“Good as new, she is,” the man said with a grunt as he stood and wiped his hands with a rag. “Replaced the broken cogs myself.”
Blackwell nodded. “Good man. I trust the roof is repaired?”
“Yessir, m’lord. I just finished oiling the hinges.”
Blackwell looked up as Lucy approached. He extended a hand to her as he flipped the carriage stairs down with one foot. “Do the same for the other double-seater,” he said to the mechanic as Lucy took his hand and climbed into the conveyance. “I want them both in working order at all times.”
“Yessir. And, m’lord?”
Blackwell turned back to the man as Lucy settled in and arranged her skirts. “Yes?”
“Mr. Charlesworth asked to use one o’ ’em later this afternoon. Didn’t say where he was goin’.”
Blackwell’s dark brows lowered in a fierce scowl as he climbed into the driver’s seat on Lucy’s right. “He is not to use anything in this garage. It is enough that he makes use of the stables.”
“Very good, m’lord.”
Lucy looked askance at Blackwell as he fired the motor to life and maneuvered the Traveler out of the large double doors and into the yard. Lucy was impressed. After the initial wind up, the engine settled into a low purr that allowed for comfortable conversation.
“Well, then,” she said to Blackwell, who handled the Traveler with practiced ease, “where are we headed?”
“We will first stop at the apothecary in town—I have a few items to retrieve, and I thought you might see if anything sparks your interest for Kate—and then we will visit four families.”
Lucy pulled the collar of her cloak up against her neck. “You said they are tenants. Have they been on the land for generations, then?”
“Yes.” Blackwell glanced at her and adjusted the heating mechanism.
She felt a warm surge of air against her feet, and the seat beneath them increased slightly in temperature until she was quite comfortable.
“Oh, that’s lovely. We can ride with the top down and still stay warm. The heated seats must be a new feature, yes? I thought I was abreast of recent developments. Daniel likes to remain informed, and he shares his knowledge of new gadgetry and conveniences with all and sundry.”
She thought she detected the hint of a twitch about Blackwell’s lips before he turned his attention back to the path in front of them.
“I do enjoy the fresh air,” he said as they left the front drive and began the twisting journey through the wooded miles between Blackwell Manor and town. “Unless the weather turns, we should be fine.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence as the Traveler carried them under the gnarled trees that served as a canopy for several miles. “Not nearly so intimidating in the daylight,” she murmured as she turned her gaze upward and detected patches of sky through the limbs.
“A sentiment that holds true for many things.”
She looked at his profile, catching her breath at the delicious contrast of his olive-toned skin against the black hair. “That is true. Although there is a certain allure to the mystery.”
He caught her eye with one brow raised. “You are one for adventure, then? You prefer danger to safety?”
“Mmm, no, but I do prefer the unique over the ordinary. Do you travel much?”
“Around Britain, a fair amount. But beyond the war, not much else. My mother took Marie and me to the Continent once when we were very young.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“I did. I haven’t thought of it until now.”
“I do so enjoy seeing how other people live. My home is full of things I’ve collected. My mother despairs of ever reclaiming the parlor for herself.” Lucy smiled at the thought of her family and made a mental note to telescribe her mother upon her return to Blackwell.
A slight breeze blew across the open body of the Traveler, carrying with it that familiar scent that belonged uniquely to the earl. She tipped the brim of her black top hat, angling it against the wind and tugging the tulle down just below her eyes. She shifted fractionally closer to him. Just to remain warm, of course.
Blackwell leaned forward to flip a switch on the front control panel, and Lucy placed a hand on his arm. “Oh, no, do not raise the top on my account.”
“You are certain?”
He left the switch alone and rested his hand on his thigh while steering the conveyance with his other. His broad shoulder subtly shielded hers, and she fought the urge to rest her head against him. “Most definitely,” she said. “I find I am rather enjoying the breeze.”
Miles was more than grateful Lucy didn’t want him to put the top of the Traveler into place. He was warmer than he’d ever been in his life at the feel of her arm just beneath his. The knowledge that he could shift his hand mere inches and place it comfortably on her knee had him considering loosening his tie and unbuttoning his collar. The lady was either incredibly brave or incredibly naïve.
They eventually wound their way out of the wooded tunnel and reached the outskirts of town, passing the airfield on their left.
“My brother’s ships.” Lucy pointed at two airships bearing the Pickett logo that were docked in place, awaiting passengers and cargo. Daniel’s fleet stood head and shoulders above his competitors. They were sleek in design, quick in travel, and plush enough to satisfy even the most discerning customer.
“He’s done well,” Miles said with a nod. “You must be very proud.”
“I am.” Lucy turned her face to his, her smile slipping. “He’s worked so hard. Too hard.”
“Sometimes it’s easier to remain busy,” he said quietly. “Too much thinking can be dangerous.”
“I want to fix him.” She turned her gaze back to the road, but to his gratification, she didn’t pull away physically.
“Unfortunately, some things cannot be fixed. Or they take an incredibly long time.”
“I can fix anything.” She smiled at him, holding his gaze with those incredibly blue eyes. “Well, perhaps not anything. Almost anything.”
He fought his own smile. Those muscles were rusty from disuse, and he was vaguely uncomfortable with it. Open up too much to this woman and he would find himself in a world of hurt. “Name something impressive you’ve been able to fix.”
“Hmm.” She tapped her lower lip with her fingertip. “I arranged a social for the Botanical Aid Society last year that fed and entertained nearly five hundred people.”
“You attended finishing school. I should hope you would be able to accomplish such a feat.”
“With only a twenty-four-hour notice.”
That gave him pause. “But the plans had already been laid, yes?”
“No. The organizer fled the country to avoid embezzlement charges. It was only after he was gone that we realized he not only had done nothing to prepare for the social but also had taken all of the money with him.”
“Well, then, I stand corrected. That is indeed an impressive accomplishment.”
“You, sir, are mocking me.”
“Not at all.”
“I should like to see you perform such a miracle.”
He snorted. “I would hire someone else to do it. Problem solved.”
“Yes. You would hire someone like me to do it. Doesn’t take much talent to hand over a fistful of cash.”
“I’m curious, Miss Pickett—I’ve heard through the rumor mill that you are quite well-known in scientific circles as an excellent researcher. I wonder why you wouldn’t list those accomplishments first before something more mundane. Ordinary.” He glanced at her and was surprised to see a slight flush to her cheeks.
“I do not like to boast.”
He laughed out loud, and it caught him entirely off guard.
Her answering expression spoke clearly of outrage, whether real or feigned he was uncertain. “I am mo
st modest!”
Miles attempted to rein in his mirth when he realized she was genuinely distressed. “You are modest,” he said as they made their way into the town’s center. “Modest about that which I would think you should be most boastful.”
He felt her gaze upon his face and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “What is it?”
“You’ve been engaging in the rumor mill about me?” One perfectly arched brow lifted.
He opened his mouth to sputter a litany of denials, then clamped it shut and gathered his thoughts. “I seek to know about those who spend time under my roof.” He pulled his emotional cloak firmly about himself. “Forewarned is forearmed.”
Her lips quirked into a smug smile, blast her, and she turned her gaze forward again. “If you were curious, you need only have asked.”
It was with no small amount of relief that Miles spied the apothecary shop and pulled the Traveler to the waiting spot near the front door. He secured the vehicle and helped her alight, his fingers tightening fractionally, unintentionally, on hers before releasing her hand.
The handful of people inside the shop monopolized the attention of the harried apothecary, and Lucy turned to the wares displayed on shelves along the back wall. “I believe I will purchase a few things while we’re here,” she said as he followed her.
He observed her closely as she read labels on bottles, tracing her finger along some and whispering to herself. She had lifted the veil on her top hat upon entering the shop, and her cheeks were becomingly pink from the cold outside air. Lightly running one finger underneath her nose, she sniffed and squinted at a small label while retrieving a white handkerchief from her cloak pocket. He shook his head. He was intrigued simply watching the woman wipe her nose.
He didn’t register the whispering coming from the corner until he noticed that Lucy’s attention was no longer on the shelves. She had turned to the pair—likely a mother and daughter—who cast furtive glances in his direction and then looked hastily away as he made eye contact with them.
“Did you have something you’d like to say?” Lucy said to the pair, her voice even and quiet.
“I beg your pardon?” the older woman said, her face darkening by degrees until she was decidedly blushing.
“It’s only that I heard you whispering about His Lordship, the Earl of Blackwell, and I wondered if you desired an introduction.”
Miles leaned casually against one shelf, his hands in his pockets, and watched a woman defend him for the first time in his life.
“I, well . . .” the woman stammered. The younger woman looked at Lucy with her mouth hanging open.
“I mean, he’s right here,” Lucy said. “And I’m a guest at Blackwell Manor—we are practically related. I would be more than happy to conduct the formalities.”
Lucy’s profile showed a pleasant expression, her mouth a genial smile. Her eyes, however, told a different story altogether. He wasn’t sure if it was the slight tightening at the corners that spoke of her true mood or the fact that she watched the women unblinking, boldly.
Silence stretched uncomfortably for one heartbeat, two, and then the woman found her voice. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t dream,” she murmured.
Lucy waved her hand. “It is no bother, truly, especially as you seem to be a woman of some quality and bearing. Upbringing.”
The younger woman swallowed visibly and nudged her companion, who threw a final look at Lucy, a mortified glance at him, and the two made their way past him and out of the shop.
“Can’t even manage a curtsey.” Lucy shook her head. “Must have been raised in a barn.”
“I didn’t hear what they were saying,” he admitted, feeling nearly as stunned now that the scene was over as the two women probably did.
“It doesn’t bear repeating. They were ignorance personified. Oh, look, I do believe it’s our turn.”
The apothecary approached and bobbed a quick bow. “Apologies, my lord, for the delay. I have the items you telescribed for, just behind the counter.”
“Excellent.” Miles glanced at Lucy—she had turned her attention back to the bottles lining the shelves—and followed the man to the front of the shop. Other people had entered, and a path cleared itself as the small crowd moved out of his way.
He was accustomed to it, had told himself early on that it was their deference to his title, but he knew the truth, and it somehow never got any easier. People avoided him because he was large, his expression was always fierce, and he had an ugly slash of a scar running down the entire side of his face. There was no hiding it. It was there for the world to see, and the world generally didn’t like it. The rumors that had circulated since Clara’s and Marie’s deaths had only intensified the degree to which people gawked and whispered.
Miles paid for the small box of medicines the apothecary handed him as Lucy approached the counter, a few bottles in hand.
“Do you happen to have any Burgmary in stock?” she asked as she placed her selections on the countertop and opened her reticule.
“Nay, miss, not today. I should have some next week. Would you like me to send you a message when it comes in?”
“That would be lovely.” Lucy gifted him with a smile that had the older man blushing. The apothecary busied himself wrapping Lucy’s purchases, stammering something about sending a message by telescribe to the Tesla Room at the manor.
Miles sucked in a breath and, with a slight shake of his head, turned from the counter, deciding to wait for her by the door. He was as affected by Lucy as the old man was. Any more charm from her and he’d be writing sickening sonnets and singing beneath her balcony. Which was actually quite near his own.
Blast.
It was definitely time to remove himself. He was drawn to her, and it did not bode well. For all that she seemed unafraid of him, gently flirted, even, she was not a woman with whom one dallied and then left on mutually good terms. She was a lady with polish, intelligence, grace, and wit. She was a happy person, content with her identity. He had no business finding himself attracted to her for any reason other than the most superficial, and nobody could fault him for that. She was beautiful.
She was also Daniel’s sister.
A woman in line behind Lucy glanced at him as he waited, and then made a comment to the gentleman standing next to her. Lucy completed her purchase, gave the couple behind her a quick remark in low tones that he couldn’t hear, and then made her way to him at the door. Deliberately placing her hand upon his arm, she thanked him warmly for holding the door open and stepped out of the apothecary shop.
Lucy fumed but hid it well. She knew she hid it well because she knew how to behave. It seemed the entire town of Coleshire lacked manners. It was true that she’d half believed the rumors about the Earl of Blackwell before she’d met him; she’d had no cause to believe otherwise. Claiming an acquaintance with him, however, had changed things.
People looked at him as though he were Beelzebub himself. The entire apothecary shop had stared and whispered, and he hadn’t heard a word of it. Either it didn’t bother him or he had grown so accustomed to it that he didn’t notice the rude behavior. The lot of you are ridiculous! she had wanted to shout. And cruel. The man needed a champion, even if he didn’t realize it.
Dark storm clouds gathered overhead. Blackwell handed her up into the Traveler and glanced over as he settled in beside her.
“Hand me the box,” she said and gestured to the package he’d purchased. “I’ll hold it for you.” He gave it to her, and she balanced it on her lap with her own bag. “It’s a good thing we stopped. I was able to buy some things to mix in a brew for Kate that Mr. Grafton doesn’t have in the greenhouse. What are your purchases for?”
As Blackwell started the Traveler’s engines, the first few drops of rain began to fall. With a slight frown, he flipped the switch for the convertible roof, and the partitions slid and
clicked into place like a large fan unfurling. It settled around the front and side windows, which Blackwell rolled up with the twist of a crank. In a matter of moments, the vehicle was secured.
“Two of the tenants we are visiting today have chronic illnesses that require medication. I try to visit at least twice a year to deliver it and see to their general welfare.” He seemed almost sheepish at the admission.
Her lips quirked. The Beast of Blackwell Manor was bashful. “That’s very magnanimous of you, my lord.”
He glanced at her as the vehicle warmed to a comfortable degree. “It surprises you.” He paused, his head slightly tipped. “It should.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m not surprised in the least.” Although she would have been a week ago.
“What is it, Miss Pickett, that sets you apart from the rest of the world?” He guided the vehicle away from the shop and down the road.
“In what manner?”
“Are you not afraid I murdered my wife? My sister?”
Well. That was certainly blunt. Lucy looked at his profile, which was clear and strong. Very much like the man himself, and she wondered if he would thank her for saying so. Throwing caution to the wind, she opted for the truth.
“You are not, at your core, as you would have people believe. You’ve been sorely misjudged, and you foster the harsh exterior as a means of self-preservation. You are an enigma, a contradiction.”
Blackwell’s expression was flat. “My, but you are a dramatic one.”
“Not in the least. You are abrupt and at times even rude, certainly to those for whom you have no patience, and you dare the world to mock you to your face. And yet you adored your sister, love your brother, and worry over the health of my cousin. You have taken every measure to be sure I am safe in your home. I believe I’ve mentioned it before, but I value my brother’s judgment. Daniel would not be associated with one who had it in him to murder in cold blood.”
Blackwell’s jaw clenched as he turned his attention back to the road. The raindrops fell more quickly, splattering on the front window and necessitating the use of the Traveler’s window-cleaning blades. “You do not know what I am capable of.”
Beauty and the Clockwork Beast Page 16