“And then it turned out the owners of Wylam Colliery offered to buy me out at triple what I paid after the test model ran so well. I considered holding the investment, but when I had a chat with Lady Charlotte’s good friend Lord Sterling about the future of steam, he made a very interesting proposal.”
With an owlish blink, the professor braced himself against the door molding. “Steam is a marvelous thing, is it not? A small steam engine would be enormously useful in turning the crank to my Computing Engine . . .”
“Quite marvelous,” agreed Sheffield. “As it turns out, Sterling and Mrs. Ashton have designed a new range of fabrics which are proving highly popular in the Netherlands and Prussia. Their mill is running at full capacity, so he suggested our company invest in building a second mill. What with Miss Winchester’s contacts in the shipping world and Miss Howe’s connections in America, I believe that as soon as this dratted war is over with our former colonies, we have the potential to open up a whole lucrative new market.”
Sheffield clasped his hands behind his back. “So, I sold half the shares in Puffing Billy—we can sell the rest at a later date, when they are even more valuable—and invested the funds with Sterling. Not only will we make money on the venture, but as you recall, Mrs. Ashton puts aside part of the mill’s profits for schooling and medical clinics for her workers, as well as generous bonuses.”
“Brilliant,” murmured Cordelia. “Absolutely brilliant.”
A tentative smile blossomed on Sheffield’s face. “You mean I actually did something right?”
* * *
As the others fell into a lively discussion of the new business revelations, Wrexford took Charlotte’s arm and led her to a quiet nook next to the professor’s Computing Engine.
“It’s been quite an evening of revelations,” he murmured.
The brass and steel machinery cast hard-edged shadows over the painted plaster wall, but the earl’s presence seemed to soften all the stark angles, his flesh-and-blood warmth dispelling the metallic chill within the cramped space. And yet she wished she could see his expression. Flitting swirls of darkness lingered around his face.
“Indeed,” she said, attempting to match his drawl. “Let us hope that mayhem and murder—” To her dismay, her voice trembled and died, the words sticking like knife blades in her throat.
Wrexford slowly turned to face her and set his hands on the jut of her shoulders. “Come, come, the danger is over, Lady Charlotte.”
But what about the next threat?
This was the second time she had witnessed the earl come within a hairsbreadth of death. The thought of ever facing such a horror again threatened to squeeze the very marrow from her bones.
She was dimly aware of sounds in the room . . . the gentle jostling as Woodbridge and Tyler linked arms with the professor and convinced him to return to his bed . . . the murmur of Sheffield and Cordelia in private conversation . . . the mingled sleep-soft breaths of boys and hound curled up in front of the fire....
But it was the skittery thump of her heart against her rib cage that filled her ears. Charlotte felt as if her chest might explode.
“Lady Charlotte?”
He sounded so very far away.
“Charlotte?”The whisper twined with her tangled hair.
She slid her hands inside his coat, her palms feeling the heat of his skin through the light layer of linen as she fumbled to draw him into her arms.
Thump, thump.
Wrexford went very still, save for a tiny pulsing beneath the left lapel of his coat.
A moment passed—or was it an hour? Charlotte tightened her hold.Be damned with abstractions.Let the minutes slip through her fingers. All that mattered was Wrexford was here.
And achingly, joyfully alive.
He shifted, his hands moving to frame her face and tilt it upward.
Candlelight flickered off the Engine’s brass rods, the muted gold sparks catching the curl of his lips as he said her name again. “Charlotte.”
“A-Alexander,” she murmured.
Silent laughter lit his eyes. “Are you sure that’s my given name? I think it may be Agamemnon.”
Charlotte smiled. “We’ve been over this before. I’m fairly certain it’s Alexander.”
“Hmmm.” His mouth feathered against her cheek. “Well, perhaps it’s time we settled the matter once and for all—”
