Peregrine approached the complex construction sitting atop the table and let out a low hiss of air.
“What is it?” asked Raven.
“Some sort of steam engine . . .” Peregrine tilted his head and leaned over to give it a sideways look. Puffs of vapor rose from its iron belly. “But unlike any other one I’ve ever seen.”
Raven started to circle around the table, followed by his brother.
Spotting a work area tucked into an alcove by the door, Charlotte left the boys to inspect the engine and moved into the shadows to have a look at the sheets of papers spread out on its counters.
The engine continued its snuffling huffs and puffs. Intrigued by the complex diagrams drawn on the papers—they looked to be technical plans—she leaned in for a closer study. There were also some drawings that looked to be exploring design ideas for the thingamabobs—she of course knew they were called paddle wheels—that would allow them to withstand the rigors of ocean travel. Her gaze moved to the margins of the paper, which were filled with very strange sketches, all appearing to experiment with an oddly shaped object with undulating curves.
Intrigued, Charlotte withdrew a small sketchbook and pencil from the hidden pocket in her gown....
The monstrous machine continued its chuffing and gurgling.
In the main room, Peregrine leaned in to touch one of the pistons—
“Avast there!” bellowed a voice from the doorway.
Peregrine spun around as a naval officer—a young midshipman who looked to be no older than he was—rushed into the room.
“You filthy little gutter rat!” cried the midshipman. “This is a restricted military area. How did you crawl in here?”
“I was invited,” answered Peregrine.
“You—a Blackamoor?” said the midshipman, eying Peregrine’s dusky skin. “Don’t make me laugh.”
Charlotte was about to intervene when Raven appeared from behind the table, with Hawk right on his heels.
“Oiy, oiy! Keep a civil tongue in your head when you speak to Lord Lampson!” Raven flexed a warning fist. “Or you’ll be digging your teeth out of your gullet.”
“Lord Lampson?” The midshipman allowed a momentary flicker of confusion before squaring his shoulders. “And who areyou? The Duke of Dirt?” he retorted, wrinkling his nose at the streak of sludge now running down the front of Raven’s jacket.
“No, he’s just the gutter rat who is going to make your fancy little uniform look like it’s been to the devil and back,” chirped Hawk as Raven took a challenging step closer to the midshipman.
The two of them were now nearly nose to nose. Charlotte moved to the alcove’s opening—
“Mr. Porter, is there something amiss?”
The midshipman stepped back and snapped a salute to Tilden, who was standing in the doorway.
“Intruders, sir!” he bellowed, trying to make his voice sound deeper than it really was.
Tilden smiled. “I fear there has been a misunderstanding. Lord Lampson and his friends are here by my invitation.”
Porter turned beet red. “I-I’m very sorry, sir,” he stammered. “I didn’t know—”
“No apologies necessary. Of course you didn’t, and your vigilance is to be commended.” A pause. “And Master Sloane, I applaud your loyalty to Peregrine. Friendship is a bond of honor that every gentleman should take seriously.”
Tilden entered the room. “So shake hands, lads, and crypax. There is no reason to be at odds with one another.”
Raven and Porter glowered at each other but reluctantly did as they were told.
“And now, we must all take our leave from this room. The engineers are about to come and turn up the boiler to full power for a test of our . . .” Tilden hesitated. “ . . of our prototype, and it is, alas, restricted to only the senior staff.”
Raven and Hawk dutifully moved for the door. Porter did the same.
And then came to a halt.
