by Ava Morgan
As did he, only Jacob was certain that her departure was much more scientifically-related. He removed the gauntlet. He did a fine job of making her uncomfortable. But Abigail was too gracious to add to the already awkward situation by telling him so.
“I’ll begin sketching the armor plate.” She went away from him, towards the worktable. The sound of her rummaging for a pencil echoed the din in his mind as he hastened to return himself to reality.
He must uphold professional decorum. He had to stop thinking about that silly kiss between them that occurred two months ago. Just like the nitrous oxide Abigail had accidentally breathed in that made her forget herself that day, so had she forgotten her actions as soon as the smoke dissipated. It was high time he did the same.
Or else he’d miss his deadline and lose the chance to earn funding to help his patients. He thought about it as he rolled his sleeve down. He still had other people to care for. He hoped he could return to feeling that work was enough, but with Abigail so near, that notion became increasingly difficult to recapture.
Chapter 13
March, 1838
After being in the missions, there were very few things in life Abigail prided herself on besides her faith and work ethic. Being attracted to her intelligent, brave, and persevering employer certainly wasn’t one of them.
In fact, it was most improper, she thought, as she watched Jacob test the newly improved gauntlet gun on the grounds in the back of his house. A patient cancelled an appointment, and the unseasonably warm overcast March day allowed them to take the hour to work on the COIC-commissioned project.
When did it start?, she wondered, while Jacob aimed at a target he set up beneath a wizened oak. Was it a month before, when, in her efforts to explain how breastplates were precursors to waistcoats, she kept her hand steadily affixed to his chest?
She groaned at the embarrassing memory of such liberty she took upon his person.
Jacob fired the gun at the target.
Or was it a little before then, when he drove off that street gang and got her to safety? They hadn’t run into them since.
Maybe it was when he started being candid with his patients and telling them how he lost his leg in India. The courage it took for him to reveal that only endeared him to her even more.
Or did her attraction form in the very beginning, when he first entered the apothecary, and his avant-garde appearance and piercing blue eyes caught her attention?
He turned those eyes to her after shooting the target a second time. The sun was not bright enough for him to need his lenses outside today. She liked that. “What do you think?”
Of his eyes? How ice blue they were? “Oh, that I cannot say,” she murmured.
“Sorry?”
Heavens, but her mind did nothing but wander these days. He was asking her about the gauntlet gun’s trajectory, not her opinion of his features. She strolled up to the target and found the bullet lodged in the middle of the board. “Yes, a very good shot.”
He strode up beside her. His gait was noticeably smoother today. “The Aspasian metals practically interpret my next move. I barely have to press the switch on the cuff to release the gun, and it has improved the pin trigger response. Of course, it could be from the extra wiring in the metal vest.” He lifted the lapel of his coat and inspected it.
Amazing what he could make from just a few of her sketches. In a short time, she’d seen it go from paper to forged metal. Now the vest rested smartly beneath his jacket like an armored waistcoat.
Abigail brought her eyes to the gauntlet on his arm. “I hope the theory works just as well on prosthetic devices as it does weapons. Should we start work on a model?”
“I already have, actually. I finished it late last night.”
“Oh.” Abigail looked towards the house. “Did you use one from the display cabinet?”
Jacob gave her one of his little smiles that indicated when he had a new discovery and could not contain himself any longer. “I decided to go with my own. I used the same process, only I connected a wire beneath the limb’s pressure plates.”
Abigail remembered how pulse points traveled to the knee area as well. “And did you think it was an improvement?”
“Yes, I don’t have to depress fully on the plates anymore, which means less pain. But, I should do more tests with it.” He started to disassemble the target’s stand.
Abigail folded the board. “Your last patient arrives at two this afternoon. We can come back out to the yard, then.”
“I was thinking of something more challenging.”
She noted that the yard spanned a good half-acre. “What else did you have in mind?”
He looked towards central London. “It’s a warm day, Abigail. Would you like to go for a stroll in the park?”
#
Regent’s Park was rife with more than a few of the London gentry’s well-to-do out to take advantage of the pleasant afternoon. The sun decided to emerge from the clouds after all.
Abigail observed the pedestrians as they took to the path that wound about the gardens. Courting couples, fashionable ladies, and gentlemen dandies walked ahead of her and Jacob. A few people walking in the opposite direction offered stares at the two of them. Abigail supposed she and Jacob did make an eccentric pair, he with his long hair and tinted lenses, she with her somber brown work dress. But she enjoyed being with him, putting her hand on his arm as they walked.
“I don’t think I’ve been out to Regent’s Park in years,” Jacob said. His head turned left and right as though he were taking it all in for the first time. Abigail had never seen him in such a lively mood. She noticed that he relied far less on his walking stick as well.
“I’ve only been once or twice in the past year,” she supplied. “But I used to walk here all the time with my niece and nephew.”
“I do recall you mentioning that you had a sister. Is she in London?”
“My older sister lives in the Paddington district with her husband and two children.” Her stomach constricted as she thought of her strained rapport with Catherine.
They passed a group of ladies who stopped along at a pavilion. The ladies’ backs were towards them, but Abigail could have sworn that she had seen Catherine’s russet curls.
“You never said why you and your sister were estranged.”
Her gaze flew up. “How did you know?”
“Both of your parents are gone. Your sister is your closest surviving relative. She lives in London with her husband and children, and yet you reside in a boarding house.”
She turned her eyes towards the bare trees. “I suppose it does appear obvious. My sister and I had a disagreement last year because I refused to be matched with a suitor of her choosing. She said that she and her husband could not afford to maintain a spinster in their household.”
“That seems to be a unique way of getting someone to marry. But, I see that it proved unsuccessful.”
She laughed at his irreverence. “My sister did what she felt was best, but she’s not to be completely blamed. I shouldn’t have imposed upon her two years before when I came home from the missions. I overstayed my welcome.” She diverted her conversation. “But enough about that. I see a lady selling flowers. Do you think Maria would like one?”
“Why didn’t you marry?”
Abigail was struck by the bluntness of Jacob’s question, but she answered him, anyway. “As you noted before, I can be quite unconventional. Even though my work overseas is through, I still wish to be of service to others. I can’t be content to sit still inside a house. That was what the gentleman wanted of me. What most men tend to require, actually.”
“Not all men.”
“Oh, and I tend to make pencil drawings. Most odd for a lady.”
Jacob’s mouth tilted in a contained smile. “I hadn’t noticed.”
She returned his smile before shyness made her look away. “We’ve been walking for some time now. Perhaps we should rest.”
“If you
’re worried about me walking a long distance, I’ve never felt better.”
“That’s good, but my feet are starting to feel fatigued.”
“There’s a bench along the evergreens to your left.” He escorted her off the promenade path and down the smaller path away from the pedestrians.
She passed under the tree and sat on the bench. “That’s better.”
Jacob stood close to her and removed his spectacles in the shade. Abigail took notice of his stance and the angle of his face, even though she couldn’t understand why.
He saw her stare. “Yes?”
“I believe I’ve looked up at you from a similar angle as this before.”
“You probably have. I am taller than you.”
She tossed off the glib remark. “That’s not it. We were someplace I can’t remember, but I recall either sitting on or leaning against a piece of furniture.” A murky image crept into her mind. She saw bookshelves, papers strewn about the room. “We were in an office. Yours, at the college.” More images came. “You stood before me. Your face was close to mine. One moment you had your spectacles on, the next they were off.”
“You shouldn’t worry over a random memory,” he said, coolly, pocketing the spectacles as the sun disappeared behind clouds overhead.
“That look. You gave it to me before. You were agitated.”
“Abigail, really.”
But she persisted. “What did I say to make you uncomfortable?”
He sighed. “It wasn’t what you said. Not entirely.”
“Please don’t be cryptic.” She left the bench to come to him. “Something happened in that office, didn’t it?”
He remained silent.
Abigail’s pulse jumped. What was he withholding? “I’m right, then. Something did happen.”
“It doesn’t need mentioning.”
“Jacob, tell me.”
Strands of hair moved about his shoulders as he turned to look directly at her.
Abigail reached out, but let her fingers hover in the air. “Why do I feel as though I’ve touched your hair before?” The question was impertinent, but she knew she must risk asking it to get to the truth.
“Because you have,” he answered. “You wanted to know why it bore traces of silver.”
She couldn’t remember asking that question, but her fingers did remember the feel of his skin under them. “And did I touch your face, too?”
“You wanted to know about the scar. I told you, after you pulled my spectacles off.”
“What came over me to do that?”
“A cloud of nitrous oxide. The effects were prolonged in your system. It happens to some individuals.”
“I was giddy?”
“You were very elated. I asked you to sit down to calm yourself, but you—I would spare you the details.”
“No.”
“As you wish.” He paused. Not for dramatic effect, she thought, but what looked to be in an effort to fortify himself for a revelation. “You kissed me.”
A current of surprise jolted through her. “I—”
“You caught me off guard at first, but I kissed you back.”
She let her back fall against the evergreen’s trunk. “Why am I just now hearing about this? Were you also under a cloud of nitrous oxide?”
“It wore off after I got you out of the auditorium. I didn’t mention the kiss to you later because I didn’t think it was appropriate. You weren’t in your right frame of mind when it happened.”
“Yet you were in yours, and you returned the kiss.”
“I shouldn’t have,” he admitted. “But I didn’t want to turn away. After a few moments, though, I knew I had to.”
Abigail vaguely recalled him doing so. “Yes, I do remember you suddenly drawing back.” She couldn’t help but glance at his mouth and think back to the time after she left the office. No wonder her lips tingled as though they had been kissed. They had been, and thoroughly.
The sensations of it came back in her mind and sent pulsing waves along her body.
“You see why I wanted to say nothing.” Jacob alternated between watching her and fiddling with the handle of his walking stick before letting it rest against the tree. “You needn’t suffer by revisiting my appalling actions.”
“I cannot imagine being appalled by you kissing me. Then, or at this moment.” Abigail was so nervous by her admission that her teeth began to chatter. She bit down her lips and averted her eyes from him, but when she swerved back, she found his countenance locked upon hers. His eyes were intense, his jaw set. She spoke again, despite a knot that formed in her vocal chords. “I-I would hope that you weren’t too offended by me.” She looked down.
He raised her chin with his finger. “What I felt was nothing close to offense.”
She tried to breathe deep, but air remained trapped in her ribcage. Her chest felt constricted, rising up and down. “I would do it again if I could.”
“Permit me.” He lowered his lips to hers.
His kiss awakened her body. This was what she felt before, what her senses remembered even as her mind’s memory had failed to recall where or when.
He covered her mouth with his, not forcefully, but with a soft, slow coaxing that made her lift her neck higher and arch her back away from the tree. She felt the warmth of his hand come to her waist, his gloved fingers as they came through the tiny space between the small of her back and the tree and settled upon her.
He gently drew her to him. Abigail’s hands went to his straight shoulders, felt them gradually relax under her touch. She returned his kiss, letting the realness of it envelop her as she delicately pressed her lips to his top lip, then his bottom. The warmth of his breath tickled her skin. She smiled against his mouth. He gave her another tender kiss, long and sweet.
The sound of heeled shoes clicking on the brick-lain path jolted Abigail from her pleasant interlude. Someone gasped very loudly.
“Abigail!” Her sister’s voice rang across the clearing.
Chapter 14
Abigail and Jacob’s embrace shattered as Catherine continued her exclamation. “Abigail! Is that you?”
Abigail was right when she saw a woman with russet curls before. It was Catherine in the park. And now Abigail was in a fix. “My sister is here,” she whispered to Jacob. Smoothing her appearance, she went around the tree.
“Catherine. Good afternoon.”
Catherine’s miniature hat bobbed on her head as she swung her gaze upon Abigail. “I thought I saw you and a gentleman leaving the promenade to come down this way.”
Jacob came around the other side of the tree. Catherine’s jaw slackened and tightened again in instant succession. Abigail knew she recognized him based upon Hammond’s description.
“Jacob—Dr. Valerian, I mean.” Abigail wanted to sink into the base of the tree. “May I introduce you to my sister, Mrs. Catherine Evancourt.”
Jacob tipped his hat. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, madame.”
Catherine only gave a slight nod.Abigail folded her hands in front of her. “I didn’t expect to see you in the park today, Catherine.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. My neighbor and her daughter invited me to come along for a walk.” She turned her head towards two other fashionably dressed ladies who remained just off the side of the promenade. Their velvet and lace-flounced hats touched as they conspired with each other, no doubt concerning the salacious scene set before them.
Catherine returned to glaring at Abigail. “It seems none of us could pass up the opportunity to frolic in this unusually balmy weather.” She set the glare upon Jacob. “Wouldn’t you agree, Doctor?”
Jacob remained laconic as he answered, “Indeed, madame. Miss Benton and I were enjoying the pleasant air, but it seems to have taken a frigid turn. We will be leaving for a more hospitable atmosphere.”
Catherine’s eyes widened. Abigail was impressed by Jacob’s polite, but sharp deflection of her sister’s double entendre.
And C
atherine was not used to being deflected. She tugged at a lace sleeve peeking out from her velveteen coat. “Dr. Valerian, would you mind terribly if I had a word with my sister?”
Abigail nodded when he looked at her.
“Not at all, Mrs. Evancourt, but I’m afraid it will have to be brief. Miss Benton must be getting back home.”
Catherine’s gaze froze over. “I shall be very clear and concise with my sister.”
“Very well.” Jacob took Abigail’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I will be at the bench near that statue on the north end of the park. Good afternoon, Mrs. Evancourt.” He tipped his hat again to Catherine and strode off.
Abigail watched him walk away. She had to admit that he did cut a dashing figure in his military-style coat.
“If my sister is done with her ogling, perhaps she will be able to hear me.”
“I hear you fine now, Catherine.”
Her sister was positively put out. Her cheeks and forehead flashed red, her mouth completely downturned in a frown that stood in comical juxtaposition to her whimsical puffed coat sleeves. “You forget yourself, Abigail. Our mother taught us better than to prostrate ourselves like platters of sweetmeats for strange men to lap over.”
How dare she speak so vulgarly? Abigail met her sister’s accusing eyes with both hands on her hips and bridled anger in her tone. “She also taught us not to fight. But if we were not in public, I think I would battle the temptation to strike you for that horrendous insult. I am no slattern, and Dr. Valerian is no predator.”
“Then what has made you become so fiery? Kissing in public! What more would have happened if I didn’t see you earlier and decide to come walking down the path?”
“He and I would have kissed and continued on our walk. I’m tired of you exaggerating.”
Catherine’s reticule flounced in the air when she jerked her hands up. “I don’t know what to make of you anymore. You refused to be courted by that esquire friend of Hammond’s. I thought you would come to your senses if I made you live on your own as a true spinster, but it only made you more independent and headstrong.”