“Tilden! What the devil . . .” A military officer—this one an adult—was suddenly blocking the doorway. “Good God! Howdareyou allow any unauthorized visitors into this building! You of all people know that strangers are strictly forbidden.”
“I was merely giving the lads a tour of the lathes, Colonel Jarvis,” replied Tilden. “Lord Lampson’s late uncle was one of our most brilliant engineers at Royal Woolwich.” His brows gave a tiny waggle. “I hardly think their presence represents a threat.”
“That is formeto decide,” snapped Jarvis.
As Tilden drew the officer toward the alcove, Charlotte held herself very still, hoping not to be noticed.
“I regret the door was left open, Colonel,” said Tilden in a low voice. “But there is no harm done. They are mere children—they have no idea what they are seeing.”
Holding her breath, Charlotte carefully slipped her sketchbook back into her pocket.
Jarvis didn’t appear mollified. “You naval men run a damnably loose ship here. It’s a good thing Horse Guards sent me to be part of this project—
“Your expertise in engineering has been very welcome, sir,” said Tilden, “But I assure you, we have all the proper precautions in place.”
“Apparently you don’t, for I’ve just received a report of a possible breach in our security,” he growled. “Get your visitors out of here immediately. After I’ve checked the south doors, the guards and I will be making a thorough inspection of the entire building.”
As the colonel and Tilden continued to converse, Charlotte seized the opportunity to slip out of the alcove and into the shadows of the steam engine. A furtive glance showed that Tilden hadn’t noticed. But for an instant, she locked eyes with Jarvis.
And a chill ran down her spine.
The colonel, however, made no acknowledgment of her presence. He turned on his heel and marched off without further comment.
Tilden looked around and on spotting her lifted his shoulders in apology. “Jarvis is an awfully strict disciplinarian, but he is only doing his duty.” A sigh. “Come, we must do as he says.”
Suddenly aware that one of the boys was missing, he froze in mid-step. “Peregrine?”
“Here, sir!” The muffled voice rose up from behind the steam engine. “I—I think you should come look at this.”
Tilden hurried into the vaporous gloom. Charlotte signaled for the Weasels to stay where they were and followed.
“Two large bolts are lying here in the drip pan.” Peregrine then pointed to a large reinforcing plate on the boiler. “And it looks like they may have been removed from there.”
Crouching down, Tilden examined that section of machinery. “Ye gods,” he muttered. Charlotte watched as he ducked his head and felt around inside the array of levers and cylinders. “The piston rod . . .”
Tilden suddenly shot up to his feet. “Everybody out—and quickly. My men and I need to shut the engine down.”
As Charlotte whirled around to shepherd the boys out to the corridor, she heard what he added under his breath.
“Before the first full blast of steam blows it to smithereens.”
Once they were all out of the laboratory, Tilden’s call for assistance brought several men running to his aid. He drew them into a huddle and gave a series of orders that sent them rushing to tend to the engine.
After mopping his brow, he turned to her. “Forgive me, Lady Wrexford, but I’m afraid that we must defer the rest of our tour to a later date. Our head engineer had not quite finished replacing several parts, and the laboratory assistant mistakenly started the boiler.”
Tilden forced a smile. “No harm done thanks to Peregrine’s sharp eyes, but I wish to check that everything else in in order. So if you don’t mind . . .”
He beckoned to a man who had taken up a position by the laboratory’s closed door. “I’ll have our project manager escort you back to my office and then to your carriage.”
“Of course,” responded Charlotte, pretending to believe his explanation. “We mustn’t keep you from your work.”
However, she hadn’t missed the look on Tilden’s face as he bent down to examine the steam engine.
And she was quite certain that whatever was wrong, it was no mere accident.
CHAPTER 7
Wrexford shook the travel dust off his hat before setting it down on the entrance table. Anxious to return to Town as swiftly as possible, he had risen very early and taken a seat in the Royal Mail coach that passed through Oxford just before dawn.
