“I could be besotted too, you know,” complained Silas. “Would I be sweet too?”
Dorothea shook her head. “You’re astounding.”
He grinned. “I can live with that.”
She was silent for a moment as he offered her his arm. “Silas, your clothing speaks of someone who is familiar with some very impressive tailors. I could almost swear I saw that fabric some years ago at my brother’s favoured gentlemen’s clothier.”
He walked her out of the house and down the lane. “Sheer coincidence, I’m sure. It’s quite old. I seldom have chance to wear it.”
“Hmm.”
“Thea, I...”
His words were interrupted by the loud rumble of a trolley pushed by four strong fellows, all dressed in green.
“Oh, here they are,” said Dorothea, her face alight with excitement.
“Right then, lads. You know what to do...” Silas stepped back a little as the trolley grunted its way to a special spot where a festooned Trammelbuggy awaited.
With a few groans and muttered curses, the trolley was rolled from the platform onto the open car, and Silas held his hand out to Dorothea as they both stepped up behind it.
There was a loud blast from the Trammelbuggy horn, an equally loud cheer from the Forge workers, and they were off, clinging to the handrail behind them.
“Will this take us all the way up?” asked Dorothea. “I never could see how the machines ended up in Council Square.”
“It will,” he replied. “The Holly Maker probably went up a little while ago, and they’ll move it to make room for us when we arrive.”
“And the supplies are all there?”
“Should be.” He glanced at her. “Are you concerned, Thea? About what your parents’ reaction will be when they see youappearing from the depths of Arcvale in the company of a machine?”
She thought for a moment as the Trammelbuggy lumbered slowly upwards. “Concerned, no, not really. I can pretty much guarantee they will be shocked, and probably horrified, that a Renslow should actually mingle with those of lesser standing.”
Silas sighed. “Oh dear. That would be me?”
She leaned briefly against him. “You, sir, are the Forge-Marshal. I think you’re the one mingling with a lesser-standing citizen of Arcvale.”
He managed a grin, but Dorothea felt his distraction, and kept her silence, simply relishing the warmth she felt from standing next to him.
It was an inner warmth, she realised. He’d become so important in such a short time. Trying to imagine returning to Renslow House and her life prior to her Undercroft adventure? Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
She gulped down a shiver, knowing she’d have to face her family and somehow get them to understand who she really was. Not the sister, nor the daughter, they’d expected her to be, but the woman beneath all the society trappings. The woman she wanted to be.
And that presupposed they’d survive the shock of seeing Lady Dorothea Langley, only daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Renslow, emerging from the Undercroft on the platform holding the Mistletoe machine, and standing proudly beside the Forge-Marshal himself.
Yes, it was going to be an interesting morning. A very interesting morning.
Chapter Fifteen
The air grew cooler as they rose through Arcvale at a pace slow enough to let those gathered around the various depots wave and cheer their ascent.
Silas waved back, and so did Dorothea, but they spoke little, as each seemed busy with their own thoughts.
For him, the journey upward was a trip back into the past. And one he did not relish.
It seemed like a lifetime ago he’d stepped onto a platform and gone down to the sixth level, the Forge, and his new life.
He’d never expected to return, and until now, he hadn’t wanted to. Silas had left the sunlight of Arcvale behind some five years ago, of his own volition. But he could still hear the voices, the bitter fighting, the devastating moments that caught at his soul...
