He heard footsteps, worked faster.
Light flooded the small hold.
A man’s voice said, “Well now, aren’t you a smart nit, got yourself free from the wall. Don’t know how you managed to do that, but no matter. It’s time to give it up.” A stranger, an older man with a seamed, sun-weathered face, his tangled dark hair threaded with white, leaned over him. “Now, lad, you won’t drown because you won’t feel a thing. You’ll just float away, forever.”
“But why? Who are you—”
A heavy bar came down on his head.
CHAPTER 2
PRESENT
Outside Westminster Palace
London
March 1842
Tuesday
For someone who didn’t know who he was, it didn’t seem to bother Alex. He sat at his ease on an ancient wooden bench on the bank of the Thames outside Westminster Palace, his head tilted back to enjoy the precious sunshine, always a blessed event in England. Because he wasn’t a dolt, an umbrella lay beside him on the bench next to his new hat and goat-leather gloves.
Alex smiled. He knew to his bones something was going to happen, something amazing. Although Ryder had said little, Alex knew he was excited too. It was hard, Ryder admitted, but Alex simply had to wait. He was vaguely aware of men’s voices, none of them close enough to make out their words, all he knew for sure was none of the men were Ryder. He hated waiting, knowing he would bring him news, but what exactly the news would be, he didn’t know. But he simplyknew it was something grand. He clung to Ryder’s words he’d overheard him saying to his wife, Sophie, before they’d come up to London.If this happens, it will change his life.
Change his life. Alex hummed with anticipation. He’d been Ryder’s secretary for a year, and wasn’t it strange he wasn’t including him in his meetings with other members of Commons? He’d always sit in a corner taking notes, listening, to get the men’s measure, to be discreet, charming and deferential. He was simply to watch these men and learn. And when he got bored, he could retreat into his brain and continue developing and cataloguing his ideas and design experiments for the train engine, and prepare prospectuses on costs to implement his ideas during the days and evenings when he wasn’t otherwise engaged. But for now he was to observe. Alex had been mildly excited to be in the bowels of English government, but he quickly learned very little was ever accomplished. The gentlemen consumed gallons of tea since anything stronger was frowned upon in these august halls, and they spent most of their time gossiping about their peers, their hunting prowess and their mistresses. Ryder had only laughed at this observation, confided business that meant anything was done in small groups over port at White’s. And Alex gave him his opinions of the various gentlemen, his estimate of the size of their brains and the thickness of their wallets and their level of willingness to side with Ryder on child labor laws.
It wasn’t that the House of Commons met every day or so, which meant Alex spent most evenings at Ryder’s club White’s, again listening, observing, and he learned more than he’d ever imagined watching the gentlemen gamble.
But this trip was different. He thrummed with anticipation, with hope. Upon their arrival at Portman Square, the home of the Sherbrooke townhouse, Ryder had taken him to his tailor, Mr. Smythe-Jumper on Savile Row, to refresh his wardrobe, emphasis on evening garb. “An excellent tailor isa gentleman’s best weapon,” Ryder told him. “That and a brain.” And he’d eyed Alex and nodded, buffeting his shoulder. “You are going to accomplish amazing things, Alex.”
A precise, crisp girl’s voice said from above him, smoothly and without pause, “You’re going to turn red soon, maybe blister your too-handsome face, which means you’re probably conceited, and would continue to be even though your face would be covered with nasty blisters. I will save you and hold my parasol over your face and thus you won’t be taken for a herring and thrown into a cooking pot, though that probably wouldn’t happen, not if ladies were around you, admiring you.”
Too-handsome face?Alex had opened his eyes during this very smooth and pause-free monologue and looked up at a girl with rich chestnut hair plaited on top of her head in thick braids, an unusual style, one he hadn’t seen before, but it suited her face. Her eyes were a clear hazel behind glasses that were sliding down her straight nose. She had a nice mouth currently grinning down at him like a sinner who’d filched the collection plate, and a stubborn chin, not at all dissimilar to his aunt Sophie’s. She wore small gold earrings with a sapphire set in each.
He smiled, a devastating smile, she noted, and worked hard to be unmoved by that smile. He said, his voice all lazy and smooth, “Thank you, but a red face would be a small price to pay for the warmth and the sunshine. A herring isn’t red, it’s silver with a green back.” He closed his eyes again just to see what she’d say next. He knew she wouldn’t simply walk away, not this girl.
She said, “I believe you’re quite wrong about herring, but I shall be magnanimous and let your incorrect observation float away, maybe swim away would be more apropos. My mother, who isn’t here because she’s in Heaven, always said it’s important to enjoy the sun when it makes a surprise visitsince it hates England and only comes out when Mother Nature forces it to.
“Since you look like a gentleman and speak like a gentleman, you should offer to hold the parasol over both of us.”
Alex cracked open an eye again, patted the seat next to him. “Forgive me for not standing up as a gentleman should, but the lovely sun has melted my bones and I find I cannot move. So please sit down and we can sun-bask together, no parasol needed—just yet. Perhaps you can tell me why ladies aren’t supposed to enjoy the sun on their faces.”
“I don’t understand it either, but it’s something my companion and maid, well, my best friend for years upon years, always insists on, says she doesn’t want me to look like a flower girl with a baked face, although I do love flowers.”
Alex saw a footman, young, dressed in gold and dark blue, standing some six feet behind the young lady, his expression both agonized and stoic.
Well, it was true the chit wasn’t behaving as a well-bred young lady should, speaking to him first, no introduction by an older very proper individual, and now she sat beside him, a perfect stranger in a rather plain day dress, arranging her dark gray skirts around her. Fortunately she wasn’t wearing so many crinolines that her skirts would either cover his legs or push him off the bench. He saw a stout black leather walking shoe sticking out. She wore a darker finely stitched blue pelisse over her gown. He said, “Where is your chaper-one? One usually doesn’t see young ladies near the seat of government except for the queen and that’s only once a year. Nor does one see ladies speaking to strange men without appropriate introductions, anywhere, for that matter.”
Like him, she raised her face to the brilliant sun, gave a low hum of pleasure, and said without looking at him, “Since there is no one about to call me a floozy and Henry my footman would never say a word, I’m free to do what I wish, well,within bounds, naturally. Besides, you look like a well-mannered gentleman wearing very nice clothes and thus supposedly safe to a young lady’s virtue. Since there is no one proper to give us an introduction, I will take matters into my own hands.” She looked at him now, gave him a big grin showing straight white teeth. “I wanted to see the blue of your eyes up close. There are so many different blue shades, quite remarkable really, a startling blue, a vivid blue I’ve never seen before. Mayhap they’re a wild blue like an animal might have in the wild. Actually, to be honest, your eyes highlight your too-handsome face. With those eyes, even with your dark hair, it’s impossible not to think of a pirate on the high seas, looking for prey.”
She finally stopped, took a breath. Alex was mesmerized. He had startling blue eyes? Wild? Well, all right, his eyes had been remarked upon before, frequently, actually, and always by girls who always seemed to be close. All he cared about was his eyes could see very nicely, thank you. A pirate? Too-handsome face?
“As to my virtue, if you annoy me, I will crook my finger and my footman Henry will rush over to trounce you—well, he would try, bless his heart. Although Henry would be fierce, I daresay I could take him down myself. Why are you here, all indolent like a lizard sitting on a rock? Shouldn’t you be at one of the gentlemen’s clubs drinking a lovely snifter of French brandy or perhaps reading Homer to improve your mind?”
CHAPTER 3
Alex eyed this mouthy young lady. “I’m waiting for my guardian. And you?”
