“You are the one who is always telling me that innovation rarely follows a straight line,” pressed his friend. “So perhaps Maitland is right in implying that he’s a greater genius than Maudslay.”
“What does Cordelia think?” asked the earl. “You are about to be married, which is an even more important partnership than your business relationship.”
“She is dead set against the idea,” muttered Sheffield. “But if she doesn’t trust my judgment . . .” His jaw tightened. “What sort of way is that to begin a life together?”
How to answer?Sheffield and Cordelia’s relationship had been fraught with challenges. They each had vulnerabilities that stirred inner doubts. All their friends could see that they were perfect for each other. But the only thing that mattered was how they saw themselves.
“Disagreement doesn’t mean she doesn’t trust your judgment. Quite the contrary, in fact. She trusts that you will listen to her objections and that the two of you will come to a decision together.”
Sheffield’s expression turned mulish.
“I’m simply suggesting that you ask yourself hard questions before making a financial commitment, Kit. It’s an important decision for you and your future.” Acutely aware of not wanting to push his friend one way or the other, he added, “The fact that you are asking my opinion says to me that you are clearly uncertain of whether this feels right to you. Why not gather more empirical information on the subject? For a start, we can go upstairs and have a chat with Hedley, who understands the concept of steam power as well as anyone.”
A breeze wafted through the half-open window, and a shadow cast by the fluttering draperies hid his friend’s expression.
“All I’m saying is that it’s always best not to rush into a momentous decision,” he added. “So that it doesn’t blow up in your face.”
* * *
“Don’t wipe those sticky fingers on your breeches,” warned the dowager as she offered Hawk a napkin. “We don’t wish for the ladies and gentlemen strolling down Bond Street to think that you boys are wild savages.”
“We don’t?” sniggered Raven, which earned a chortle from Peregrine.
Alison arched her brows. “Would you like for me to purchase a bag of Pontefract cakes before we head to the parade grounds?”
“Yes!” Hawk, who was very fond of the sweetened licorice disks, nudged his brother. “Of course we would.”
“Well, then, I’m sure you’ll agree it’s important to both lookandbehave like proper gentlemen when we take our places to watch the military maneuvers.”
“Wrex says that being a proper gentleman is vastly overrated,” responded Raven, a saucy grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
“When you are his age, you may say the same thing.” Alison waggled her cane. “But until then—”
“Until then,” intoned Raven, “we must behave like boring little nitwits.”
The dowager stifled an unladylike snort. “I would be happy if you refrain from any unholy mischief—like throwing a stink bomb into the formation of cavalry horses and causing a stampede.”
Raven and Hawk exchanged guilty looks.
“Perhaps you should empty your pockets and have the serving maid dispose of any questionable items while I stop for the sweets,” ordered Alison.
The cakes duly purchased—with Raven volunteering to take charge of the bag—the four of them climbed into the dowager’s carriage, which was waiting outside the tea shop, and made the short journey to Whitehall Street. As they started to walk through the imposing entrance to the Admiralty buildings and the adjoining parade ground, Alison stopped short on spotting a young midshipman coming from the opposite direction.
“Horatio?”
The midshipman—it was Mr. Porter from the King’s Dockyard—looked up, his eyes widening in surprise.
“My dear boy—itisyou!” exclaimed Alison. “Come give your Auntie Peake a hug!”
Raven and Hawk exchanged astonished looks as Horatio gave them a sheepish grimace and then hurried to embrace the dowager.
“How is your mother?” inquired Alison, adding a fond pat to the boy’s cheek. “And your little sister?”
“Quite well, according to their last letter, Auntie Peake,” he replied.
“Horatio’s mother is my late husband’s grandniece by marriage,” explained the dowager to the boys. “Which makes us . . .” She gave an airy wave. “Oh, pish—it makes us family.” Another caress. “I didn’t realize you were here in London.”
“I only arrived a fortnight ago,” explained Horatio. “I was transferred from my ship to the King’s Dockyard in order to take advanced lessons in navigation and mathematics at the Royal Observatory. I am hoping to join one of the scientific expeditions that the navy undertakes to explore the fauna and flora in remote parts of the globe.”
