The table between them was small, and she didn’t realise he’d reached across it until she felt his hand in her hair. “Tell me, Thea. Tell me the truth. Let me help you if I can...”
Breathless, she leaned toward him, her eyes drifting to his lips. But just in time, she caught herself up, and jerked backwards in her chair, pulling away from his touch, his gentle voice, and his seductive words.
“Silas,” she whispered hoarsely. “You are a dangerous man, and I don’t know if you fit here either.” In one smooth move, she finished her brandy, put the glass back on the table, and rose to her feet. “I must leave before this goes any further. Good night.”
Chapter Six
To say he slept poorly would be an understatement.
Silas had spent a miserable night, tossing and turning, visions of Thea appearing with annoying regularity and interrupting whatever rest he managed to claim. Even when he did sleep, she was there—bold as brass—in his coggleblasted dreams.
One look at her and his gears had forgotten their manners, and the more he looked, the more his pistons misfired as well.
Staring at himself as he shaved, he was appalled to see dark shadows beneath his eyes and a slump to his shoulders. This would never do.
“Rough night, sir?”
Nelson earned himself a glare as he passed his master a towel along with the question.
“I have a lot on my mind, if you must know. Any more trouble and my whole system will be kicked out of rhythm.”
“I see, sir.” Nelson, as always, betrayed no expression at all, but by St. Virellus, his intonation spoke volumes.
Silas decided that ignoring all the implied comments would be the most mature thing to do. “Do you have my clothes ready? I’m going to the Depot first thing to pick up little Gen’s Mama.”
“I did recall that, sir, yes. Suitable garments await on your bed.”
“Good.” He rinsed off the last of his shaving cream and stared at himself. He still looked a bit tired, but overall he thought he’d pass muster as a welcoming committee to the Undercroft.
“The young ladies are still asleep,” Nelson said. “Would you wish me to wake them before you leave?”
“I don’t think so.” Silas considered the matter as he fastened his shirt. “They had a long day yesterday. Especially little Gen. Let’s let them sleep for a while. That way they won’t have a long wait for Gen’s mother.” He grabbed his jacket. “A full breakfast, I think, Nelson. I’ll wager everyone will be hungry.”
“As you say, sir.” He trundled from the room, the model of efficiency as always.
It really was very early, Silas realised, as he left his house, quietly activating the gear locks in the front door behind him. The few people out and about were on their way to whatever the morning held for them, and disinclined to talk. So he walked along the lane toward the Depot, his mind turning over a variety of matters. None of them, of course, had anything at all to do with a certain unusual and lovely young woman, who was at present asleep in his guest room.
Lost in the variety of emotions that vision aroused, he damn near squeaked when a firm hand thumped him on the shoulder.
“What the devil are you doing up at this hour?”
“By all the saints, Hiram. You almost scared the breeches off me.” Hoping his heart would restart soon, Silas stared at his friend. “This is very early for you, you know.”
“I know.” He rolled his eyes. “But to be honest, I didn’t get much sleep. That coggleblasted Mistletoe machine is worrying me, and I spent half the night trying to decide what to do.”
“Look, I’m going to the Depot to pick up Gen’s mama. Walk with me, come back with me and have breakfast. After that, we might get a chance to sit down and go through your ideas, and maybe mix in a few of my own.”
Hiram considered the invitation, then shrugged. “I could manage breakfast, that’s for sure. And I wouldn’t mind seeing little Gen again. Not to mention that lovely lady who was accompanying her...” He waggled his eyebrows at Silas.
“Hmph.”
The clatter of the Trammelbuggy grew louder as they neared the Depot platform, and Silas drew out his pocket chronometer, watching the seconds tick like tiny hammer strikes. “Shouldn’t be long now,” he murmured.
And as if summoned, a light appeared and grew brighter as the vehicle neared its destination, and finally arrived with an ear-splitting squeal.
Hiram winced. “Someone hasn’t greased the track yet.”
Silas nodded, but his eyes were busy trying to find a woman who looked like she might be Gen’s mother. He’d asked Gen what she looked like last night, but her answer, although honest, hadn’t been helpful. “She looks like Mama.”
