Viridis - A Steampunk Romance

by Calista Taylor

  “Is this gentleman bothering you, Phoebe?” A cold, familiar voice came from behind them, cutting through the warm effects of the Viridis, sending a shard of panic through her heart.

  “Victor,” she stood and forced a smile. “Thank you, but no. Everything is fine here.”

  The last person she wanted to see was Lord Victor Fenwick— especially with Seth present. In Seth’s absence, Phoebe had no other amorous ties, and Victor had started courting her soon after she opened her club, even going as far as asking Gabriel for her hand in marriage. Gabriel had made it clear it was her decision to make, which only made Victor more persistent in his pursuit.

  Seth also stood, the crease in his brow making it clear he was unhappy about the interruption. Phoebe made the introductions. “Lord Victor Fenwick, Mr. Seth Elliott.”

  Though they were both exceptionally handsome, they couldn’t have been more different. Seth was tall, lean and muscular. His dark hair was long enough to brush his collar, his strong jaw clean-shaven. Though not born into a family of wealth, Seth’s brilliant work as a philanthropist and tinkerer had elevated his status in society—one of the reasons the Cause found him so valuable. Where Seth was tall, dark, and lean, Victor was shorter and brawnier of build, his strong cheekbones framed by his well-trimmed blonde beard. As part of a family prominent in London society, Victor was more concerned with wealth, status, and power than the well-being of others.

  The two gentlemen glowered at one another, towering over Phoebe’s petite frame like two dogs fighting over their turf. Victor spoke first, his voice a growl. “I have not seen you at Viridis before, Mr. Elliott. I must confess to spending a fair amount of time here, as I’m never able to go very long without paying dear Phoebe a visit.”

  Seth smiled at Victor, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “It is true. I have only just returned from a trip abroad, though I consider myself lucky to be familiar with both Phoebe and her curious herbal, having had the pleasure of helping her with her endeavor.” Turning to Phoebe with a smile, he took her hand in his. “Indeed I do not think I’ll ever forget the effect that very first batch had on me— or you as I recall.”

  Phoebe blushed crimson at the memory. Indeed, it was that first batch that led to the discovery of the true effects of Viridis and the rumor amongst London society that the herbal could bring on an orgasm with a single kiss.

  When Gabriel waved her over, she was relieved to have an excuse to leave. Between the effects of the drink, the memories of Seth, and the two men hovering over her, it was all too much for her to handle.

  “I’m terribly sorry, but my brother is hailing me. If you will both excuse me, I do hope you will enjoy the rest of your evening.” Then without waiting for a response, she walked back to the bar on still-wobbly legs.

  “That was looking like a precarious situation you had gotten yourself into.” Gabriel gave her a crooked smile, making him all the more handsome, his dark curls bringing out the blue of his eyes.

  “I cannot thank you enough for your help. I think it has left me feeling a bit drained, though. I’m going to retire for the evening, if you think you can manage things here.”

  “You know that’s never a problem, love. Truth of the matter is, you have the place so well-staffed, it could run itself without either of us here. Your escape, however, might not be so easily made.” He motioned behind her with his chin.

  She turned just in time to see Seth approaching, her pulse becoming erratic as he neared.

  “Let me at least see you home, Phoebe.” The gentle pleading in his voice tore at her few remaining defenses.

  Victor stood where she’d left him, his thick arms folded across his chest, his mouth set into a thin line. But her attention strayed only for a moment— Seth was too close, his scent too familiar.

  Unable to resist him any longer, she gave Seth a nod of agreement, despite the fact that she could still feel Victor’s gaze upon her. She knew he was not a man she should anger, but she had never returned his advances, though he was always showing up at the club, bringing her small gifts. Perhaps this would finally make it clear that she had no interest in him romantically, even if she felt just a little guilty, wondering if she had inadvertently encouraged him in some way.

  Seth took her hand in his, his touch pulling her from her thoughts. He brought it to his lips before tucking it in the crook of his elbow, a smile on his face, his eyes dancing in the dim lamplight. Her pulse raced as she walked out of the room on his arm, hoping she would not later regret her decision, for even though she had not said a word, already she could feel her heart surrendering to him.

  Chapter Three

  Inspector William Thomas climbed the stone treads of the townhouse belonging to Lord Edward Hawthorne, his chest tightening with each step. This was always the hardest part of the job. Telling mothers and fathers they would never again see their sons, telling husbands they would never again hold their wives. Yet he would still have to pose his questions, and would still have to uncover their secrets, while the family attempted to deal with the shock of their loss.

  The brass knocker felt heavy and substantial in his gloved hand as he knocked. The cold of the metal crept through the leather, sending a chill down his spine.

  William had come directly from the scene of the murder, and it was still hours until dawn. Only the servants would be awake, stoking the fires and getting the cooking started. Under normal circumstances, the masters of the household would not rise for several more hours.

  It took some time before the footman answered the door. Though his clothing was rumpled and his hair stood on end, he was a tall, handsome young man. William had no doubt he was chosen for the position because of his height and good looks, just another vain show at maintaining one’s status in London society. It struck him as such an absurd extreme that the rich could worry about whether their footman was handsome enough, while the poor were left to wonder whether they’d survive another day. It was no wonder the Cause had taken hold like a fire in a dry summer field.

  The footman gave him a quick appraisal, his eyes lingering on the cut of his coat and the scuffs on his worn boots. “May I help you?” He couldn’t quite keep the disdain out of his voice. Though William had made the rank of inspector, he was still considered no better than a servant— a servant who should have been using the service entrance. It was only the time of day that had the footman biting back any retort.

  “I need to speak with Lord Hawthorne. It is of the utmost importance.” He handed the footman his calling card. “I will give him your card when he awakes, but he is a busy man. I recommend you schedule an appointment at his office if you have business with him.” The footman took a step back, getting ready to dismiss William.

  William raised a hand, his voice stern. “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you as an officer of the law. This cannot wait. Now, get him.”

  “Right, then.” The footman stepped aside to allow William entrance and then brusquely escorted him into the smaller front parlor.

  Left alone, William took in the fine décor and the feminine touch. It was well executed, effortlessly elegant without being overdone. Any one of the beautiful pieces on display would easily cost him more than a year’s pay.

  He did not have long to wait. Lord Hawthorne entered the room, and it shocked William to see a face so similar to the one that had coldly stared up at him in death.

  “Please. Have a seat, Inspector,” he smoothed his hair and cleared his throat. “I cannot imagine what business has brought you to my home at such an hour, but it must be of some importance or I would assume you would wait for a more appropriate time to call.” He paused and glanced to the footman. “Some tea, Lucas.”

  William gave a slight bow. “My Lord, you may want something a little stronger. Perhaps some brandy.” Lord Hawthorne’s eyes were clear and intelligent despite the early hour, but the blood drained from his face upon hearing William’s words.

  William sighed, his chest tight. “I’m sorry to be
the bearer of bad news, but I believe we just discovered the body of your son, Lord Niles Hawthorne.”

  Lord Hawthorne stumbled towards the closest seat, collapsing into it. “No. It cannot be. How can you be so sure? Surely you have made some terrible mistake.”

  “I’m very sorry. Of course, we will need you to come in and identify him, but I’m afraid there is enough of a resemblance between you and your son to leave little doubt. I wish it were not so.” William wished he could offer the man some comfort, but there was little he could do but give him some time to recover before asking the difficult questions. “Is there anyone who may have wished him harm?”

  Lucas entered the room with the brandy, but was dismissed with a wave of his master’s hand.

  “Allow me.” William poured a generous helping of brandy into a glass of cut crystal, and handed it to his Lordship.

  “No. There is no one of suspicion that comes to mind. Of course his life was his own, but there is nothing I can think of that would lead to his death. He was a good man. I cannot imagine him angering someone enough to make them want to take his life. A robbery. Surely that can be the only logical explanation.” He took in a breath, letting it out in a shudder. “He had his own quarters, not too far from the center of the city. He had wanted to be closer to his offices and his work as a solicitor.”

  William asked several more questions, but it was clear his lordship did not have any information, the shock of his son’s death too much for him to handle. With the addresses for both Niles’s home and work, William left Lord Hawthorne to the difficult task of breaking the news to his wife.

  Chapter Four

  Luckily the ride in Seth’s steam coach was a short one. With Seth manning the controls and traffic on the roads still heavy, it was easy to avoid any conversation and ignore the growing physical attraction between them.

  The steam coach was Seth’s own design; he’d never been one for a horse and buggy, and since he spent every spare moment on his tinkerings, it was no surprise he’d created a prototype for the coach. The extent of his ingenuity constantly amazed and surprised her, his abilities seemingly knowing no bounds.

  She still could not believe he had returned to her and was seated by her side. She could not help but gaze at his handsome profile, the street lamps casting him in mysterious shadows as he maneuvered through the streets.

  Phoebe’s family home, located in the desirable neighborhood of Berkeley Square, was one of the more modest on the street, especially for one belonging to the titled. Despite its small size, the elegant little house was still far too much for her to manage on her own while keeping up with her research and the club. She had recently hired a couple of servant girls to help deal with the upkeep, though they would be asleep this late at night.

  She let herself into the kitchen through the side entrance, and Seth followed close behind. Most guests would have been brought through the front door and into the sitting room, but this was Seth, and that type of formality was not needed.

  “Could I get you a cup of tea? Perhaps a bite to eat? I think there might be some meat and cheese in the frost box.�� At the sink, she busied herself with the kettle, not really waiting for his response. She could feel his intense gaze following her every move, sending her heart racing.

  When he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, she couldn’t help but lean back, her body seeking his. A shiver coursed through her as he nuzzled her neck, and she weakened at his touch. Each breath, each touch set her skin alight, the energy between them like that of a tropical lightning storm, her heart thundering in her chest. She wanted to blame it on the Viridis, but in her heart she knew that what they had between them was stronger than any herbal concoction she could ever hope to invent.

  “Phoebe, I love you.” The words were a murmur against her skin.

  He spun her into his arms and kissed her hard. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she was lost in him, in his touch. Everything else faded to black, his words crumbling the last of her defenses.

  Seth’s kisses never stopped as he lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs towards her bedroom. Cradled as she was against him, she could feel the power radiating from his muscular frame, and his scent, a unique combination of sage and spice, left her head swimming with memories of their nights together.

  Even in the dim light which had been left on for her, he knew his way— had carried her up these steps so many times before. He entered her room and closed the door behind him, the only light coming from a small fire in the fireplace, lending a golden glow to their surroundings.

  She was desperate for his touch, but Seth took his time freeing her from her voluminous garments, his slow pace only adding to her need. His kisses wandered down her neck, each one sending a shot of desire through her body as he unlaced her gown, letting it fall to the floor before freeing her of her petticoat.

  She stood there in just her corset, stockings and heels, feeling vulnerable and naked. Unable to resist any longer, she placed her hand on his chest, his muscles tensing in response, his need palpable. Seth’s arm encircled her waist, and he lowered his lips to the curve of her shoulder, the stubble on his face sending a shiver down her spine. She pressed against him, her head spinning as another wave of desire coursed through her body and she felt him struggle to keep his own hunger reined in.

  He removed the pins from her hair, letting her curls fall down her back while she pulled off his jacket, and then worked on the buttons of his vest and shirt with trembling fingers.

  Once she’d freed him of his shirt, she ran her hands down his chest. His skin was searing hot, his muscles hard as they contracted under her hand, and the months of separation slowly faded from her memory.

  When he spoke his words were ragged with need. “I missed you, Phoebe. With every fiber of my being, I missed you. I swear you were my only thought in that frigid isolation, the only thing that kept me going.”

  He, too, had been her only thought, but she did not want to think of that now. “We’re both here now. That’s all that matters.” She tilted her head up and he kissed her, lowering her onto the bed. Seth lifted her leg and flicked off her shoe, running his hand up the length of her thigh, teasingly close to the darkness between her legs, where she ached for him. He unhooked each stocking, slowly removing them, the tips of his fingers brushing down the length of her leg, making her gasp.

  Phoebe lay in nothing more than her corset. Seth knelt in front of her and her breath caught in her throat. He teasingly trailed kisses up her thigh, then to the small swell of belly that peeked out from under the stiff boning of her corset. Her name escaped his lips in a whisper against skin, and she was flooded with emotions, sensations, that she’d long since forgotten.

  His kisses lingered, teasing and nipping until he finally found his way to the slick heat between her thighs. Overwhelmed by sensation, she moaned in response, her fingers tangling in his hair, as the waves of pleasure built, one upon the other. He continued his exploration, finally driving her over that delicious edge, her body shuddering as the orgasm ripped through her, all the more intense because of the Viridis and their time apart.

  While she recovered, he undressed, and then slid in next to her, cradling her against him from behind. He pulled at the laces of her corset ever-slowly, kissing his way down her back, so that by the time he’d undone the lacings, she was ready for him again.

  Phoebe took control this time, tossing her corset aside and sliding her leg over to straddle him. She leaned down, kissing him, her loosened hair falling forward, as she slid back onto his hard length, gasping as he filled her, their bodies now one.

  She closed her eyes, losing herself in the moment, her body tight around him as she shifted her hips, pulling herself slowly up his length before working her way back down. Every nerve in her body was on fire, whether from the Viridis or the year she’d spent alone, she could not say. In that moment, the only thing she knew, she wanted, she needed, was Seth. He was her very
heart and soul, and she surrendered herself to him, and to her need.

  Seth sat up, covering her mouth with his, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her to him to deepen their coupling. She fought to keep from falling over the edge, needing to draw out the moment, to savor each touch. Trailing his kisses down her neck, he found his way to her nipples, taking each one in turn. She arched in response, closing her eyes and picking up her pace, as she struggled to keep herself sane, the sensations overwhelming.

  “Phoebe, look at me.” His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but she could hear the need in his words, mirroring her own. Her eyes opened drunkenly at his request, but when she bent her head, her mouth seeking his, he stopped her. “I need to see ye, love. I need to see ye look at me, so that I know it’s real and not just a dream.” She honored his request, looking into eyes she could drown herself in, her body locked around his as they shuddered in their finality and together plummeted off the edge and into light.

  ***

  Phoebe awoke next to Seth, his arm still wrapped around her waist, holding her to him even in sleep. Her lungs filled with his scent, stirring in her something she had desperately tried to ignore for the last fifteen months.

  She slid out from under his arm, unable to resist a look back at his slumbering form. By the gods, he was beautifully built— his face strong with neatly chiseled features, peaceful in sleep, his body long and lean. It was no wonder she had been unable to resist him, Viridis or no, though she knew it was not face nor body that had captured her heart. It had always been about his mind and his soul— he was her tinkerer.

  Tinkerers were not really much different than inventors of the past. However, the current misery surrounding the poor of London had sparked a renaissance of sorts as the tinkerers tried to change the world for the better using their creative abilities. The creations being produced were of a complexity never before seen, and though most tinkerers had ties to either the Cause or the government, particularly the Secret Service. Then there were others who tinkered for the sheer pleasure of creating something never before made. Like her father.