They did so, having to stop constantly to greet friends of James’s, for by now it was the fashionable hour to see and be seen. Still he managed to ask Miss Galsworth, “Why, by the by, do you wish to read that book?”
“Why, by the by, do you?” she countered.
He sputtered. “It is not at all the same thing,” he protested. Then the obvious answer occurred to him, “Is it for a brother or perhaps your father that you were looking for the book? In that event, I could procure a copy for you directly from the publisher.”
She looked at him with what James could only call contempt in her eyes. He was greatly taken aback. To be sure, there were times when he played his role as a rake a trifle too thoroughly and a young lady, or more likely her mama, had looked at him that way. But he had never been regarded with contempt over the question of a book!
In a cool, distant, polite voice Miss Galsworth said, “On second thought perhaps I should write to the publisher myself to procure a copy. You need not trouble yourself further on the matter.”
It wasn’t sensible. He ought to simply agree and leave it at that. He and Miss Galsworth, after all, had nothing in common. But James found himself not being the slightest bit sensible.
Instead he looked at her and, with a grim edge to his voice, said, “Just what the devil is going on here, Miss Galsworth? If you were a man, I should believe that you and I shared the same interest in things mechanical. But since that patently cannot be the case, why the devil should you rip up at me over a book?”
James could see the effort she made to hold on to her temper. He could see the same battle waged in her eyes over what would be sensible. And he could see the moment she, just like he, lost.
“And why can that patently not be the case?” Miss Galsworth demanded hotly. “Just why can I not be interested in things mechanical? Because I am a woman?”
“Of course,” James replied, surprised it even needed to be said.
Now she really lost her temper. Fascinated, James watched as Miss Galsworth looked around the park and then pointed to a nearby carriage. “There. That one is about to lose a wheel. And that one over there is not properly sprung. And—”
Before she could point to any more carriages and draw any further attention to the pair of them, James hastily said, “Yes, yes, that is quite enough. I believe you. You have an eye for carriages. But what has that to do with mechanical matters?”
“I also fix pumps. And I have initiated some changes in the way the laundry room is managed at my parents’ estate, and I have a notion or two for the use of steam,” she said, her voice perfectly even.
Behind him, James could hear the groom’s instinctive recoil at such an unmaidenly confession. He ought, he supposed, to be shocked as well. And indeed he was taken by surprise. But Miss Galsworth’s confession, or rather her listing of what she clearly considered her virtues, happened to tickle his fancy as well.
“Steam?” James murmured lightly. “In that event, perhaps we do have something in common, Miss Galsworth, after all,” he said.
Now it was her turn to look at him with astonishment. And disbelief. “You? London’s most indolent rake and wastrel? Nonsense! I will allow you may have read a book or two but that is scarcely the same as actually doing something with your knowledge.”
That did it. All prudence, all thought of prudence, indeed all thought of any kind of propriety went straight out the window at her words. With a grim look in his eyes, James said, “Is that so, Miss Galsworth? Very well, I have something I wish to show you!”
And then, without any regard to common sense whatsoever, James proceeded to drive out of the park. Almost immediately he pulled the carriage to a halt, tossed a coin to his groom, and said, “Go home. I shan’t be needing you any longer this afternoon.”
The poor fellow tried to protest. To no avail. James was adamant. The groom looked to Miss Galsworth but she was not giving an inch, either.
“You’d best do as he says,” she told the groom kindly.
Finally, shaking his head in strong disapproval, the fellow went. The moment he was walking away, James started the carriage up again and drove to a part of London that few members of the ton ever cared to visit. He drove to a large structure that was part of a factory and there handed the reins over to a workman standing idle.
Without a word, James handed Miss Galsworth down. She did not protest, did not threaten to faint or indulge in a fit of the vapors, did not even ask any questions. Instead she matched him, stride for stride, as he led the way to his workroom.
“No one knows about this,” he said, unlocking the door. “At least no one in the ton.”
Inside he pulled back the canvas that covered his pride, his joy, his obsession. He would have told her what it was, but there was no need.
She gave a gasp of pleasure and took a step forward. “An engine!” she said, in a tone of awe, running her gloved hand delicately over the metal.
James shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to look modest. He failed signally. In a gruff voice he said, “Runs on steam. I think it could power a carriage.”
She looked at him, awe still in her eyes as she said, “Oh, yes, I should think so. Please, Mr. Langford, tell me everything about it!”
And he did. So apt a pupil was Miss Galsworth, that James soon found himself engaged in a discussion of the merits of various approaches to some of the problems he had yet to work out.
So apt a pupil was she that they both lost track of time. Her bonnet was soon abandoned on a chair, along with her gloves and spencer and his coat, gloves, and hat. She had long since retrieved her spectacles from her reticule and placed them securely on her face. An apron covered the front of her gown as another covered his shirt and trousers. Together they bent over the engine, examining every minute detail.
They talked about his other projects as well and James found that Miss Galsworth did not despise him for his inventions that went to factories.
“How did you come to take on such projects?” she asked with interest, not contempt in her eyes.
He wasn’t going to answer her. He had never spoken of his reasons to anyone. Perhaps that was why he was so astonished to hear himself reply.
“I am not quite sure,” he said. “I suppose it was because of something I read in the papers. About how workers were being injured on a certain machine. And I thought that perhaps I could design something safer. Fortunately for me and for my pockets, mill owners were happy to buy it since not only was it safer but it would allow the workers to do their jobs better than before.”
She looked at him then, really looked at him, and said, her voice full of emotion, “There are not many men who would have cared.”
He was a fool to tell her more, but James could not help himself.
“My father would have cared,” he said, his voice even more full of emotion than hers. “He was accounted a great reformer. If I have one regret, it is that I have not followed in his footsteps. I have not the courage. He was ostracized, you know, for his views. And we could not bear it, my brothers and I, as children. We did not understand. Even now I do not entirely understand it. I only know that there are times I think that if he could see the lot of us, he would only feel disappointment.”
Her answer, when it came, startled James.
“Nonsense! Whatever good your father did, I’ll wager you’ve done even more to help people by producing your inventions. And if you do not act openly, what is that to the point? You do a great deal more good than if you simply went about making useless speeches!”
It was a wonderment to James that Miss Galsworth patently meant every word she said. Nor did he doubt her sincerity when she added, “Do you have sketches of any of your inventions? For the mills, I mean? I should greatly like to see them. I have never before, you see,” she said shyly, “met anyone who understood the things I like.”
James found himself grinning. Miss Galsworth was the most unconventional young woman he had ever met and he found him
self grateful for the hand of providence that had led to their unlikely acquaintance.
“I have a sheaf of sketches over here,” he said, moving eagerly to the desk where he kept such things.
Together they bent over his drawings and Miss Galsworth seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of intelligent questions to ask him. Questions that James was delighted to try to answer, even when the young woman was able to point out little details he might have tried to improve his inventions even further.
Indeed, so engrossed were they that neither noticed when supper time came and went. Nor did either notice, beyond the need to light more candles, when it became dark outside. Neither noticed the hours pass until daylight began to peek in through the windows and the last of the candles began to burn out.
It was only then, when it was much too late, that they suddenly looked at one another, aghast, and said as one, “Oh Lord! Now we’re in the suds!”
Chapter 5
Miss Galsworth was, if anything, the calmer of the two. “Perhaps, if we hurry,” she said, pulling off her apron and reaching for a cloth with which to wipe her hands, “you can deliver me home and I can sneak in the back way without anyone being the wiser. I shall pretend I came home yesterday afternoon and went straight up to the attic and fell asleep there. I have done so before. Fallen asleep in the attic, I mean,” she added hastily.
James snorted. “Do you really think they will believe such a Banbury tale?” he asked doubtfully.
“Have you any better notion?” she countered.
“No,” he admitted slowly.
“Then don’t you think it at least worth a try?”
James sighed, removed his own apron, and washed his hands in the nearby basin. “We must do something,” he agreed. “I shudder to think what will happen if our families ever discover we were out all night together!”
Miss Galsworth did shudder. “It must not come to that,” she said firmly. “And it shan’t. Not if we hurry.”
James was the first to realize just how mistaken she was. It occurred to him, as he guided his horses down the already crowded streets, that he could think of no way of letting Miss Galsworth down at her house without the pair of them being seen by someone’s servants on the street. Still, he hoped that inspiration would come to him the closer they got.
Instead, as he turned onto the square he saw a carriage already standing in front of the Galsworths’ town house. And, he realized with his own shudder, that it was his brother, Lord Darton, standing beside it.
It was too much to hope that George would not recognize James’s turnout. Nor was there any way to retreat. Perhaps he could brazen it out and drive right past?
No, he didn’t think so.
“James!” Lord Darton’s voice rang out far too loudly in the quiet early morning air.
With a sigh of resignation, James drew his carriage to a halt behind Darton’s.
“Who is he?” Miss Galsworth demanded with a hiss.
“My eldest brother, Lord Darton.”
“What is he doing here?” she asked, patently bewildered.
“I don’t know but it seems we are definitely in trouble now,” James said, jumping down to greet his brother.
There was a look of thunder on George’s face and it only darkened when he spied Miss Galsworth sitting in James’s carriage. In a sharp but soft voice meant to reach only his brother’s ears, Darton said, “I shall speak to the both of you, inside. We must do our best to keep the matter as quiet as possible.”
Darton held a hasty whispered conversation with his groom and then the man, with a bit of maneuvering of the carriages, managed to arrange things so that he could hold the reins for both sets of horses.
As soon as that matter was settled, Lord Darton, James, and Miss Galsworth hastened up the steps.
“What the devil are you doing here? And at such an hour of the morning?” James demanded of his brother in a harsh whisper.
Lord Darton glared at his brother. “When you did not return yesterday with Miss Galsworth, her family, knowing me to be the head of our family, sent for me. I, naturally, reassured them that you must simply have been delayed but to send for me again this morning if you had not yet returned. It would seem they did not go to sleep at all, or rose remarkably early if they did, for the summons came this hour past. I shall not soon forgive you, James, for placing me in such an untenable position!”
There was no time to say more for they were already being shown into the Galsworth house and then led to the drawing room. They all three looked, James thought rather gloomily, like a party of prisoners on their way to execution. Which, considering the circumstances, perhaps they were.
Mrs. Galsworth and a man James presumed to be Mr. Galsworth were in the drawing room. The man was pacing while Mrs. Galsworth wrung her hands in dismay. At the sight of James and George and her daughter, the older woman gave a tiny cry of relief.
“What have you done to our Juliet?” the older man demanded in outrage.
“Juliet?” James echoed bewildered.
The girl beside him blushed. The older man and woman gaped. Even George looked at him as if he must have gone wanting in wits.
James looked at Miss Galsworth and said again, “Juliet?”
She nodded. The older couple sputtered. George frowned and asked in disbelief, “You spent the night with the girl and didn’t even learn her name?”
Now it was James who blushed a fiery red. “We were, er, doing other things.”
The gasps of outrage informed James that his reply had perhaps been infelicitous.
“That is to say, we were talking about other things!” he corrected himself with great haste.
But it was too late.
“He must marry her. He must!” Mrs. Galsworth said, weeping into a handkerchief.
“What the devil do you intend to do to make this right?” Mr. Galsworth demanded.
“Have you lost your wits entirely?” George asked, not troubling to hide his dismay.
James didn’t even try to untangle the questions. He merely looked at Miss Galsworth, smiled wryly and half-apologetically to her, and then said, with a calm he was very far from feeling, “Miss Galsworth and I shall be married, of course. As soon as possible.”
Abruptly silence descended over the room as if none of the occupants could credit that he had capitulated so swiftly. James looked at Miss Galsworth. Her eyes were wide and even she was staring at him in disbelief.
George mopped his brow and said, “I cannot say that I like it, but dash it all, under the circumstances I see no other alternative.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Mr. Galsworth said, immediately expanding on this theme. “A notice must be sent to the papers at once.”
“What I should like to know,” Mrs. Galsworth broke in to say, in a firm but bewildered voice, “is what the two of you were doing all night?”
Again silence descended on the room as everyone gaped in disbelief at the woman. Her husband finally stammered, “What an absurd question! As if it matters. They were away, together, over night and must be married. And I don’t care how many hearts you have broken,” he told James sternly, “you will not break my daughter’s.”
“But was he seducing her?” Mrs. Galsworth asked, as if she could not quite credit such a thing.
James was a gentleman. Under ordinary circumstances a gentleman would never admit to having ruined a young lady. He would protect her by insisting they had just gotten lost, had a carriage wheel come off, or some other plausible story. But none of those would work in London.
“We were working on—” Miss Galsworth started to say.
Even as James realized she was about to tell the truth, he also realized that if she did so, it could only diminish her in the eyes of her family. Far better to let them think he had been carried away by passion. For it was patent that they all, George included, believed Miss Galsworth could not inspire such a thing.
So before she could finish her sentence, James pulled her i
nto his arms, said loudly, “Yes, I was,” and then kissed her quite, quite thoroughly.
There was only one little problem with this plan, aside from the fact that at first Miss Galsworth was struggling in his arms. James had very little practice kissing. Somehow, for all his reputation as a shameless rake, he had never really had a great deal of time for pursuing the ladies. How could he when machinery was his true passion? Not that he disliked the ladies, but even when he was presumed to be spending his time in brothels and such, James had actually been slipping out the back door and off to his factory workshop.
So now he had to concentrate and try to think of just how long he should hold the kiss, and where, precisely, he should place his hands, and just how fervent a kiss it should appear to be. But at least, he thought with some satisfaction, the trouble would be worth it.
He and Miss Galsworth had made a mistake, not taking note of the time. And now they would have to pay for it by getting married. Which would not, he thought, perhaps be such a horrible fate. It was true that he had not been dangling for a wife, but if he must marry, then Miss Galsworth at least possessed far more sense than any other young lady he had ever met. He might as well, for her sake, let everyone think he felt a grand passion for her. It would make things far more pleasant for the both of them.
By the time he let her go, James was more than halfway to regarding himself in the light of a protective, kindly, and even generous benefactor to poor Miss Galsworth. She, however, didn’t seem to see things in quite the same way.
———
Juliet stared at Mr. Langford. His effrontery was beyond belief! Marry her? Without even asking her opinion of the notion?
To be sure, the look on Mama and Papa’s faces and that of Lord Darton suggested they all thought he had no choice. But surely he couldn’t believe such a thing? And yet, she had to admit she saw no other way out, either.
But why didn’t he at least try to explain that they had merely been working on his invention? Well, if he would not, then she would tell them!
Juliet opened her mouth and started to speak and that was when he astonished her even further. He ruthlessly pulled her into his arms and began to kiss her!
The Wily Wastrel Page 4