get through this one. Can you unlace me? I need to change before I prepare for our borrowed servants’ arrival. They should be here by nightfall.”
“That should calm Patrick at least. Had, Nash mentioned that you received letters from him. What was he talking about?”
Hadley held up her hair, so he could see the back of her girdle. “I have no idea. The only letters I have received are responses for the party and the ones from your mother and Eliza.”
Leaning back, he untied her stays and gently tugged until her corset’s grip slackened. Her body exhaled as she loosen
ed it further with three well-placed pulls and finally unhooked the front. As she let it drop on the edge of the bed, she swallowed a yawn and took a step toward the wardrobe, but Eilian’s gentle hand caught her wrist and pulled her back to his side.
“You have been up all night, Had. Why don’t you take a rest?”
She hungrily eyed the bed’s plush folds and rumpled pillows. Snapping to her senses, she half-heartedly pulled her hand away and began searching the dresser for clean stockings. “I can’t. Who will tend to the servants and get them trained?”
“Patrick and Charlotte will do both. I don’t think either of us could do a better job, and I’m certain Mother’s servants don’t need much more direction than getting the lay of the land.”
“I supposed you’re right.” Hadley looked over her shoulder to find her husband removing his waistcoat and shirt. “What are you doing?”
“I thought I would join you. I only had a few hours of sleep.” Tossing his tie onto the nightstand, he sheepishly said, “The guest room was rather lonely. It didn’t feel right to sleep without you by my side. I was hoping we could pretend that last night never happened. That is, if you will have me back.”
A smile crept across her lips as she abandoned her fresh clothing on the dresser and climbed onto the bed. When Eilian had removed his trousers and stood only in his drawers, she began detaching the springs and outer corset of his prosthesis. He sunk into the bed beside her and inched closer, extending his naked prosthesis under her neck and around her shoulder as she settled in with her head on his chest. Closing her eyes, she listened to the steady tattoo of his heart beneath the layers of roped burns and bone. She ran her hand across the lean muscles of his abdomen until she found his other hand resting against his stomach. Their fingers intertwined, and with little shifts and sighs, their bodies folded into the comfort of their natural grooves. In the stillness, she listened to his breathing slow with contentment. Despite their comfort, she felt the words climbing up her throat. She had to say it. He had to know.
“Eilian,” she began hesitantly, “I’m not talking about right now, so please don’t take this as me pushing you, but in time, if you ever become curious or consider doing anything, just know I will always be there. I’m not going to leave you or make you feel guilty about it again. If I ever do, I don’t mean to.”
His mouth shifted into a half-smile. Catching her hand, he brought it to his lips before lowering it to his breast where he tightened his grip. “I appreciate that, Had, and I want you to know that I will try. It may take a little while, but I am trying.”
“I know.”
Eilian snuggled closer and held her against his side. Drawing in a deep breath, he inhaled her familiar fragrance of cinnamon with a hint of gear oil. When he was certain she had nodded off, he gently ran his fingers through the silken curls of her henna hair. For his whole life, he did everything in his power to escape rejection and failure before they could tear apart what little love he had for himself. He had run from his father, his university, his duties, but he wouldn’t run from her. No, for Hadley, he would stay and fight.
Chapter Seventeen
Expectations
“Leona! Leona, let’s go!” Nadir called through the lavatory door, banging it with the flat of his palm. “We’re going to be late.”
“Go on without me,” she croaked.
Stepping back into his bedroom, Nadir primped in front of the mirror. With the edge of his finger, he smoothed the smudge of charcoal beneath his lashes.
“I’m not leaving without you. I already told Lady Dorset you were coming. Anyway, Argus is waiting out in the steamer. If you’re worried about Lady Dorset or any of those rubes you call neighbors, I wouldn’t be. I’m sure you can dance a waltz as well as anyone... even if it is with Argus.”
The bathroom door creaked open, and his cousin stumbled out, wiping her lips with a handkerchief. She drew in a rattling breath and slowly straightened to her full height. Gripping the front her butterscotch gown, she clenched her jaw as she rode out another wave of nausea. At least during her dry heaves, she hadn’t stained it.
“You look dreadful,” he said, his reflection watching her as he brushed the lint from his red velvet tailcoat.
“And you look like Lord Byron. I didn’t know it was a fancy dress party.”
Nadir snickered as he applied another swipe of black beneath his eyes, dragging the line to a thick point at its corner. “Good, then I’ve gotten my point across. What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m sick as a dog, can’t you tell?” Leona replied, leaning against the doorframe for support.
He shrugged. “It’s probably all of that disgusting licorice tea you have been drinking. It smells foul.”
“I have been taking it to make this go away. Don’t you think the turban is a bit much?”
“No, it completes the look, and besides, Byron wore a turban. They will be expecting it of me.”
Satisfied with his cosmetic calligraphy, Nadir eyed his reflection. In his layers of colorful silk and rich velvet, he was the picture of decadence. His friends in Bloomsbury would have applauded his daring, his rejection of English traditionalism in favor of art and beauty, but even he knew he was simply playing on the English’s love of the exotic. There was no subversion in it anymore apart from refusing to blend. Part of him enjoyed flaunting his well-carved cheekbones and the nutty hue of his skin, which glowed when put against the bright silk of his turban. There was no rush like strutting into a party and having all eyes fall upon him, to hear the chorus of whispers asking, “Who is he?”
He averted his gaze from the mirror and turned his attention to his shoes. In the end, it was all a gimmick, a game to make others remember his face and name without associating either with dusty natives or crumbling piles of stone. Nadir Talbot wasn’t some Egyptian boy whose parents boosted him up into society by pretending his skin wasn’t too brown or that his features were too fine in some places and too wide in others. No, Nadir Talbot was exotic, an Aesthete who not only created art but was a work of art. He was to be taken seriously, not held up as some lucky victim of happenstance.
Swallowing hard, he ripped his thoughts away and stared at his cousin. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead as she stood waiting for him in the doorway. Her mustard gown stretched across her bodice, pulling at the armpits and breasts.
“Is that what you’re wearing?”
“Yes,” she replied flatly. “You wanted me out. Now, I’m out, and you’re primping. It’s getting late. Are we going or not?”
Adjusting his turban and practicing his smoldering gaze one last time, Nadir followed her out the door. It was time for him to make his entrance.
***
By the time they arrived at Brasshurst Hall, the gravel drive was lined with idling steamers waiting to reach the manor’s Gothic portal. On the drizzly night, no one had chanced walking through the muddy fields to reach the great house or risked their necks to share the gravel paths with cabs in the grey haze. If he hadn’t brought his steamer, they would have been slogging through the mist on foot.
The house rose from the mist, its stone exterior taking on an ethereal sheen from the wavering glow of the gas lamps within as it spilled from the tall arched windows and overflowed from the skylights and orangery dome. Even from the old stone bridge, Nadir could make out the orbs of faerie lamps hovering in the jungle of the greenhouse. As he stared, they flickered and danced, occasionally blinking when an unseen figure crossed before them.
“Did I tell you that Lady Dorset modeled the decorations after my description of those parties my parents used to throw in the vineyard?” he declared offhandedly, but when he received only a stifled groan in response, he turned to find his cousin shifting uncomfortably in the seat beside him. “Leona, are you—”
Before he could finish, she grabbed the flesh on the back of his arm and pinched it hard enough that he cried out. As he opened his mouth to speak, she put her finger to her lips and glowere
d at him. She nodded toward Argus who inched the cab forward unaware of what was transpiring in the backseat. Drawing in a constrained breath, she exhaled slowly and closed her eyes.
Nadir tapped the back of her hand until she looked up at him. He mouthed, “Are you all right?”
Her dark brows knit together as she grimaced and silently replied, “Don’t say anything, I’m fine.”
“I do hope there are drinks there. The earl and countess aren’t temperate are they?”
“Even if they were, what do you need alcohol for, Argus? You see these people every day,” Nadir replied with a scoff.
“I don’t see them all at once. There will be so many people. Just look at all the cabs. Everyone’s here.”
“Thank God you don’t live in London then. You would drink yourself to death.”
“Nadir, leave him alone,” his cousin replied in a strained whisper.
Sitting in silence, the procession of steamers filed toward the house and disappeared around the corner as liveried servants moved the cars out of sight. At the entrance, the footman opened the door to allow Leona and Argus to step out. Nadir drew in a calming breath, pursed his lips, and concentrated his energy into cultivating his signature stare. A waiting servant took their coats as they crossed the tunneled hall. In the cloistered space, the din of voices and music seemed so far away, but the energy hummed only yards beyond his reach. Hundreds of people waited just beyond the threshold and all that held them back was a layer of ancient stone.
Stepping into the great hall, the ceiling rose away and with it came the bouncing melody of a merry waltz. The men and women of Folkesbury mingled in clumps around the roaring hearths or in front of the grand paintings hanging over the tropical tapestries, laughing and chattering as if they did not see each other every day. The guests came in their least mended suits and best gowns. Some he recognized from the shop windows in Poole when he and Lady Dorset ventured there together. Others wore their Sunday best, reworked with new trimmings and mended to appear fresh. Leaving his cousin behind, Nadir cut through the crowd. With each step, he drank in the sights and sounds of the party, feeding off the cadence and energy of those around him. Perfume mingled with the savory aroma of food in the dining room and the tart champagne and wine waiting on platters. In the midst of it all, he closed his eye. He had to commit everything to memory, so he could put it to good use later.
The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Box Set Page 68