He collected the empty plates. “Back to the search, is it?”
She waggled her brows. “Unless you can think of a better way to pass the time?”
“Well…” He looked charmingly bashful. “I did complete the first draft of one of the souvenirs, if you’d like to see how it’s coming.”
Her eyes widened. “Machines come in drafts, like parliamentary speeches?”
“Do you… write many parliamentary speeches?”
“My sister Chloe does. I often practice with her. I can do the voices of all the lords.” She affected the Duke of Wellington’s accents. “‘Whilst marching from Portugal to a position which commands the approach to Madrid and the French forces, my officers have been diligently complying with—’”
Stephen applauded her impression, laughing as she threw her voice to different corners of the room. “Don’t let Reddington know you can emulate his hero. He’ll try to recruit you over to his side.”
“No, he won’t,” Elizabeth said darkly. “He had his chance. Now he will pay.”
Stephen glanced at her askance. “What chance? Reddington was one of your suitors?”
She pretended to vomit. “A love interest? Hardly. He wouldn’t offer me a cup of water if I were on fire. Now that makes both of us.”
“Then…”
“Oh, very well.” Her cheeks heated. “Years ago, before I realized Reddington’s true nature, I was captivated by the idea of participating in a reenactment. The real military would never allow a female soldier on the front lines, but ordinary civilians engaged in communal make-believe? That had the potential to be much more equitable.”
“I’m guessing it was not,” Stephen said dryly.
“I’d have had better luck applying to be Napoleon Bonaparte’s first-in-command,” she said bitterly, twirling her throwing knife.
“Reddington wouldn’t let you audition?”
“He was laughing too hard to even take the request seriously. I’ve never been good at backing down, so I persisted. When I finally convinced him I was serious, he called me several choice insults that proved there was nothing I could do to make him view me as a fellow human, much less a military equal.”
“His loss,” Stephen said firmly. “For what it’s worth, even if he had taken you aboard, it would not have worked out well for him. Withinthe week, his men would have been followingyou, rather than Reddington. And he would have deserved the defection.”
She smiled at the thought. “Then we both got lucky. I haven’t the time to be general of an army. Though the extra manpower once in a while might have aided our missions.” She brushed away the old memories and held out her hand. “Shall we go and see that souvenir?”
Stephen pulled her to her feet with ease, the bashfulness in his expression back in full force.
“This version of the machine is just a rough draft,” he warned her.
“You said so,” she agreed. “Yet my expectations are still high.”
“Don’t say that. It’s unnerving.”
“Sky high. Constellation high. Pearly gates high.”
“Good God.”
They bickered all the way to the Great Hall, where he led her to a tall wooden contraption… that looked remarkably like an unusually intricate guillotine.
“And which one of my siblings is this beauty custom designed for?” she inquired.
“It’s two for one. Marjorie and Adrian.” His cheeks pinked. “I hope it’s all right that I’ve first-named themin absentia. I wasn’t certain if Marjorie was still a Wynchester, or if Adrian had become one himself—”
Elizabeth waved this away. “Wynchesters are Wynchesters, regardless of their surnames. Besides, they’re not present to be taken aback by your impertinence, and wouldn’t be offended even if they were here. Tell me about your invention. What does it do?”
“You said they were artists, yes? Both of them? And that your sister in particular is prone to covering up her paintings until she’s ready for others to see them?”
“That’s right.” Elizabeth squinted at the guillotine. “I don’t remembermentioning a penchant for beheadings, but Marjorie can be surprisingly feisty when crossed.”
