EPILOGUE
LONDON, ENGLAND
ONE MONTH LATER
Darius Thornton extended his hand to assist his wife out of the hansom cab they’d taken from the hotel to Hyde Park. His wife. He still couldn’t believe his good fortune. How a socially averse curmudgeon like him had managed to snare the elegant, sable-haired beauty stepping from the carriage was a miracle only God himself could fully explain. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d watched the same elegant beauty strap a blade to her stocking-clad thigh that morning before they’d left their suite, he might have been tempted to believe that Providence had made a mistake. But there could be no mistaking the intimate smile his sassy little pirate cocked at him as she emerged from the carriage. Nicole Renard Thornton belonged to him, and he’d thank the Lord for that blessing for as long as he lived.
As his beloved’s gaze skittered past him, her eyes widened. “Oh, Darius. It’s even grander than I imagined. Look at all that glass. It truly is a crystal palace.”
He offered her his arm and led her up the wide path that wound past lush, manicured lawns and round pools with soaring fountains. Crowds of people from all walks of life milled about, slowing their progress, but Darius didn’t mind. With Nicole’s father regaining a bit of strength now that the stress of securing his daughter’s future was behind him, they had the luxury of enjoying London at a leisurely pace, perhaps even for an entire fortnight. Plenty of time to see all the Great Exhibition had to offer.
“I understand that when Queen Victoria opened the exhibit to the public last month she declared it the greatest display of industry and manufacturing in the modern world.” Darius tugged Nicole close to his side as they navigated around a group of gawking schoolchildren.
Nicole grinned at him, her excitement nearly as evident as that of the children they passed. “I can’t wait to see what’s inside.”
“I hear there is a raja’s elephant draped in a jeweled howdah.” Darius bent his head to murmur in her ear, partly to make himself heard above the chattering children and partly to torture himself with the nearness of the delectable skin at her throat that he so loved to nuzzle. “And an upstairs gallery filled with stained glass that filters the sunlight in every color of the rainbow.”
“And I hear they have steam engines of every possible variety and use.” She arched her brow at him, not fooled at all by his mention of the more aesthetically appealing exhibits. He truly did long to dazzle her with the wonders of the World’s Fair, but she knew him too well, knew he longed to dissect and digest all he could from the mechanical advances within the Crystal Palace. “And since this is as much your wedding trip as mine,” she continued, “and since I fell in love with you fully aware of your addiction to boilers and steam mechanics, I suggest we investigate those first.”
Darius chuckled. “You’re too good to me, madam.”
“Only as good as you are to me.” She winked, and a soft laugh escaped her and warmed his blood. Yes, he would enjoy being good to this woman. For decades.
Once inside, the colorful displays demanded their attention. From a twenty-seven-foot-high pink glass fountain standing at the heart of the palace, to the steam hammer that could crush pounds of metal or gently crack an egg, to an envelope machine that could cut, fold, and gum thousands of envelopes an hour, to the largest diamond ever seen, the spectacle never ceased. After talking to nearly every steam engineer in the place, Darius steered Nicole toward the booths presented by France. It was past time to indulge her more feminine sensibilities. He dutifully smiled and nodded as she exclaimed over the rich tapestries, ornate furniture, and delicate porcelain, all while his mind processed the possible applications of the new designs for steam valves he’d seen. Or the submarine propeller for steamships. Or the—
“Darius, look at this.”
“Hmm?” He turned, prepared to smile and nod again over whatever pretty thing had caught his wife’s attention. So when she held up a metal gauge of some kind, it took him a minute to comprehend what he was seeing.
“The label declares it a New Metallic Manometer, and it’s been awarded a Council Medal. Do you think it could be used to measure steam pressure? I spotted a small steam engine at the back of the booth.” She pointed to a slit in the curtain behind the exhibit, where what appeared to be some kind of small boiler apparatus sat on a table.
Darius took the display gauge from Nicole’s hand, his fingers trembling at the significance of what he could be holding. There was nothing heroic about its features, just a simple face containing a dial and hash marks to measure pressure levels. But when he turned the model over he encountered a design he’d never seen before. A curled tube followed the path of the circular frame, its sealed end attached to a linkage mechanism that would move the pointer on the front side. Darius lifted it to eye level to inspect it more closely while running a finger along the tube’s edge. Fascinating. Not round as one would suspect, but flattened on the top and bottom.
“Would you like to see a demonstration, monsieur?”
Darius glanced up to find a dapper gentleman sporting a tailored suit and impressive chin whiskers.
“It is quite a marvel,” the man continued, his French accent thick but not indecipherable. “It accurately measures pressure for steam, air, and water. I have every expectation that it will revolutionize the steam industry. No more exploding boilers to hold back our progress, oui?”
Or to steal lives.
Darius met the man’s gaze, hope swelling so full within him that he feared it would be his chest that exploded. “I’d very much like to see a demonstration, sir. I have a great interest in boiler safety, especially when it comes to steamboats. I’ve seen too much destruction, too many lives lost due to faulty handling of machinery that engineers don’t know how to control with any consistency.”
Nicole scooted closer, as if afraid she’d be excluded from the masculine conversation. She slipped her hand through the crook of Darius’s arm. “My husband has gone so far as to conduct numerous scientific experiments to discover the causes of these explosions, working with the Franklin Institute of Pennsylvania. He has often commented on the need for a reliable mechanism to measure steam pressure.”
“Ah, you are American.” The Frenchman looked down his nose a bit as he said the word, but when he looked up at Darius again, interest and a glimmer of respect shone in his eyes. “I have heard of the Franklin Institute and have read their journal. A decent publication.” He turned to wave to his assistant, signaling the man to bring the small steam engine out from behind the curtain.
“I think you will find that my New Metallic Manometer is just what you have been seeking. I have found it to be the most accurate gauge of steam pressure ever created.” The man’s boast smacked of overconfidence, but Darius reserved judgment. If the thing worked, he’d boast on the man’s behalf to everyone who would listen.
“We are ready, Monsieur Bourdon,” his assistant said. “The fire’s been stoked and the heat is rising.”
“Ah, très bien.” Bourdon tapped the gauge mounted on top of the boiler’s water column. Darius’s gaze never left it as the man went on to explain how the device worked. “As the pressure builds, the curled tube straightens slightly, moving the lever.”
A familiar hiss developed in the boiler, signaling steam production. And just as the man predicted, the pointer on the gauge began to inch upward on the meter.
“It’s working, Darius,” Nicole whispered next to him, her quiet voice shivering with excitement. “It’s truly working!”
Darius couldn’t manage a reply. All he could do was watch the pointer continue to move as the hiss of steam grew louder. The lever had climbed nearly to the halfway point when the assistant popped the safety valve, releasing the steam.
“When the pressure decreases,” Bourdon continued, “the tube relaxes back toward its original curved position, and the lever drops.”
Darius tore his gaze away from the wonder before him long enough to nod to Bourdon
. “I must congratulate you, sir. This shows great promise, indeed. I’d be very interested in bringing a model back home with me to study further.”
“I’m afraid, monsieur, that I cannot allow such. This is a new patent, you understand, and I must protect my investment.”
“Of course,” Darius said politely, even as the muscles in his jaw tightened to the point that his teeth began to clench. America needed this device, needed it now. He might be able to replicate it if given enough time, but with his new responsibilities at Renard Shipping, time was an element in short supply. “Perhaps if I signed a document agreeing not to infringe on your patent . . . ? America needs a gauge like this desperately. Thousands of innocent lives are lost every year to riverboat explosions—explosions that could be avoided if we had an accurate way to measure steam pressure.”
Bourdon raised a brow, his mouth straightening into a line of displeasure.
Blast it all. Darius hadn’t intended to come across as threatening. He simply wished to convey the urgency of the situation.
Nicole’s fingers wrapped around his hand, gently loosening the fist he hadn’t even known he’d made. Darius glanced her way and found compassion glowing in her eyes, compassion tinged with warning. Forcing his muscles to relax, he gave her a tiny nod.
“My husband is passionate about this issue, monsieur,” she said by way of apology. “He experienced the deadly force of these explosions firsthand in New Orleans, aboard the steamship Louisiana, and longs to prevent such disasters from occurring in the future.”
Bourdon’s features immediately softened. “The Louisiana? My sympathies, monsieur. Even in France we heard of this tragedy. I’m afraid I cannot give you a model of my design to take with you, but I can tell you that another American approached me a few weeks ago when he saw my manometer. He wishes to buy the rights to my design in order to market it in your country. At the conclusion of the exhibition, we will begin negotiations. His name is Edward Ashcroft. I’d be happy to give you his direction.”
Darius managed to choke out a thank-you through the thickness in his throat. As Bourdon disappeared behind his curtain to retrieve Ashcroft’s address, Darius turned to the woman at his side.
“This is the answer, Nicole. I feel it in my bones. The Lord has answered our prayers.”
Her smile washed over him with such joy, it was all he could do not to sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He needed to celebrate. To share this moment with her in a way that this public hall would not permit.
“Would you mind terribly if we viewed the rest of the exhibits tomorrow?” he asked, his voice deepening to a husky timbre. “I don’t think I could fully appreciate them in my current state of mind.” He let his gaze rove over her in a way that communicated exactly what state of mind he was in. The blush that rose to her cheeks only added to the triumph surging through his veins. But she didn’t look away. No, his little pirate met his gaze squarely.
“I find that suggestion quite agreeable, husband.”
The moment Darius had Mr. Ashcroft’s direction tucked safely in his pocket, he cut a path through the crowds swarming the grounds of the Crystal Palace with the efficiency of a jungle explorer on expedition. Only, the treasure he hunted was already on his arm. A priceless treasure whose value was far above rubies, and one he would hold tight to forever.
NOTE TO READER
Darius’s gut proved correct. The Bourdon tube pressure gauge, invented by Eugene Bourdon in 1849 and debuted at the Great Exhibition in London in 1851 as the New Metallic Manometer, went on to revolutionize the steam industry. In fact, this design proved so efficient, it is still in use today. Edward Ashcroft successfully marketed the gauge in the United States, and with a viable way to measure boiler pressure, Congress was convinced to pass additional safety legislation. The Steamboat Act of 1852 not only called for inspections of vessels, boilers, and engines but mandated licensing of riverboat pilots. Higher standards for boiler construction could be regulated and enforced with penalties imposed by the federal government. Licenses could be revoked if a vessel or pilot failed to meet the code. Life preservers and lifeboats also became required equipment to have on board.
The reformation of the steam industry did not occur overnight, but progress steadily pushed the nation toward safer procedures, equipment, and personnel. As a result, fewer explosions stole innocent lives. Out of the 1852 Act, seeds were sown for the Steamboat Inspection Service, an entity solidified as an official government agency in 1871. This was the first regulatory agency of its kind and broke constitutional ground in giving our government the right to interfere with personal industry when public safety was at risk. It is because of this radical steamboat legislation that we are protected today by other agencies such as the Food and Drug Administration and the Federal Aviation Administration.
Darius and Nicole’s journey may have been fictional, but the times and events surrounding it changed history.
Two-time RITA finalist and winner of the coveted HOLT Medallion and ACFW Carol Award, CBA bestselling author Karen Witemeyer writes historical romance because she believes the world needs more happily-ever-afters. She is an avid cross-stitcher and shower singer, and she bakes a mean apple cobbler. Karen makes her home in Abilene, Texas, with her husband and three children. Learn more about Karen and her books at www.karenwitemeyer.com.
Books by Karen Witemeyer
* * *
A Tailor-Made Bride
Head in the Clouds
To Win Her Heart
Short-Straw Bride
Stealing the Preacher
Full Steam Ahead
A Match Made in Texas—A Novella Collection
Resources: bethanyhouse.com/AnOpenBook
Website: www.bethanyhouse.com
Facebook: Bethany House
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Note to Reader
About the Author
Books by Karen Witemeyer
Back Ads
Back Cover
Full Steam Ahead Page 29