The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Box Set

by Kara Jorgensen

  With a satisfied grin, he found that his plan had worked. Once one pair of eyes fell upon him, the others turned to catch a glimpse of his purple, red, and gold attire as he swept through the hall. He paused long enough in each room to be seen before casually strolling through the open door in the drawing room to the orangery. It was just as he had envisioned it on his first visit. The massive mosaic floor had been cleared of pots and dirt to make room for a string quartet. Around the perimeter stood massive iron candelabras, but instead of having tapers stuffed into the bases on each arm, a colored glass globe containing a squat candle hung from them on decorative hooks. Blue orbs hovered around the dance floor as couples whirled in measured steps while red lamps trailed down the path toward the pool. Following the line of scarlet light, Nadir’s eyes wandered over the milling crowd, and at the edge, he spotted the countess standing alone as the earl slipped into the house. Snatching a flute of champagne from a passing footman, Nadir sauntered over.

  Hadley’s eyes lit up at the sight of his familiar brown eyes and sharp cheekbones amid a sea of draped fabric. “Mr. Talbot, is that you? Somehow I knew you would be dressed to the nines, but I hadn’t pictured something quite so ornate. Is it traditional garb?”

  “Not in the slightest,” he purred, turning for her so she could get a better view of his printed silks and fine jacket. “It’s my own creation.”

  When she had finished taking him in, his gaze ran over her gown. It was nearly the same cornflower blue of her eyes. Traveling up her skirt and around her bodice were tendrils of white piping that formed an intricate lattice, laid to accentuate the lines of her form. Her dark red hair and lightly freckled skin popped against her elegant dress and white gloves.

  “Eilian surprised me with this the other day. He saved me from one headache at least.”

  “Very nice. Your husband has excellent taste.” Leaning closer, he whispered into her ear, “Any problems?”

  “No, shockingly. Mrs. Negi and my mother-in-law’s cook have come to a truce, the musicians showed up, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, and my husband hasn’t slipped upstairs to hide yet. What do you think, Mr. Talbot? You are the expert, after all.”

  He turned to watch the couples, young and old locking eyes and hands, turning in time with the music. “I think you have won them over.”

  ***

  Eilian drew in a lungful of damp, earthy air. The orangery hummed with life. Couples strolled arm in arm down the paved paths with glasses of champagne or wine in their hands as if the mossy dome was a botanical garden. Even in the light of the jarred candles, the orchids with their otherworldly conformations thrilled their guests. Several had even asked the earl what this or that plant was, yet the robbery and his prosthetic arm seemed to be forgotten or ignored. Whether it was due to disinterest or good-breeding, he couldn’t tell.

  He circled through the main rooms, offering how-do-you-dos and pleasure-to-meet-yous to their guests. With each group he spoke to, the anxiety loosened in his breast. He had expected the party to be a miserable experience like the ones his mother threw, yet he found himself smiling and drifting through the crowd as if he had done it a hundred times. No one was trying to manipulate him into finding a mate or goading him into an argument. Being one of the hosts, he had expected to be worrying about food or whether they had hung the right pictures, but Hadley had every gear in place and oiled to run smoothly. Patrick and his mother’s servants made sure there was plenty of food and liquor flowing from the kitchen and wine cellar, and for the men, they had set up a room where they could play cards. It was a party and nothing more.

  Smiling and nodding, he passed through a room of young women speaking eagerly around the samovar. Once he confirmed that Leona and Argus Rhodes were not there, he looped back out and moved on to the next room. He had hoped to discuss his article about the Ptolemaic Dynasty with him. While the review in The Royal Egyptology Society Chronicle had been favorable, something felt off. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something about the writing had nagged at the back of his mind since he finished it.

  Returning to the entrance of the orangery, a grin crept across his lips. Hadley stood at the edge of the dance floor talking happily with Constable Lyall and his pretty young wife. At her side, Nadir Talbot’s gaze flitted over the crowd as if searching for someone, but when he didn’t see his quarry, he frowned and threw back his drink before fluidly placing it onto an oncoming tray. As the couple moved on to join the others lining up for the next dance, Eilian slipped in and wrapped his arm around Hadley’s waist. Thus far, no one had seemed to notice that one of his hands was made of metal.

  “Mr. Talbot, I must thank you for helping Hadley with the party. I fear I was of no use,” Eilian said, watching the couples on the dance floor switch partners until he was unsure who belonged with whom.

  “It was my pleasure, but Lady Dorset should take all the credit. She has done a wonderful job; the ambiance has exceeded my expectations. This alone should give me inspiration for a month.”

  “How is the book going?”

  Nadir caught another glass of champagne as a footman strutted past. “Swimmingly, for once. Our lady has escaped the harem and reappeared in the court masquerading as a princess from a foreign land. I only have a few chapters left. That should get my publisher off my back.”

  “Is that why we haven’t seen you?” Hadley replied, watching the writer absently finger the end of his turban. “I figured you were either stopped up or writing nonstop.”

  “The latter luckily.”

  “Mr. Talbot, did you come alone or are your cousin and her husband with you? I wanted to speak to Argus about his article.”

  “They should be here. Leona wasn’t feeling very well, so they may be sitting somewhere.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Yes, just a touch of stomach trouble.” He craned his neck to see over the crowd, but as his eyes reached the path from the pool, they narrowed. “God, why did they have to come?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Keeping Secrets

  Hadley and Eilian turned, simultaneously spotting Nash with his grey-hair and aquiline features ambling across the cobbles, sneering at the colored lanterns and merry villagers. On his arm, Mrs. Nash stiffly followed in a dower brown gown, her thin lips lined and pinched. As they cut through the crowd and everyone’s eyes fell upon them, the atmosphere contracted and cracked. The gaiety felt only a moment earlier evaporated as the others straightened and fell silent. Dancing couples dissolved mid-song, drifting back to their original partner before disappearing into another room with a sidelong glance and a harsh whisper. Eilian shot his wife a questioning look.

  “Yes, I invited them,” Hadley explained, sweeping an invisible hair from her forehead. “I did it to be polite, but I didn’t think they would actually show up. Should we say anything?”

  “No,” Eilian replied with a sigh and watched Nash settle into position at the corner of the mosaic where he could survey the room. He hoped the sergeant would stay far enough away him to not cause another uproar. “I know his type. If he’s anything like my father, he’s looking for a scene, and we won’t provide him with one. I won’t let Nash ruin your party.”

  A wan smile played on Nadir’s lips. “Though it seems tossing him out would bring most of the town a lot of pleasure.”

  With a laugh, Hadley tore her eyes from Nash only to land upon Argus Rhodes’s broad form as he slowly led his wife into the domed room. She clung to his arm, her back hunched and her eyes crinkled at the edges as she shuffled in. His bespectacled gaze roamed over the crowd before he lifted his glass to his lips and took a long swig. A footman approached them with a plate of hors d'oeuvres, and while Argus loaded his wide palm, his wife greened and waved the canapés away.

  Leaving the men at the dance floor, Hadley strode to Leona’s side. The dark-haired woman gave her grimace barely disguised as a tight smile. She tried to straighten, but when she nearly reached her full height,
she recoiled with a hiss.

  “Mrs. Rhodes, are you feeling all right? Should I fetch a doctor?” she asked low enough that only the two women could hear.

  “No, thank you,” Leona Rhodes replied through harsh breaths, her chest tight with pain. “I’m fine.”

  “I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but you don’t look fine.”

  Before Leona could respond, Hadley slipped her arm around her shoulders and dislodged her from Argus’s grasp. When he realized who was taking his wife, he relinquished his hold and trudged over to Nadir and Eilian for companionship. Leona held her breath as another wave of pain ripped through her abdomen. The only tell-tale sign of her plight was her nails digging into Hadley’s arm as they crossed the tiled floor. An iron chair stood empty only a few yards away, but already she seemed to be worsening. The pain coursed through her body and into her fingertips where Hadley felt its aftershocks, and the flesh of her face was no longer a healthy olive but a sickly grey coated with a layer of sweat. Helping her into the chair, Hadley motioned for the nearest footman.

  “Fetch me a wet rag from the kitchen. No stops in between,” she ordered before kneeling beside Nadir’s cousin, who had wrapped her arms across her stomach and leaned forward into the pain. Hadley pressed her hand to Leona’s brow and then her cheek. “Mrs. Rhodes, you have a fever. You shouldn’t have come if you were ill. If you’re worried about leaving Nadir or Mr. Rhodes, I can have one of our men drive you home, but honestly, I do not think you should be by yourself.” She lowered her voice and asked, “Is it cramps?”

  Leona bit her lip and shook her head, still clutching her stomach. Sucking in a breath, she looked past Hadley with tears glistening at the edges of her eyes. Her gaze suddenly hardened, but when Hadley followed it, she found Nash staring at them. She looked between Mrs. Rhodes and the troublesome gentleman, their expressions unreadable in the flickering lamplight. Letting out a stifled groan, Leona broke away from his grey eyes. Hadley squeezed her hand and stood up. What had possessed her to come in that state?

  “Stay here. I’m going to find your husband.”

  Anger bubbled in Hadley’s chest. Was the man daft or did he simply not care? A minute with his wife and she could feel the tremor in her hand with each stroke of pain and the heat that radiated from her fevered body. She hoped to God Argus Rhodes was merely a fool who was easily placated by reassurances. Being an idiot was much more forgivable than being a callous spouse. The men stood where she had left them with Eilian questioning the Egyptologist about his paper. The large man’s black eyes were glazed with drink as he stumbled over his words. He rubbed his ruddy cheeks and muttered half to himself about the Ptolemy’s lineage. Eilian arched a brow and leaned closer, still unable to make sense of his explanation.

  At their side, she swallowed her anger and said as politely as she could muster, “Your wife is ill, Mr. Rhodes. She needs to return home at once. She is in no shape to be at a party. I suggest you leave immediately.”

  He stared down at her, his mouth hanging agape as if he didn’t understand, but before he could reply, Nadir’s shoulder collided with his. He shoved past and into the crowd, his silk turban unwinding behind him.

  “Dear God, Leona! Someone call for a doctor!” he bellowed.

  Hadley turned in time to watch Leona Rhodes slump off the garden chair and land in a heap of mustard muslin. Reaching her side first, Nadir rolled her onto her back, but as he went to pat her cheek, he drew back, eyes wide. Smeared across his hand was a streak of blood. Looking down at the floor beside him, his eyes followed a thin line of droplets that trailed from the dance floor to the chair, pooling beneath where she had sat to form a saucer-sized puddle of liver-colored blood. Behind him, a murmur of hushed voices grew louder as news spread of her collapse. They were growing closer, their bodies breaking the orbs of glowing light from the lanterns and closing off the air.

  “Leona, stay with me,” he whispered to her listless form.

  She groaned and gasped, the cords of her neck straining against the pain, but her eyes remained shut. He had never seen her so pale. Against her black hair and his tawny hands, her face appeared nearly white with the only color in the heated flush of her cheeks. Breaking from the crowd, Lady Dorset rushed to his side with a damp cloth. She dabbed the sweat from Leona’s neck and cheeks before laying it across her forehead.

  Hadley’s eyes drifted to the blood before returning to Nadir’s face, which had blanched to nearly the color of his cousin’s. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched the crowd press in for a better look. “We should move her up to a guest room. Can you lift her?”

  He nodded, climbing to his knees. Her head rolled against his shoulder as he struggled to raise her to a standing position so he could get a better grip. Where was the doctor? Someone should have been there by now. His head swam. The earl was yelling, telling everyone to make a path for them. As Nadir slipped his arms beneath her legs to lift her, the breath caught in his throat. A sticky crimson mandala seeped across the back of her skirt, trickled down her stockings, and through her petticoat. On the front of her dress, a faint splotch slowly materialized, growing wider before his eyes. Raising his gaze as he hefted her into his arms, Nadir met Nash’s probing grey eyes. While everyone watched in confusion, Nash stared, his cold gaze softening. He lingered on the blood before pausing on her breasts and the line where the fabric of her bodice and skirt joined.

  He knew. Whatever was going on, he knew.

  ***

  Nadir turned his good luck charm over in his hand, feeling its familiar lopsided surface roll beneath his fingers. His turban and jacket lay in a heap on the coverlet where they had been shed in a flurry of frustration and fear. His body, heavy with fatigue, sagged into the wooden chair, but at the slightest noise in the hall, he awoke. He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, not caring if he smeared the black powder of his eyeliner across his face. He should have convinced her to go to London.

  He had brought Leona home in the back of his steamer with the town physician following close behind, and the doctor had yet to emerge from her room. Argus had been too upset and drunk to drive and rode with the doctor instead. Luckily, halfway home Leona had regained consciousness, though Nadir couldn’t tell which was worse: not knowing if she would wake again or listening to her sobs and gasps of pain while he could only drive through the drizzle and fog. Not much had been said after that. The door had been slammed in his face while Argus haunted the downstairs rooms. He couldn’t bear to listen to his mutterings and mantras of Leona’s good health or virtue. If he had to share a room with him a moment longer than necessary, he would strike the useless oaf. How Leona stayed with him, he couldn’t imagine.

  At the squeal of the bedroom door, Nadir leapt from his desk. Dr. Sturgis stood in the hall in his shirt sleeves with a bloody rag in one hand and his dinner jacket in the other. He had a boyish face even though he was in his thirties, but his eyes were quick and his manner short. For a town physician, he at least seemed capable. His light eyes swept appraisingly over Nadir’s half-open shirt and soot-streaked skin.

  “How is she, doctor?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

  “Are you the cousin?” When Nadir nodded, he went on, “She wanted me to speak to you. The bleeding and cramps will persist for another few days, but she will be fine. At her age, failed pregnancies are fairly common. Will you relay the news to her husband? He seemed distraught.”

  A failed pregnancy? Why had she not told him she was with child? “I will deal with him. May I see her?”

  “Go ahead, but I gave her a bit of morphine for the pain. I don’t know how awake she will be. I will return tomorrow to check on her.”

  When the doctor’s slow tread plunked down the steps, Nadir pushed open the door. Despite the late hour, the lights had been left ablaze, and his cousin lay in bed with the quilt pulled up to her shoulders and a fire crackling in the hearth. Thick curls ringed her lax face, which had finally regained some of its color
. She reminded him of the porcelain doll she lugged around as a child, a smaller, more perfect version of herself. Settling on the edge of the bed, Nadir gently brushed the hair from her eyes, but as he touched her forehead, she stared up at him.

  “You look like a pirate.”

  Nadir shook his head and wiped at the streaks of charcoal. “How are you feeling, Lee?”

  “Lee.” A drowsy smile crossed her lips as let out a weak chuckle. “You haven’t called me Lee since we had a governess.”

  “You have always been my Lee.” When she pulled her hand out to push her hair from her face, Nadir held it. “Why did you go to the party if you were that ill? If you told me, I would have gotten a doctor.”

  She shook her head. Her voice came tremulous and strained as she replied, “I thought I could handle it. We can’t afford it, anyway. I don’t know how we’re going to pay Dr. Sturgis.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I will take care of it.” He swallowed hard and squeezed her hand. “The doctor told me what happened. Why didn’t you say anything about the baby?”

  “Dr. Sturgis didn’t tell Argus, did he?” she asked, her eyes bright with panic.

  “No, I don’t think so since he asked me to do it, but shouldn’t he know? Did you not know you were with child?”

  “I knew, but you can’t tell Argus.”

  “Why? It was his child, too. Even he will understand that a miscarriage isn’t your fault.”