Christmas Delights

by Heather Hiestand

  First, the rear doors opened, and the snub-nosed metal submarine peeked out of the building that had housed it. The metal gleamed bronze in the sharp winter sunlight, making it hard to look directly at it, as if it were some celestial being. The first man appeared, holding onto a handle on the side of the watercraft. Iron chains secured it to a wagon base with sturdy wheels. She wondered why they weren’t using horses to pull it, but perhaps the earl didn’t want to take the risk. Instead, it seemed that every man on the estate had been called to push or pull. From the side opposite her, better-dressed men spilled out from the barn doors. The earl, Lewis, and a couple of their regular men appeared. Even Eddy and the Baron of Alix were there to shout orders as the wagon began to pull to the left instead of moving straight ahead.

  She saw a dock had been built at the reedy edge of the lake, where it lowered into the water so that she couldn’t see the final edge of the planking. Someone had thought about this launch process in detail. They had chosen a spot behind the barn, where the ground sloped gently toward the lake. Of course, she had to wonder how much more difficult it would be to get it back out of the lake again after. Did the earl plan to have it remain in the water forever?

  A hatch at the top provided an entrance to the inside of the submarine. She wondered if anyone was inside, or would the explorers swim into the lake and climb in after? None of them were dressed to go in the chilly water. In fact, some of them, Lewis included, had stripped off their coats during their exertions, as if there were no ladies present. Lewis had even loosened his tie and undone his collar. As he came closer to the edge of the lake, Victoria could see the muscles of his strong throat move as he shouted words of encouragement to the other men. He danced nimbly out of the way as the earl stopped moving unexpectedly. His grace made her knees weak and her stomach tighten. Some place between her legs that had been awakened by his touch twitched, as if coming alive at the sight of his smooth-working muscles, his virile movements, his passion.

  “You’re gaping like a goose,” Lady Barbara said.

  Victoria’s chin tilted back, her mouth snapping closed as she noticed her friend right next to her. She hadn’t even seen her coming down from the house.

  “Is the submarine that fascinating? I hadn’t thought so.” Lady Barbara wrinkled her nose.

  Victoria watched the alarm of the men as they realized the wagon’s speed was increasing as the ground sloped. “I just hope no one gets run over.”

  Lady Barbara’s expression calmed. “I can think of a couple of people I would cheerfully allow to be so trampled.”

  Victoria touched her friend’s arm. “I should have let him come into my room. I sent him off and this is the result. I’m sorry.”

  Surprisingly, Lady Barbara smirked. “Are you serious? My sister was his second choice last night?”

  Victoria saw her cousin coming back from the edge of the lake, into earshot, so she merely nodded.

  “How delicious,” her friend said. “I may appear the loser, but at least I now know the truth of my sister’s grand passion.”

  “Not so grand,” Victoria agreed.

  “What isn’t grand?” Penelope asked, rubbing her nose on her sleeve.

  “Handkerchief,” Victoria scolded.

  “I can’t find it.” Penelope sniffed. “What are you talking about?”

  Victoria fished a cotton square from her coat pocket and handed it over. “The submarine. Isn’t it grand?”

  Penelope shrugged. “I like the swans better.”

  Lady Barbara smiled and patted the girl’s shoulder. “If you can keep a secret, I will confide that I do as well. I hope we do not lose the fowl to my brother’s project.”

  “But he is going to find treasure, isn’t he?” The girl blew her nose.

  Lady Barbara’s smile widened. “We can only hope, so he can defray the cost of this mad project. Lewis Noble will be able to build a castle of his own on the proceeds.”

  “Why do you say that?” Victoria asked.

  “He supplied all of the materials, and half of the men working on the submarine are his. Not to mention he invented various parts of the machinery.”

  “Indeed.” She’d known of his talents, but here was confirmation. Surely her father would approve of such a suitor.

  “Oh, yes. I believe they hope to sell the project to the military in the end, and make a fortune that way. Better than betting on horses, I suppose.”

  “Gracious,” Victoria murmured. “I knew he was brilliant, of course, but I didn’t realize quite how involved he was.”

  “Mr. Noble is a very humble man, but to my tastes that makes him all the more appealing. Because he has no need for humility.”

  “I quite agree.” Did Lady Barbara have a romantic interest in Lewis? She glanced over to the men and saw Lewis’s arm muscles flexing as he helped to slow the wagon. Heavens knew that she did. Why was it that she thought of him in terms of being a suitor instead of just a lover? It was her father’s fault, with all his talk of a speedy remarriage.

  “But for all his unassuming ways, I have observed how easily he leads his men. Why, even my brother sharpens to Mr. Noble’s directives. He is the one in charge, not Bullen, no matter how it seems.”

  Victoria looked with new interest at the path to the dock. She now saw that horses were involved in the process. In fact, they had been harnessed to the back of the wagon, facing toward the barn. Someone—most likely Lewis—had foreseen a need for brakes after all.

  He let go of the rope and thrust his arm in the air, a finger pointed toward the barn, shouting orders. So, she imagined, a commander would bark orders in the midst of battle. Oh, she saw beneath the unassuming exterior to the real man now. She would not underestimate him again, and she would not turn her focus to another man either. She wanted this one, and him she must decipher, entice, seduce.

  There might be more than one angle to pursue. How could she turn her father away from his insistence that she reside in Liverpool? That must be resolved.

  “I have lost your cousin’s interest again,” Lady Barbara told Penelope. “I had no idea she found submarines so interesting.”

  “She is probably dreaming up the next part of her fairy tale,” Penelope said with a sniff. “I long to hear more about Everilda’s adventures. Five melting coins cold; that is where she left the story.”

  “Have you figured that out?” Lady Barbara asked.

  Victoria smiled. “Maybe I have.”

  Lewis ate bread and cheese in the barn that evening, ignoring the sound of the dinner gong ringing over the property. The submarine had exhibited a pinhole leak and he had to find the source of the problem, and then have the part remanufactured.

  “No water,” the earl said, poking his head out of the hatch.

  “It’s not that side, then. I wonder if we’ve got a problem with the bottom. We’ve tested everything else.” Lewis regarded the metal cylinder with disfavor. He preferred designing to testing.

  “Do you want to turn it upside down?” the earl asked.

  “We could pour water over the floor and see where it drips out.”

  “I don’t like that idea. Might damage the interior.”

  “It’s already wet,” Lewis growled.

  “No need to snarl.” The earl grinned at him. He never minded spending time in the submarine, regardless of the reason for it.

  Lewis wanted flesh. First of all, he wanted a good leg of lamb, properly prepared. Then he wanted a woman. To think a willing one waited for him in the Fort, but only if he could get to her. That had been the impossible part. Could he chuck the project and focus on Victoria instead? But if he did, the earl would probably send him back to Battersea, not let him remain as a houseguest. His connection to the aristocracy was much too tenuous to make him a suitable visitor.

  “You know, Noble, I feel as though I am losing your attention.” The earl pushed the hatch completely open and used his arms to lever himself out of the submarine. He sat on the edge and clasped one
knee to his chest. “What’s troubling you, old man?”

  “We’re done for tonight,” Lewis said. “If we have to flip this bastard over, we’ll need all the men.”

  “Will it damage the instruments?”

  Lewis shrugged. “We can do it in the water. That will be easier on the men.”

  “I was asking about the instruments.”

  “I don’t bloody know. I wasn’t planning to flip the thing when I designed it. What does it matter, anyway? If we break something, we’ll fix it.”

  The earl nodded. “Fair enough. Best to let her dry out a bit. We’ll resume tomorrow.”

  Lewis found his shapeless old coat and stomped back up to the house, the earl at his side. “So tell me, Nicholas, was this party designed just to find your sisters husbands, or were some of the ladies supposed to be dangling after you?”

  The earl let out a dramatic sigh. “I can avoid the lot of them when I work in the stables.”

  “You have to fill your nursery one of these days.”

  “I hope to unload my sisters first. I would love to send my aunt away, too, but I don’t know how I can manage that. Too many women in the Fort, if you ask me. I’m not going to add another.”

  “You don’t have to reside here. You and your wife could live in London.”

  The earl was shaking his head as they reached the back terrace. “I like it here. They can go, instead of rusticating here. But what about you? Who is mending your shirts these days?”

  “I don’t have a title to secure.” Lewis pulled open the door and they stepped into a corridor outside the ballroom.

  “No, but you seem far more interested in the women than I am. I’ve seen you looking at Lady Allen-Hill with a certain gleam in your eye. No surprise, in truth. She has blossomed since marrying my unfortunate cousin.”

  Lights flared on in the corridor. Someone had lit the lamps. A footman, probably, to make sure all was in readiness as the guests moved into the ballroom for a few sets of country dancing.

  “I cannot deny that she is appealing.” Lewis’s eyes adjusted slowly to the light, after the darkness outside. “But she’s not for me. Liverpool, you know.”

  He heard a low-pitched laugh and recognized the voice instantly. Lady Allen-Hill; Victoria. Had she heard him? But what did it matter? She knew he was settled down in Battersea, like an old ship, no longer seaworthy, docked for a final time.

  The group of women reached them. Victoria, Lady Barbara, Rose Redcake, even Maud Wilson, the Dickondell cousin. He supposed they were all dressed to dance, but only Victoria’s ebony, low-cut gown caught his eye.

  “How delightful,” Lady Barbara said. “Are you going to dance with us, Bullen?”

  The earl stopped, his gaze fixed on his sister in a kind of mute horror.

  Lewis traded glances with Victoria, but then his stomach rumbled loudly. “Off to dinner,” he said.

  “Oh, but you must dance,” his cousin Rose insisted.

  “I think Mr. Noble would faint dead away from hunger if forced to,” Victoria opined. “No, we will have to do without them tonight.”

  “I think I will go up to my room,” Lewis said, hoping she understood his point. “Have a tray sent up.”

  The women turned into the ballroom, their heads held stiffly in that position of wounded feminine pride so familiar to men who had thwarted desires.

  “Why don’t we retire to the billiards room?” the earl suggested. “We can order sandwiches and have a cigar.”

  “And talk submarines to the wee hours. No, I think I prefer to ruminate quietly,” Lewis said. “Go dance with Lady Barbara. She could use some attention after finding out your younger sister is to be married first.”

  “Why, Noble, you sound positively feminine.”

  “I lived with my cousins for years. I remember how important things like who became engaged first were.”

  “I suppose you are right. If I don’t stroke her ego, I’m sure to pay in a dozen little ways.” The earl directed his attention to a group of men walking toward them. “Off to dance? No time for brandy first?”

  The Baron of Alix offered a rueful smile. “Engagement party, you know.”

  Lewis saw Ernest Dickondell in the middle of the crowd. From the blurry gaze and off-kilter tilt of his tie, he suspected the man was blind drunk already. It was time to go before he was forced to join the party. The corridor seethed with people, some he recognized and others he did not. He suspected there would be a late start on work the next morning as everyone in the castle would be celebrating.

  When he reached his room, he rang the bell to order food, then cast himself onto the sofa. Expecting silence, he started at the sound of Eddy’s congested “hello.”

  “Good gad, I’d forgotten all about you,” Lewis exclaimed.

  “S’all right.” Eddy sniffed. “I can ring for anything I need.”

  “Not any better?”

  “Worse,” he said with a cough. “I hope no one else gets this, though the maid who brought me tea earlier was sniffling.”

  “I should send you home now,” Lewis decided. “You’ll be down for the rest of the house party.”

  Eddy’s face contorted in mock outrage. “Don’t put me on a train now, guv. Not when I can be sick in comfort.”

  Lewis checked his conscience and decided it would be cruel to send the boy away, no matter how convenient it might be for him. He had made himself responsible for Eddy, and who knew how much trouble he could get up to between here and London? “Very well. Go and rest. I’m going to order food. What do you want?”

  Not surprisingly, the boy had no appetite.

  An hour later, Lewis had eaten and bathed the lake muck off his chilled body. An hour after that, he was pacing the hearth rug, thinking over each and every rivet in the submarine’s skin, trying to decide if there was a way of finding the leak without flipping the fragile craft. Seams ran between the wide wood planking of the interior floor. Could he test their seaworthiness without damaging anything?

  Probably not. But if he pulled out the benches, and then the planks, he could reach the exterior from the inside and do a water test. As long as they didn’t strip any bolts, it would all go back in smoothly enough.

  After twenty minutes, the hearth rug became too small for his pacing. He could hear Eddy’s raspy, congested breathing from his bed. At least the lad slept soundly. Lewis went into the corridor and walked down to the staircases leading to the next levels and then back again. When he reached his door, he saw a light flickering at the other end of the hall, near the window that looked out to the lake. The servants had never left a light there before. He walked toward it, eventually distinguishing a dark form huddled over something.

  “Lady Allen-Hill,” he said when he came close enough to see it was her, still in her evening dress, but with her dressing gown thrown over the deliciously revealing, low-cut confection. “Writing letters at this late hour?”

  She glanced up, seemingly shocked out of deep thought. “No. I was thinking about five melting coins cold.”

  “What does that mean?” Bemused, he sat across from her in the other armchair in the alcove.

  “My fairy tale has a princess who has to solve riddles to win her betrothed back from the clutches of her stepmother’s shade, but I imagined myself into a corner. I don’t know how to solve the riddle of five melting coins cold.” She smiled ruefully, folding her hands over her dressing gown.

  “Metal is forged and tempered. In other words, heated and then cooled. Metal for coins has to be melted, then formed into rods for slicing. I don’t know the actual process, but perhaps the rods are tempered.”

  “I guess they will have to be in my story,” Victoria muttered. “Evil coins? Cursed coins? Blessed coins?”

  “Coins forged in hell?” he suggested.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Now you are teasing me, but I don’t want to be a storyteller with a bad story.”

  “How about a creature with hands of fire who melts metal, t
hen passes them to a creature with hands of ice?”

  “What would Princess Everilda have to do to achieve her quest?”

  “They could appear and start juggling the burning and icy coins around her. She’d have to escape them.”

  “Not bad,” she said. “I could work with that. Thank you, Lewis.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Mind the candle,” he said, pushing it out of the way.

  “I was.” She reseated herself, holding her dressing gown at the throat. “How is Eddy?”

  Somehow, this was not the way he had imagined their first private encounter in days. She seemed distant. Had he lost her interest already? “Sick. I wanted to send him home but had second thoughts.”

  “Penelope was unwell, too.”

  He drummed his fingers on the armrest. “They don’t give us much chance to speak. Well, that and Bullen’s project.”

  “I thought perhaps you considered that to be for the best.” Her voice was quiet.

  Her words made him louder. “Really?”

  “I should not have said that.” She glanced down.

  He took a deep breath, remembering what Bullen had said about stroking the egos of ladies to keep them from causing unpleasantness. “I like you, Lady Allen-Hill.”

  “It is a very partial affection,” she said softly.

  He saw the hurt in her expression and so found himself rising, blowing out the candle, and letting the smoke drift around him as he lowered himself to the table at her knees. Wasn’t lust enough? “I ache for you.”

  She leaned forward. One hand moved. She placed it against him, at the top of his trousers. Then she slid it down. He felt himself strain against the weight of her palm, wondered if she would trace him through the wool. What would she do next? He longed for curtains to hide them away from prying eyes.

  “This is where it aches,” she whispered. Then her fingers left his manhood desolate as they rose. She rapped her nails against his forehead. “Not here.” She moved her hand again, over his heart. “Or here. I must at least have your thoughts or you will never think of how we are to be together.”