Lewis went to the shelf and reached for a handful of the zinc cans. As he turned, two workmen went by carrying a wooden bench upholstered in leather, meant as a seat for the submarine interior. The inside would be as luxurious as the outside was practical. Looking at the bench inevitably reminded him of his interlude on the sofa in his room, and he wished he’d found the time to see Lady Allen-Hill again. In a less-isolated locale, he might have walked to the village and purchased her some small token of his appreciation. But since she had not searched him out either, he had to consider that he’d not pleased her well, as he initially hoped. Or she had not intended that they share more than one night.
When the bench had passed, he could see a woman walking toward him. The lady of his thoughts, her dark hair tucked under a jaunty hat, moving with purpose in his direction. Her hips swayed visibly, even under her coat, waking his cock. As if in a dream, he put down the cans and walked forward, sawdust tickling his nose.
“Mr. Noble,” she said in her husky voice as she stopped in front of him.
Not sure where to begin, he stood, tongue-tied. She winced, which called him to action. Reaching out, he clasped her arm. She looked down, then jerked back. With dismay, he saw he’d left dark fingerprints on the gray fabric of her coat.
“Terribly sorry,” he exclaimed. He reached for a handkerchief but didn’t find one in his pocket. She pointed to his neck, and he realized he’d tied a large red pocket square around it at some point.
“What a dirty boy you are,” she said.
In that dulcet tone, he wasn’t sure if she were referring to his physical disarray or their activities of Thursday evening. “My apologies. I did not mean to muss you.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “I haven’t seen you at meals or, indeed, anywhere else. I was afraid you and the earl had drowned in that contraption of yours.”
“Not yet,” he said cheerfully. “You shall have your chance to worry soon enough. But, on a more serious note, we have been at the infernal beast all night. I haven’t left the stable in at least thirty-six hours.”
“You should get some rest before you become silly,” she said, lifting her chin to his neck again.
Shaking his head, he untied it and handed it to her so that she could dab at her coat.
“Water might help, but I think the trough is iced over,” he said ruefully.
“I’m sure one of the maids can fix it.” She wiped harder.
“I wouldn’t wait long. I might have had acid on my hands.”
She tsked. “Wouldn’t that damage your skin?”
He shook his head. “Immune, after the years of foul substances that have coated me.”
“I did notice the black lines on your palms. Permanently baked in, I suppose.”
“And under my nails,” he agreed. “Mechanical work is a foul business.”
She nodded. The brim of her hat shaded just enough of her right eye that he couldn’t quite gauge her emotions. He waited for her to speak, to give him some clue of how she wanted him to proceed.
“I did miss you last night,” she said softly. “This is my first experience, of, err, house-party antics. I was afraid I didn’t please you.”
“Not at all, my dear.” He leaned his head toward hers to give them some privacy, but it only served to garner attention from the workmen, who were returning to pick up the next bench.
“The earl wants us to be ready to start testing tomorrow. It is so busy here that I am afraid you will be hurt.” He didn’t mean for his concern to sound like a dismissal, but she took his sleeve in her hands, pulling his palm toward her, and placed the red handkerchief in it. Then she turned away.
“Lady Allen-Hill,” he said, “please don’t go. Wouldn’t you like to see what we are doing?”
He knew she wouldn’t, of course. Machinery did not fascinate women.
“You are busy.” She shook her head. “I should not have interrupted your work.”
As if to prove her point, he heard the earl’s voice coming from the other side of the stables, calling for him.
“I would like to talk to you some more,” he said. “Just not now. I would like to come to your room later.”
She stepped up to him and touched her lips to his. The warmth of her surprised him, and he parted his lips, meaning to speak. Her response was tender and innocent. A different woman might have tangled tongues with him, but she kept her lips closed in a sweet bow. He wondered how much this naughty widow really knew about lovemaking. Had she chosen him to teach her?
But he could do nothing now. The earl called again, and if they were spotted in this compromising position, especially with her father in residence, he might find himself engaged to the Liverpool heiress with alarming speed.
He put his hands on her cheeks and gently moved her. Her hands went to the places where his fingers had touched. Of course he’d left marks again, and this time on her skin. She stared at him, wide-eyed, a picture of maidenly confusion.
Lewis felt hot breath at his ear and turned to find the earl uncomfortably close.
“Lost my spectacles,” Nicholas said. “Can’t quite see who this lady is.”
“It’s Lady Allen-Hill, my lord,” she said, flashing Lewis an impishly relieved smile. “I was taking a walk.”
Without his spectacles, the earl would probably not be able to discern the marks on her face. He was notoriously farsighted.
“I would confine your movements elsewhere,” the earl said. “Dangerous around here. Now Noble, can you get those batteries connected, if you please?”
“Of course,” Lewis said. “Straightaway.” He nodded at the woman with the black dots on her face and followed the earl back into the barn, wondering what she wanted with an absentminded inventor like him.
Victoria continued to walk, bemused by the carnality of Lewis’s kiss. Underneath her combinations, her thighs were damp with desire. She wanted more. Behind the stables, she glimpsed the lake and walked to it, catching the gleam of the submarine’s metal outer shell where it rested on blocks. She continued east, following the edge of the lake so she would be able to find her way back to the Fort even if it went out of view.
While she walked, she pondered the mystery of Lewis Noble. She’d still had no glimpse into the workings of his brain. She could not even theorize if he liked her. That kiss had been the first time she’d ever been truly certain he found her desirable. He’d forgotten himself enough to touch her face.
She walked down to the edge of the lake. Sparkling ice dotted the lower levels of vegetation, but beyond that the water was clear. Leaning over, she attempted to capture her reflection. When she touched her cheek with her gray wool glove, it came away with a bit of dark grease. She had suspected as much. Lewis had left his mark on her skin, too. She pulled off a glove and dipped a hand into the water.
“Ah!” she gasped as the cold touched her skin. Quickly, she scrubbed at her face, then wiped the grease off with a handkerchief. Eventually, she felt presentable again. She tucked away the handkerchief and pulled on her glove.
When she turned away from the lake, she saw a man watching her. At first, she assumed it was one of the earl’s workmen, but then her eyes focused and she recognized Ernest Dickondell.
He grinned at her as she recognized him and jumped off a small rise. She stepped forward to meet him.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” he said with a slight bow, diminished in formality by a knowing grin.
“You are underdressed for taking the air, sir. Where is your coat?”
Indeed, his clothing was of suitable tightness to promise the viewer that there was no long wool underwear lurking underneath it. He wore town clothes, with no condescension toward winter. She suspected he knew he looked his best in spring fashions and dressed accordingly for all seasons. With her newfound knowledge of the male physique, she could see he had much to display.
“I believed the sun and followed her,” Ernest said.
“You will catch an ague.” Victoria smiled vaguely as she deci
ded where to go next. Should she continue along the lake? She wasn’t sure how far it went, and she’d need to be back with time to bathe before her next change of clothing.
“I have never felt cold in my life.”
When she regarded him curiously, he shrugged. “Strange, I know, but unless there is precipitation, I never concern myself with outerwear.”
Or underwear. She wondered how she could have such a naughty thought when she had hitched her star to Lewis’s cart. Surely she wasn’t capable of changing beds in only the course of a few days. Ernest was handsome, to be sure, and far more rakish than Lewis, but she liked the inventor’s quiet self-assurance. She also knew he was a man of strong interests. Ernest was an enigma, but the kind that wasn’t terribly interesting to her. You could assume you knew what he did with his days. Some form of exercise. Drinking, gambling, adventures with unmarriageable women.
Unlike Lewis, he might be willing to move to Liverpool, however. Did he have the intelligence to succeed her father in the family business? She knew, Lewis or not, she needed to give Ernest the opportunity to impress her, because her father would certainly be checking him out as a prospect. If she decided to dislike him, she needed to know now.
So, with Lewis’s kiss still fresh on her lips, she smiled at the second Dickondell son. “I do hope your good luck continues, sir, as I should not like you to become susceptible.”
He nodded. “May I offer you my arm, Lady Allen-Hill? There are plenty of depressions in the ground. Trouble with moles, I believe. Common around here.”
She took the proffered arm, feeling strangely adulterous. “I have always been a city dweller. No experience with rural complaints.”
“Do you plan to return to your city ways after the holidays?” He drew her in the direction of the house.
She bit her lip, not wanting to head in Lewis’s direction, but not knowing how to demur without Ernest thinking she wanted to be alone with him. “Oh, yes. I make my home in Liverpool, with my father.”
“You have a young charge, too?”
“My cousin, but she does have her own family. Mr. Dickondell, I did want to see the rest of the lake. Is it a long walk around?”
He stopped. “It might take an hour to walk it.”
“Would it be improper to ask you to accompany me?”
“Not at this time of day,” he said with a knowing smirk. “Any number of people are likely to be around, especially with Bullen playing his water games.”
“I suppose it is handy to have a body of water when you are testing aquatic equipment.”
“Oh, I don’t see what good a pond will do him,” he said dismissively. “He needs to take that submarine of his into deeper waters.”
“I shall be romantic and hope there is treasure buried in the center of the lake.”
“Then we shall indeed perambulate its length, so you can have the pleasure of describing it to all of your friends when the pond becomes famous.”
“You are too thoughtful,” she murmured.
He was quiet for a few moments as they reached the edge of the lake and began to walk above the vegetation at the edge. The sky was a solid gray, with a wall of darker color to the south. “I say, your father is a dye manufacturer, I believe?”
“Yes. Papa has been very successful.”
“But he has no sons.” Ernest’s dark eyes became shrewd.
“That is true,” she agreed, knowing he ought to be asking these questions elsewhere. Had she caught his eye in such a way that he’d addressed her due to a personal interest and not a financial one? Such fantasies on a girl’s part let fortune hunters flourish.
“I’ve never been to Liverpool,” he mused.
“It’s not all shipbuilding and banking,” she said. “We have one of the finest concert halls in the world in St. George’s Hall. Papa and I often attend operas there.”
“So you attend to culture and he attends to business?” Ernest said.
“Which do you prefer?” she countered, wanting to learn more about the man, more than his dandified appearance could tell her.
“One way or another, I shall have to make my own way in the world,” he said. “I don’t suppose it should matter to someone like you.”
“Why do you say that?” Did the man dislike wealthy women? That would be unusual.
“Because I’m sure you are looking for another title to marry. Why marry down?” he asked carelessly.
She stumbled on a clump of pebbles. He attempted to right her but had diff iculties, and by the time she was steady again, she found herself in the man’s arms.
His full lips curved and she found herself staring at a hint of incisor. She thought of wolves and stepped back quickly.
“Were you afraid I’d kiss you?” he asked, the predator’s grin in place.
She gave him a reproachful glare and he put out his hands. “Do not worry. I shall be a gentleman, though your beauty quite overwhelms a man. I must admit I’ve imagined what you must look like with all of that luxurious hair down and wrapped around your shoulders, and, err, bosom.”
“As you said, Mr. Dickondell, any number of people could be around us at any time. I would prefer you comport yourself as if we were in public.”
“Does that mean we might comport ourselves differently in private?” He leered, but she could see the humor in his eyes as he squinted down his nose at her. “A widow has more options than a maiden.”
Which she had exercised, though he didn’t know it. Still, she had some power in the courting game, courtesy of her money and title. “Mr. Dickondell, really. Without a declaration—” she trailed off delicately.
“I declare myself to be fascinated,” he exclaimed, holding his arm out to her. “I thought you were only willing to converse with Lewis Noble.”
“How ridiculous,” she said, feeling guilty, wondering how many people had noticed her shameless pursuit. “I have formed a dear friendship with his cousin, Rose Redcake, you know. One does wind up in his company at times.”
Ernest snorted. As she took his arm again, they began to walk, buffeted by winds that made the tall grasses dance around the lake. She enjoyed the movement of green and yellow in front of the gray-blue waters. “Do people swim here in summer?”
“If they did, I imagine someone would have found your buried treasure by now. The area is considered to be cursed.”
“My goodness, by what?”
“A French mermaid, I believe. Some silly legend. Can’t remember, exactly.”
“Just the bit about the mermaid intrigued you, then?”
“If you must know, yes.” His eyes twinkled. “They don’t wear clothing, you see, and I first heard the tale as a lad of twelve or so.”
She blushed, knowing what part of female anatomy Ernest found attractive. Between the mermaids and his fantasy of seeing her only clothed in her hair, he had a fascination for breasts. Luckily, despite her reducing, she still had a fine pair. If she wanted to snare him for her bed, she knew how to dress from now on.
“I have never met a lad of twelve who wasn’t beastly,” she mused.
“Very true. I am ashamed that I ever was such a craven creature.”
“What do you do with your time, Mr. Dickondell?” she asked, squeezing his arm as she stepped around a visibly muddy spot. His forearm muscles felt firm and rounded. She suspected he enjoyed physical activity.
“Help out with our farm. We’re cousins to Hatbrook, you know, and my family is attempting to learn from him. Diversification and all that. But I couldn’t support a wife right now, to be frank.”
Meaning he probably intended to marry for money. “What interests you other than farming and mermaids, Mr. Dickondell?”
“Travel, definitely. I’d like to expand my horizons, but I’ve never even been to France.”
Yes, money was his game. “I have never traveled, either.”
He helped her around a slimy pool in the middle of the path. “Perhaps someday we will toast each other in Rome or Paris.”
“Someday,” she agreed with a smile. But not anytime soon, if she had a choice in the matter.
They didn’t speak much more as they walked around the far southern end of the lake, but exchanged frequent smiles. Victoria kept hers short of romantic amusement, not feeling comfortable with kissing a second man in one day, but she could see Ernest had possibilities. When they rounded the final stretch, they saw a flurry of activity and assumed something exciting was happening at the submarine.
“Not the submarine,” Ernest said when she offered her opinion. “I believe it is the Professor with his theater.”
She could just make out a gaily-colored stage being set up in the distance. “Oh, are we going to have a Punch and Judy show? How entertaining!”
“I expect it will be mostly for the children. Don’t suppose we’ll see the hanging today.”
“The countess does seem rather strict,” she agreed. “But I do hope they bring in the crocodile.”
“I shall request it of the Bottler, if there is one,” Ernest said. “Will you sit with me at the show?”
“I don’t see why not,” she said, smiling at him.
He stopped on the path and put his hand over hers, then drew it off his arm. She watched, wide-eyed, as he bowed and turned over her hand so that it lay palm up in his much larger one. Birds rustled the leaves in the trees around them as they left their perches and climbed into the air, creating a tangible sense of chilly movement that left her shivering even before his lips touched her palm.
Instinctively, she snatched her hand away from his. Her breath rattled in her chest.
“I go too far, my lady,” Ernest said, straightening. “You are irresistible.”
She put her hand to her chest, hoping to slow her respiration. Why had this affected her so much? He didn’t mean anything to her. But she was a girl who had been all but a wallflower until now, not used to a practiced flirt.
As she attempted to catch her breath, his glance became speculative. “I shall have to take a train up to Liverpool. Perhaps your father will invite me to dinner some evening next month?”
She’d never heard a more blatant indication that a man wanted to court her, and his willingness to go north said it all. Here was a true candidate, title or no. The question was, did she like him enough to say good-bye to the title she possessed when she was ready to wed again? Her father would have to decide if this man had a good head for business.
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