It was definitely a lecture for a professional practitioner, including terms and calculations with which, despite Crispin’s investigations into railway building, he was not entirely familiar. But when he stole a glance at Miss Cranmore, she was gazing raptly at the speaker, occasionally nodding at something he said, evidently comprehending every word.
Crispin’s already elevated opinion of her intellectual gifts rose even higher.
After a while, the ever-present worry of discovery abating as the lecture continued, Crispin relaxed enough to be able to focus on the speech himself. Though he hadn’t sufficient training to appreciate all the mathematical details involved in the construction of arches and spans, he found them as fascinating at Miss Cranmore. Who, when he once again glanced her way, looked as if she were trying to memorise the lecturer’s words so she might rush home and transfer his comments to notes on paper.
At length, Stephenson concluded his talk to enthusiastic applause. When the committee chairman stood and announced their speaker would entertain questions from the audience, Crispin leaned over to murmur, ‘We would be wise to take our leave now, before everyone files out.’
Miss Cranmore gave a little sigh, but nodded. ‘I’d love to stay until the last possible minute, but you’re correct. It would be better to get away while our luck still holds.’
Several other members had also stood and begun moving around, so they attracted no notice as they walked around the back edge of the room and out the entry door. In the deserted vestibule, they collected their hats and canes from the attendant.
Crispin was about to walk out when Miss Cranmore halted, requiring him to pause beside her. ‘It’s the Menai Bridge,’ she said, pointing at a framed print on the wall. ‘Papa told me about it. Quite a feat of engineering!’
‘Looks impressive,’ he agreed.
‘Thomas Telford designed it to link the island of Anglesey to the mainland. The island’s principal source of income was the sale of cattle, and before the bridge, with the current so swift ferry crossing was difficult, they often tried to have the poor beasts swim across the strait—losing many of their valuable animals. So the bridge was a boon not just to the cattlemen, but to their herds. It was one of the first bridges to incorporate both stone supports and iron suspension elements.’ She sighed. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
She spoke of the bridge with the awed admiration other women might express when viewing a beautiful gown or a necklace of sparkling gems. How truly singular she was!
Approaching voices spurring him from his contemplation of her, he said, ‘We’d better keep going. The members are starting to emerge, so we need to make our escape.’
Nodding, she quickly walked out beside him, then slowed her pace as they strolled to the nearby hostelry where he retrieved his phaeton. Flipping his tiger another coin and then taking the reins, Crispin said, ‘You can have the rest of the day to yourself, Tim. Take a hackney back when you’re ready. I’ll drive the team home.’
‘Don’t you need me to walk the team for you when you stop...somewhere?’ the boy asked with a glance at Miss Cranmore.
‘No. I’ll be bringing them straight back to the stables after I drop my, um, cousin off at his lodgings.’
The boy grinned. After tipping his hat to them, he said, ‘Good day to you then, my lord—and to you, miss.’
While Miss Cranmore’s eyes widened in shock, Crispin groaned as the lad strolled off, whistling. ‘Tim is a former street rat who doesn’t miss much,’ he told her, not altogether surprised the tiger’s sharp eyes had penetrated her disguise. ‘Fortunately, he’s in my employ, so he won’t say anything. Even so, I didn’t want him to make note of the building to which I bring you back.’
Miss Cranmore gave a dismissive wave, apparently already recovered from that momentary worry. ‘I’m sure he will cause no trouble. In any event, the risk was all worth it. Wasn’t Stephenson’s lecture glorious? I could have listened to him for ever! I only wish he’d brought a slate so he could have worked out for us some of the problems of slope and turn radius he was describing.’
‘I actually understood more of it than I’d expected. I suppose you comprehended everything?’
She shook her head excitedly, confirming his appraisal of her abilities. ‘Oh, yes. How I wish I could attend all the Institution’s lectures! But I must not be greedy. I’m already for ever in your debt for allowing me this one glorious, marvellous afternoon of freedom. In fact,’ she added, turning to him, ‘you needn’t drive me home. I should like to walk. Maybe I’ll even stop at a tavern and order some ale. Because I can! It’s such a delight to stroll about in trousers. I never realised just how cumbersome and confining it is, being restricted by yards of skirts and petticoats. To say nothing of the even greater restrictions on where a female can go and what she can do. I feel so...free!’
Laughing, she wiggled her legs, then leapt in the air and spun in a circle. ‘I must figure out a way to wear trousers more often.’
‘Heaven forbid,’ he objected with a shudder, trying to keep his gaze focused on her face and not on those beguiling legs. He was certainly not going to tell her that his irrepressible sister often wore breeches when riding at Montwell Glen.
‘I’ll be sending up prayers of thanks for the rest of my days that we got though that episode unscathed. And if females started wearing trousers, the effect would be disastrous. Men all over London would be walking into lampposts, too distracted to pay attention to where they were going while they stared at all those nether limbs.’
She stopped short and looked over at him. ‘Have you been staring at my nether limbs?’
‘Blatantly. I was so overcome, I hardly heard a word of the lecture.’
That was skirting dangerously close to the truth, but given his teasing tone, she didn’t believe him—thankfully. ‘Liar. How can I ever thank you enough for providing what will remain one of the highlights of my life! I’m even prepared to admit I probably couldn’t have carried it off—at least, not as successfully—without your help. Now, I intend to find that tavern and enjoy an ale, so with my final thanks, I’ll set off.’
She truly meant to stroll off on her own. As she passed him, he caught her shoulder with his free hand. ‘Here now, you can’t go wandering around by yourself! Tim’s not the only one with a critical eye. You’ve been lucky enough to pass unnoticed so far, when you weren’t subjected to much attention, but you can’t count on that luck holding if you jaunt all over London. What if someone suspected, or someone jostled you and your hair tumbled down?’
‘The cat would be in with the pigeons then,’ she admitted with a sigh. ‘Please, can I have just one ale? I cannot bear the prospect of returning just yet. Besides, I need to delay long enough to make sure Papa has finished his meeting, dropped his papers off at the office and returned home. I don’t want to risk going back in to change if there’s a chance of encountering him.’
‘Won’t he make sure the office is locked up before he leaves? How will you get in?’
She grinned and patted her waistcoat pocket. ‘I brought a key. An engineer needs to think out every detail of a project. So you see, I can’t go back just yet.’
‘Very well, but you’ll have to suffer my escort. I’m not setting you loose in London on your own. Hop in, Miss Cranmore.’
‘That sounds very formal. After all we’ve succeeded in doing today, don’t you think you should call me “Marcella”? At least when there’s no one about to overhear.’
‘Not while you are wearing men’s garments,’ he retorted.
After she climbed up, laughing, he gathered the reins and hopped into the vehicle, searching his brain for a tavern that was respectable, but not too fashionable or close to anywhere he might run into someone he knew. Any ton acquaintance he chanced to encounter would look far more closely at his ‘cousin’s’ attire than the preoccupied engineers had. And most of them knew
his family tree well enough to be suspicious of some unknown relation from the country. He’d rather not have to invent some elaborate fiction that might come back to bite him.
He finally decided on a small tavern not far from Parliament that was frequented by travellers, drovers and common folk who served the members of Parliament, rather than by the legislators themselves. It also boasted a small back terrace set off from the busy road by a stand of evergreens. If his luck held, they could bring their tankards to that sheltered spot and converse with no one nearby to watch or overhear.
He drove to the location, handed the phaeton over to a stable boy in the attached livery, then walked in with her beside him to order their ale. He felt a prickling all over his skin, so sensitive was he to possible observation, but as at the lecture, the two labourers at the bar and the few gathered at a scattering of tables paid them no attention.
Still, he breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief when, mugs in hand, he was able to lead Marcella to the deserted side terrace.
‘It’s lovely here,’ she said, looking about. ‘You know the inn well, I take it?’
‘The tap man’s wife makes an excellent stew. It’s fortunate we arrived before workmen break for the day to take their supper, for it can get quite crowded. I often stop here for a bowl and a mug of ale after a Parliamentary debate, if I want to mull over what’s been presented alone, without a chattering multitude around me. The others attending the debate generally take their refreshment at more fashionable establishments.’
She was silent for a long time, her expression pensive. ‘I should have been born a boy. I did what I could to comfort Papa after my brother’s death, but nothing would have helped him recover like knowing he had another heir. Someone he could send to Edinburgh to study as he had, someone to train up and eventually turn over his business to. Oh, I’ve been terribly fortunate that he was willing to share as much of his career with me as he has. But even so, I was never...adequate. Never enough.’
Never adequate. Never enough. The words resonated through Crispin. Hadn’t he so often felt that way with a father he could never please? A mother whose unhappiness he’d tried to ease but ultimately couldn’t prevent?
She paused to take a sip of her ale. ‘After this taste of freedom, it will be even harder for me to reconcile myself to playing that lesser role.’
Disturbed by her melancholy, Crispin didn’t know what to say to console her. It was regrettable that her brilliance and drive were destined to be wasted on domestic tasks that didn’t interest her. ‘You’ll just have to marry that man who will make you happy to be his wife.’
‘I suppose so.’ But she didn’t sound as enthused about her engineer as she had when discussing him previously. After taking a last sip of her ale, she set down her mug. ‘I must steel myself to return. Back to propriety. Back to performing my proper role,’ she concluded, a bitter note in her voice.
While he watched, unhappy at her distress, she walked over to the screen of tall evergreens. ‘Sometimes I wish I could stay hidden away, like this garden.’
‘I wouldn’t have brought you to the lecture if I’d known it would make you sad.’
‘No, be glad you did. Despite having to go back, I’m still so grateful that I got to attend. You’ve given me the only taste of what life might have been I shall likely ever have. I shall be fiercely grateful for that for ever. More grateful than you can imagine.’
He walked over to her, trying to think of something consoling to say, when abruptly she turned to face him. ‘This grateful.’ Lifting her chin, she reached up, pulled his head down and kissed him.
The desire he’d been containing all day strained his control to the breaking point. While he fought to keep it from disintegrating completely, he couldn’t help responding to the kiss he’d wanted too much for too long.
Just a bit deeper, just a bit longer, his senses urged. She didn’t help his unravelling restraint by meeting his lips with fervent eagerness, pressing her body against his.
He wrapped his arms around her, his tongue tracing her lips. When she opened for him, he couldn’t keep himself from plunging inside, seeking her tongue and tangling it with his while he taught her the sweet dance of advance and retreat.
A loud screech of carriage brakes and the shouting of two carters whose vehicles had almost collided on the road beyond finally recalled him from madness. Breathing hard, he broke away.
Madness it was. Not just kissing her, which was madness enough. But kissing her when anyone from the tavern who happened to walk on to the terrace would think he’d just been passionately embracing another man.
She stood staring at him, eyes foggy with desire, her breathing rapid as his own.
‘Good thing this place is so secluded,’ he said when he could catch his breath. ‘Not that I have any personal objections myself, but had anyone seen us, I might have got myself arrested.’
Initial puzzlement was followed by comprehension, then her face blushed. ‘Better arrested than married,’ she retorted, ‘which is what could have happened if I were in female garb. One is only temporary, the other permanent. In any event, I suppose it’s time to leave. Papa should be on his way home by now.’
Still unsettled, he gathered the mugs and let her walk with him back into the tavern to deposit them.
Though he didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to take her back to her father’s office and follow her into that storeroom, kiss her again and caress the full length of those lovely legs whose presence titillated him with every step she took.
A lady’s ball gown might get the prize for best displaying bare shoulders, the tempting upper curve of breasts. But a gown couldn’t compare to the breath-stealing impact of imagining how a pair of snug knit riding breeches would outline that trim bottom, rounded hips and slim legs. It was a wonder his overheated brain didn’t melt at the image.
Still fighting to beat back his unslaked desire, he walked with her to the stables, retrieved his phaeton, then unashamedly took his last chance to frankly stare at her trouser-clad form as she pulled herself up into the vehicle.
Turning to him after he’d set the vehicle in motion, she said with a brave smile, ‘We had a splendid adventure, didn’t we?’
‘Once I get you safely back into your father’s office, see you emerge dressed in your normal attire and sent home in a hackney, then I’ll agree it has been.’
‘An adventure that will remain our secret.’
He liked the idea of having a secret she shared only with him. A rare, unprecedented experience, just as unique and exceptional as she was. A woman who made him burn with a desire as fierce as his admiration for her talent and intellect.
He’d better be glad she was soon to return to her own world—before she tempted him beyond all prudence.
‘I don’t know,’ he replied, keeping his voice light, wanting to prevent a return of her melancholy, now that that adventure was almost over. ‘I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to see you in skirts again without remembering how you look in trousers.’
She laughed, as he’d hoped she would. ‘Perhaps you’ll see me like that again some day.’
Unlikely, much as he would love it. He’d love to see much more of her—without the gown or the trousers. He could envision having an animated discussion of bridges and railway viaducts over dinner...then carrying her up to his chamber and making love to her all through the night.
Every night.
Shocked at the direction his thoughts had taken, he quickly reminded himself that such a scenario would require the one sacrifice he wasn’t willing to make for her, or anyone. Marriage.
While he wrestled with his thoughts, Miss Cranmore remained silent on the drive back, in marked contrast to her excitement on the way to the lecture.
‘Are you still regretting that glimpse into a life you cannot have?’ he asked quietly as he pulled up the team in
the alleyway behind the office.
‘No. Not really. Well, maybe a little. But I would never have had even this taste—except for you.’ She put a hand up, caressing his cheek. Unable to prevent himself, he put his hand on hers to hold it against him.
‘What a marvel you are,’ she said softly. ‘I can’t imagine anyone else who would have done that for me. Not Papa, certainly not Mr Gilling. I’ll never forget it. If ever I can do you such a signal service, you have only to ask.’
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her—what? Stay with me? Let me make love to you?
Desire really had addled his brain, he thought, allowing the ugly memories of his unhappy youth to overwhelm the enticing vision of her wrapped in his arms. If he were to risk marrying her, it was highly unlikely their initial harmony would last. How much more bitter would it be to begin on such a note of joy, only to have that harmony disintegrate over years of life’s disappointments and inevitable disagreements into a mutual indifference, even active dislike?
No, it wasn’t worth the risk. When he married, he would choose someone who’d fulfil his minimum expectations. A woman who’d wed him to become a countess, who would run his household with efficiency, produce heirs—and leave him to experience the highs and lows of life on his own. He’d not be responsible for ensuring her happiness, or she his.
A lifetime of failing to protect his mother’s had taught him what an impossible task that would be.
Still, he hated to end what had been a magical interlude. ‘Are you sure you can get home safely? I’d feel better if drove you.’
‘That wouldn’t be prudent. I took a hackney to the office. Papa thinks I was going afterwards to Lady Arlsley’s, while Lady Arlsley believes I was to return home after tea with Papa. How could I explain turning up under your escort? No, better that I return in a hackney, as I always do after visiting Upper Brook Street.’
‘I’ll linger here, then, and keep watch until you are in that hackney on your way home.’
‘Watch out for me, like you did at the musicale?’
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