Full Steam Ahead

by Karen Witemeyer

  Nicole’s insistence on seeing the goods Jacob had stolen from the house.

  Her father’s desperation for an heir.

  Her fear that Jenkins’s sons would catch up with her.

  Her odd hesitation when she mentioned the gift she was supposed to present to the man she chose to marry.

  “God save us, Wellborn,” Darius erupted. “Nicole’s got the blasted pirate dagger with her!”

  CHAPTER 25

  Nicole forced herself to finish the inventory of arched flues, cylindrical flues, grate bars, steam drums, water gauges, and blow cocks after Darius left, determined she’d not become one of those weepy damsels who moped just because life handed her a disappointment or two. Things could be much worse, after all. Poor Jacob was a perfect example. All alone in the world. No family. Stealing food to survive until Darius took him in. She’d be self-centered indeed to think her momentary troubles could even compare.

  Closing the logbook, she meandered toward the small window along the back wall, not really paying attention to the scenery before her. She tapped the side of her pencil against the window ledge. There were bound to be kind gentlemen in New Orleans—gentlemen she could respect, perhaps even come to care for in time. She’d make her choice and live a good life. A life that would make her father proud. And eventually, if God blessed her, she’d have children to spend her love upon, children who would be free to follow their hearts when the time came for them to choose a mate. She’d see to that.

  Nicole tried to convince herself she could be content with such a scenario, but her heart rebelled.

  Perhaps her father would be satisfied with an heir who excelled at building steamboat machinery. The pencil slipped from her grasp as the idea wormed its way into her mind. Darius might not have business connections or intimate knowledge of the shipping industry, but the man was certainly intelligent enough to learn. He’d gone from some kind of bookkeeper in his father’s company in New York to a mechanical engineer in a matter of months, conducting scientific experiments that she was sure would lead to safer steam engines in the near future. He might not be the most congenial of men, but she could aid him in that area, smooth out his rough edges when necessity demanded they make social appearances. Surely that would satisfy her father, wouldn’t it?

  Yet in her mind’s eye she pictured Anton Renard as he’d looked the day she left on this crazy journey. Weak. Pale. Barely able to stand. He needed someone who could step in immediately and run the company, not simply a man with a penchant for learning.

  Her father had entrusted her with the Renard family legacy. Hope and pride had radiated from him the morning she’d set out, and oh, how she longed to be the daughter who saved the day. Nicole’s teeth pinched the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t disappoint him, not even for the sake of her own happiness.

  Bending down, she retrieved the fallen pencil and, with it, her practicality. Wishing for things one couldn’t have only led to bitterness and melancholy. She’d do better to count her blessings and turn her mind to making the best of her situation. After all, God could bring good out of any hardship. Hadn’t she said as much to Darius? She’d not prove herself a hypocrite by denying that truth now.

  As she turned away from the window, she caught a glimpse of a familiar wagon standing abandoned outside the barn. So Wellborn had finally returned. The man had become a regular visitor to town of late, but this trip had lasted nearly all day.

  Had something happened? It had been nearly an hour since Darius left, and he wasn’t exactly the type to let frivolous distractions keep him from his work. A sudden thought cut through her calm. The Jenkins brothers. Wellborn had promised to report to her at once if he spotted any strange men around Oakhaven. But if Darius got to him first . . .

  Her stomach lurched. She needed to get back to the house. Check on the dagger. Question Wellborn.

  Nicole clutched the logbook to her breast and hurried out of the workshop. Intent on her destination, she failed to notice Darius until he strode out of the barn directly into her path.

  “Mr. Thornton!” Somehow she managed to reverse her momentum before ramming into him. “I . . . ah . . . didn’t see you there.” A movement to her left drew her gaze. Dread nestled in her stomach. “And . . . Wellborn. What have the two of you been up to?” She forced a laugh from her throat, trying to emulate a teasing tone, but she doubted the strangled sound fooled anyone.

  The butler, who was busy extracting a piece of straw from where it had caught near his cuff as he exited the barn, jerked his head up at her comment. The trace of guilt that flashed in his eyes set fire to her belly.

  They’d been discussing her. For certain.

  Nicole bristled. They had no right to scheme behind her back. Who knew what inadvertent damage they could have caused, no matter how well intentioned their investigation? At once, the mystery behind Wellborn’s repeated town visits cleared like a freshly washed windowpane. He’d been asking around about her. On Darius’s order.

  Heaven help her. Her anonymity was as good as gone.

  “What have you done?” She whispered the accusation, the sound barely audible as she pierced Darius with her stare.

  He reached for her, but she stepped away, sure if he touched her she’d fall apart. “Nicole, I . . .” His words died when she shook her head at him.

  “You can’t always fix everything, Darius. Sometimes tinkering just breaks a machine further, leaving it beyond repair.”

  “But it’s only through tinkering that improvements can be made, that new solutions can be found that would have remained undiscovered otherwise.” Darius closed the distance between them, his eyes imploring. Her heart thudded in her chest, wanting to believe him, wanting to clasp the hope he offered. “I can help you, Nicole,” he said. “Please, let me.”

  It would be so easy to shift her responsibilities onto his broad, capable shoulders. To let him take charge for a while. Yet, even if he could protect her from the Jenkins brothers, that didn’t change the fact that she’d still have to search out a husband in New Orleans—a man other than Darius—to fulfill her pledge to her father.

  She couldn’t let him risk his life, the lives of his staff, the life of young Jacob, to help her when the ultimate outcome would not change. If anyone suffered on her behalf, it would haunt her the rest of her days, knowing she could have prevented it if only she hadn’t weakened and accepted his offer.

  “You’re a good man, Darius Thornton,” she said, lifting her hand to his cheek. His eyes closed a moment as he leaned into her touch. When they opened, they glowed with an intensity that wrenched her heart. Emotion clogged her throat, but she forced the rest of what had to be said past her lips. “I believe in you. In your work with the boilers. In your scientific mind. You will accomplish great things. I know it in my heart. Never forfeit your passion, Darius.”

  It was good-bye, and they both knew it. His slate-blue eyes blazed denial, but she turned from him before he could give it voice. Not caring that she would appear the coward, she grabbed up her skirts and ran to the house.

  Darius lunged after the fleeing Nicole, but a firm hand grabbed his arm from behind.

  “Let her go, Mr. Thornton,” Wellborn cautioned.

  “No.” He’d never let her go. He couldn’t.

  “Not forever. Just for now.”

  Darius flung an impatient glare over his shoulder. “Now may be all I have.” She’d had a look of finality about her as she’d spoken that terrified him. She was leaving Oakhaven. Leaving him.

  “It’s too late in the day for her to go anywhere,” Wellborn stated in an annoyingly logical tone as he released Darius’s arm. “You have time to convince her. Time to woo her over to your way of thinking. And that will be easier to accomplish once you’ve both calmed and you no longer have an audience looking on.”

  Darius pressed his lips together to keep the growl building inside his chest from erupting. Wellborn was right—if Nicole felt backed into a corner, she’d run. Shoot, she
was already running. Stubborn, infuriating woman.

  If he pursued her now, his attempts at persuasion might become a tad too adamant for her taste. She’d likely accuse him of bullying her, and his chances of talking sense into her thick head would go right out the window.

  “Why do women have to be so complicated, Wellborn?” he grumbled.

  The butler shook his head, a hint of a smile lighting his eyes. “I suppose God wanted to ensure we never grew bored, sir.”

  Darius exhaled a long breath and concentrated on relaxing his muscles. He’d give her time to compose herself, but he wasn’t so generous as to leave her to her own devices for long. She might not believe the two of them had a chance to find their way out of this crazy maze together, but until she wore another man’s ring on her finger, he planned to do everything in his power to change her mind. Nicole Renard was a woman worth fighting for, even if he had to fight the woman herself.

  “Have Mrs. Wellborn set the dining room for two tonight,” he ordered the butler, “and see that we’re not disturbed.”

  His man bowed. “As you wish.”

  “Oh, and . . . make sure she shows up, will you?” Darius glanced sideways at Wellborn, embarrassed by the request. “I have a feeling she won’t be particularly eager for my company this evening.”

  “I’ll set Flora to the task. That woman can talk a cat into a bath before the poor creature even grasps what has happened. She’ll get your young lady to the dining room. Have no fear.”

  Darius nodded, a portion of the weight lifting from his shoulders. He scrubbed a hand over his whiskered chin. Perhaps a shave was in order. Hard to properly woo a woman when he looked like a disreputable brigand.

  “Do you suppose you’d have time to press a pair of trousers for me, Wellborn?”

  The staid fellow’s face split into a grin as wide as the Mississippi. “I’ll see to it at once, sir. A shirt, as well. Your suit coat should be in adequate condition. I brushed it out after services last Sunday. Would you like your shoes polished?”

  “Whoa.” Darius held up a hand, a sudden urge to laugh welling up inside him. “Let’s not get carried away, man. We wouldn’t want the woman fainting dead away from shock, now would we? I need her conscious. Hard to have a productive conversation otherwise.”

  And that’s what scared him. He was lousy with words on a good day, and today was far from a good day. Not when the woman he loved was almost certainly packing up her trunk this very moment, determined to leave him. If a few social trappings could give aid to his cause, he’d swaddle himself gladly.

  The most critical conversation of his life awaited him in the dining room tonight. He needed every possible weapon at his disposal.

  CHAPTER 26

  So it’s true, then.”

  Startled, Nicole glanced up from where she knelt at the foot of the bed clutching a folded petticoat and spied Mrs. Wellborn standing in the doorway. Twisting her face away from the housekeeper’s view, she quickly brushed away the still-moist tear tracks from her cheeks and gave a little sniff to clear her nose before speaking.

  “Mrs. Wellborn. I-I didn’t hear you knock.” How long had the woman been standing there? And how long had Nicole been holding her petticoat while staring blankly into her trunk?

  Nicole tossed the undergarment into the open trunk and snatched up the rolls of stockings piled on the floor near her hip. “Did you need something?”

  Mrs. Wellborn strolled into the room, seated herself on the end of Nicole’s bed, and flipped the trunk lid closed. “What I need is for you to come to your senses, dearie. You can’t just leave us. You’re part of the family.”

  “I can’t stay.” She grabbed the latch and started to reopen the trunk, but Mrs. Wellborn slid right off the mattress and landed her plump derrière squarely atop the lid. The woman had the balance and aim of an acrobat.

  “Why not?” The housekeeper clasped her hands to her knees and stared Nicole straight in the eye. “Has the master done something to scare you off? I thought you’d learned to see past his brusque ways. He might be a bit rough around the edges, but his heart is as golden as they come. You know it’s true.”

  Nicole scrambled to her feet and pivoted away from Mrs. Wellborn’s scrutiny. Must everyone stick their nose into her business? She made a grand show of opening and closing bureau drawers as if double-checking to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind, but she knew the drawers were empty, and somehow staring into their vacant depths only made her heart ache worse.

  “Mr. Thornton has done nothing wrong. It’s just time for me to leave. That’s all. It can’t be helped.” She quietly clicked the last hollow drawer closed. “I enjoyed my time here very much,” she said, finally turning to face the housekeeper, “and I will miss you all dreadfully.” A tiny sob caught in her throat, and in an instant, Mrs. Wellborn was on her feet, tugging Nicole into a warm embrace.

  “Forgive an old woman her nattering.” The housekeeper’s voice trembled with tears of her own as she squeezed Nicole tight. “Here I was thinking only of my own grief without giving a care for yours.” She stepped back and stroked the curls framing Nicole’s face, just like Nicole’s own mother did whenever her daughter needed soothing. “Deep down, I knew you didn’t want to leave us, but when Arthur told me the news, all I could think about was finding a way to make you change your mind.”

  “You have no idea how badly I want to change my mind.” The words burst through the widening fissure of her heart, no longer able to be contained. “I want to stay more than you can imagine. And that wanting is tearing me apart.” Nicole lifted her chin and forced a deep breath into her lungs. “Unfortunately, I have obligations—responsibilities that can’t be ignored. My family is depending on me. I can’t let them down.”

  “Of course not,” Mrs. Wellborn clucked as she rubbed Nicole’s arms. “If you’ve given your word, there’s no question but that you must keep it.”

  The defensive starch Nicole had been using to keep herself upright crumbled, and she collapsed back into the housekeeper’s arms. “Thank you for understanding,” she said, hugging the woman close for a moment before stepping back. “I wish the men could be as accepting. It would make everything so much easier.”

  Mrs. Wellborn pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and dabbed at her own eyes. “It’s not in their nature. They don’t see this situation as a certainty that must be accepted. No, in their minds, it is a challenge thrown down like a gauntlet. Accepting equals defeat, so they won’t hear of it. Instead, they’ll do everything in their power to find a solution. Men are fixers, dear. Just one more thing we women have to . . . accept.” The housekeeper winked, and Nicole felt her mouth twitch into something that felt amazingly like a smile.

  “I suppose it’s not fair of me to admire that quality in Mr. Thornton when he’s busy solving boiler safety issues only to berate him for it when he employs the same strategies on me.”

  Mrs. Wellborn smiled and patted Nicole’s shoulder. “Love would be boring if it were simple, dearie.”

  “Oh, but I—”

  The housekeeper took hold of her arm before she could find the right words to protest. “What you need after all that packing is a nice hot meal to fill those empty spaces inside you.” Mrs. Wellborn tugged her gently toward the door. “Everything looks so much brighter with a full belly. I have a place already set for you in the dining room.”

  “No, I—!” Nicole jerked to a halt. “I mean, no, thank you. It’s sweet of you to go to all that trouble, but I’d rather spend my last night at Oakhaven with you and Jacob in the kitchen.”

  The only reason Mrs. Wellborn would try to direct her to the dining room was if Darius was there. Waiting for her.

  “Arthur took Jacob down to the pond to sail the raft the two of them made this afternoon. You should have seen them huddled over the table, tying all those sticks and twigs together with bits of twine.” The housekeeper chattered gaily, as if nothing were amiss, all while gently maneuvering Nicole
down the hall. “You would have thought Arthur was as much a boy as young Jacob. They gobbled their supper and disappeared out the back door faster than a pair of lightning bugs.”

  She shook her head, laughter bubbling forth as she nudged an elbow into Nicole’s ribs. “I haven’t seen Arthur move that fast in ages. I think I’ll just grab a couple biscuits and meet them down by the water. See what kind of fun they get up to.”

  Unable to escape the frothy yet forceful current that was Mrs. Wellborn without being rude, Nicole floated helplessly along beside the housekeeper, the dining room door drawing ever nearer. Her stomach clenched with an odd mixture of dread and anticipation. No matter how painful it would be to spend time alone with Darius, she couldn’t deny that deep down she wanted to do exactly that.

  One last meal together. What harm could it do?

  Mrs. Wellborn drew to a halt, clasped Nicole’s hand, and patted the back of it with motherly affection.

  “Let him say his piece, dearie. That’s all he asks. Then, if you still want to leave, my Arthur will drive you to town in the morning. The master has already given instructions regarding your wages, so you need not worry on that score. You won’t be leaving us penniless. Of course, we hope you won’t be leaving us at all, but be assured that we’ll support your decision, whatever it may be.”

  “Thank you.” Nicole blinked back the moisture gathering in her eyes. This wasn’t the time for tears. She’d handle this final meeting with dignity and decorum, just as her mother had taught her. No hysterics. No angry demands. Just patience and kindness. She’d been absorbed in her own disappointment long enough. Time to focus on someone else for a change.

  Darius. This entire situation was even more unfair to him than to her. At least she’d known about her promise to her father from the beginning. Darius hadn’t. He’d simply given a needy woman employment, involved her in his mission, and given her the respect she’d always craved. Whatever he planned to say, she would listen. She owed him that much. No matter how much it hurt, she’d listen to his arguments, his strategies, his pleas.