by Sally Orr
He tilted his head; perhaps the bear inside him grew. Then he laughed. “I agree to your outrageous demands, madam. As your noble knight, I deserve a chance to win the fair lady. What dragons must I slay?” He flashed the wicked smile. “However, I must warn you that my restraint can be fragile. I may swoop in, kidnap you like a medieval knight, and never let you go.”
“Indeed, I understand my precarious situation.” She returned his smile. “For the first step, you must never blame or tease Lily for refusing James. She regrets it, I know, but we all make poor choices in life when we are young.”
“I never did.” He winked.
She raised her hand to cover her smile. Be brave; don’t let him seduce you into a situation that would never suit. Your family’s happiness is at stake. “Also, once in a while, you may need to listen to Lily’s poetry or romantic stories.”
He raised his hand and rubbed his chin. “That bad, eh?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I’ll survive—maybe.”
She swiftly clapped. “Then, sir knight, you may take the first step,” she said in a queenly manner.
“Right!” His right foot extended out and about as far as it could, then he took the big step.
She had taken quite a few steps to reach the sofa. By her calculations, he only needed three steps, so she had better combine some of her wishes. Otherwise, this would all end in a bout of passionate kisses. “For the second step, I need you to assist me in the care of my family. In particular, you might have to escort the girls to balls and parties.”
“Can I remain in the card room?”
She nodded her head and chuckled. “No, you must partner them in the dance, until you find some nice, unmarried young gentleman for them to wed. Then you may retire your escort services.”
He impatiently sighed. “Fair enough. Gather up unlicked cubs for the girls to marry.” Then without her invitation, he took another step.
“In a hurry?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. How about you?”
She chuckled. From the exaggerated length of his steps, this request would be her last. “I never realized your steps covered so much ground. So, for my final request, I need you to assist Tom and Fitzy.”
“Easy.”
“We all teach by example. You must provide the example of the grace and good manners of a gentleman.”
“I give you my vow to do my best, but I must warn you. On occasion, I might present an example of what not to do.” He reached up to loosen his cravat knot.
She gave him a soft smile. “I do not believe that.”
He paused, eyes bright, and gave her a single nod. “Thank you for the compliment.” After one quick step, he embraced her, then whispered in her ear. “Meta, dearest, of course I will meet all of these promises. They are important to you, so they are important to me. But all of your requests are for others. What promise can I give you, my love? What do you need?”
No one had ever asked her that question. She stood fixed, staring up into eyes expressing his devotion. Did she herself know the answer? Perhaps she needed to help her family, by setting aside her own dreams of love.
Would she sacrifice her dreams now?
She must either set her life on the shelf to attend her family until they no longer needed her, or acknowledge her desire to spend her life with the man she loved.
The man she loved.
Like a flash of light from a match lit in a dark room, she understood the character of the man she loved better: his offer to reside with her family; his offer to help her siblings; and his offer to listen to an amateur poet. She looked directly into his eyes and felt a tear gather in her own. “I need you.”
“I promise to love you forever. Marry me? Please.”
“Yes,” she managed, stifling the urge to spin around and sing her favorite song. “Yes.” She nodded repeatedly. “Yes, yes.”
He leaned down, lifted her chin, and took her lips in a slow, achingly tender kiss. “We need to do more of this—much more. As a matter of fact, I wish to be alone with my bride soon—very soon.” This time his words were followed by kisses of joy and celebration.
“Why would you like to be alone with your bride, sir knight?” She failed to hide the laughter in her tone.
“You know full well, my heavenly hare. I plan to keep you hopping, yes, indeed, hopping.”
“And I plan to enjoy that.” Another kiss began that turned into a long, delicious moment. For her, this kiss was not about matrimonial celebration, nor tender affection, but simple bodily desire generated from physical closeness to the man she loved.
When they finished kissing, and after perhaps twenty minutes had passed, George led her to the empire sofa. “There are things we must discuss.”
“Of course.” Should she tell him about her money now? Get the secret out and over with?
“I understand the importance of having your loved ones near.” He chuckled. “Admittedly, I did not always realize the importance myself. Therefore, I will move in with you and your family.” He leaned over, nibbled on her ear, and dropped his voice. “If you approve?”
Meta knew his parents meant the world to him. His mother’s long illness only brought out his protective side, and she knew he would leave it with great difficulty. With her spirits soaring, she placed her hand on his broad thigh. Underneath her hand, she could feel the thick muscle and the warmth of his body. Nothing would please her more than having this man deep within her, caressing her, and loving her. The nibbles were replaced with long and slow kisses around her neck. After a minute, she eased into liquid anticipation.
If she didn’t keep her wits about her, she would ravish him right here amongst his models and books. “I don’t want you to leave your parents either. Therefore, let us find a house big enough for our whole family, perhaps closer to the tunnel.”
He held her at arm’s length to study her face. “You understand we’ll have to discuss our funding situation before any decision is made?”
“I’d rather we get it over with, so we can tell everyone about our engagement. You see…”
His brows knit.
Was he cross for bringing up the indelicate subject of money? “It’s just—I mean—I’m a wealthy woman.”
He pulled back farther. “Then why are you living with your family?” Before she could answer, his brow smoothed, and the grin returned. He slapped his thigh. “The necessity of keeping them close, meeting their needs, and sharing your life?”
She nodded.
“Well, I always figured on marrying a wealthy woman.” He winked. “Of course you know what that means?”
She shook her head.
He swiftly moved and lifted her into his arms. “Being plump in the pocket means no possibility that The Rake’s Handbook: Including Field Guide will ever be published again. If the publisher goes against my wishes, and his brother’s wishes, I can now buy up every copy. Thank heavens.”
“We can buy up every copy. I have personal experience with that. We’ll make sure that book is never available again, anywhere, if need be.”
They exchanged grins.
“George dearest, spin me around please? I enjoy twirling when I’m happy.”
He examined the situation. “Quarters too close, but as you wish, my love.” He set her down to lift her under her knees and back, so she was cradled in his arms.
They began to spin.
After four, or five, or six, seven, eight rotations, they both burst into laughter. They heard someone descending the staircase, so George set her feet on solid ground.
Fitzy held the door open, and Michael entered carrying a white plaster cast about a foot long. He carried it to the large desk and set it down. Everyone gathered around to admire the statue.
She could easily make out two hands holding one another, one male and one female. She gasped softly, doubting anyone heard her. “How beautiful.”
Fitzy straightened. “I thought you might like it. It’s a cast, of cou
rse, of Mr. and Mrs. Drexel holding hands. That was our surprise to Mrs. Drexel from Mr. Drexel and me. I could tell she was pleased too. Because when we wanted to take it out of the room to show you, she made her objections known. We had to promise to return it soon.”
Michael Drexel wore a winsome smile and nodded. “This memento will mean so much to her when I’m gone.”
They all became silent.
George found her hand and squeezed it.
Finally, Fitzy turned to George. “You see, sir, with your permission, I wish to stop drawing and modeling engineering projects. I understand it forwards England’s future. Except sometimes the future is something smaller; something more meaningful to people; something as simple as a cast of two people holding hands. Emotion is the real language and the power behind art.” He turned. “Right, Meta?”
Tears welled up in her eyes to the extent she could not see, so she gave him a tight smile and nodded.
George stepped forward and enclosed her in a warm, safe embrace.
She let her tears fall on the rough wool of his waistcoat.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to make you unhappy,” Fitzy said, his brows knit and his palm placed on her back.
“Don’t worry, son,” George said, giving her a squeeze, then kissing her temple. “These are happy tears. Females tend to do this on significant occasions.”
Michael smiled at his son. “And a gentleman should provide comfort by holding them tight.”
“Well, I have something to say,” George said, lifting his chin above her head to address Fitzy. “Would you do your sister and me the honor of using our hands to make a similar cast?”
She saw Michael grab his son’s forearm.
George held her tighter. “I promise our cast too will be cherished forever.”
Author’s Note
This book is a work of fiction inspired by the lives of Sir Marc and Isambard Brunel and the construction of the Thames Tunnel. Some of the dates and events were changed to suit the story. While the Thames Tunnel was started in 1825, the banquet took place in 1827, six months after the first major water intrusion. In 1828, the Thames Tunnel Company ran out of funds and the tunnel was sealed off. Thanks to the influence of people like the Duke of Wellington, Parliament granted funds and the digging started again in 1835. It was finally opened in 1843.
In 1869, the Thames Tunnel was sold to the railroad company and now the London Underground owns it. In 2002, in order to stop the tunnel from being blasted with a coat of concrete, the tunnel was declared a grade II historical monument and given a careful restoration.
Today fourteen million people travel though the Thames Tunnel every year. The Brunel Museum is on the Rotherhithe side where the public can view some parts of the tunnel and engine house. On rare occasions when the underground trains are stopped, groups of very, very lucky people are guided into the tunnel on foot. Since it is the first tunnel ever constructed under a navigable river, it truly is a remarkable achievement begun in the Georgian era. To me, it will always remain what the newspapers called it upon its completion: “The Eighth Wonder of the World.”
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