“They told me they were leaving,” he answered with a shake of his head. “Kate rarely stays away long from her troupe. And Alice doesn’t like to be apart from Roland more than a few nights.”
“So it is just us?”
He nodded. “I thought it might be fun to see the sights of London. I’ve been too preoccupied since I gained the title to visit anywhere. You know the city far better than I. Where would you be going today if you could choose anywhere you wished to go?”
What an enticing idea. “Anywhere?”
“Besides shopping.” He shuddered in distaste.
Willa knew exactly where she wanted to go. “Weeks Mechanical Museum. Have you heard of it?”
His eyes lit with interest and surprise. “I have, but I haven’t been there.”
“Neither have I, but I so wished to go. Father wouldn’t let me. He said such things were not suitable for a lady. I’ve heard there is a huge spider there that moves as if it is alive. They call it a tarantula.”
“I don’t know if Weeks is the sort of a place for a lady,” Matt said doubtfully, stating exactly what her father would have declared, before he added, “But it might be a perfect place for a duchess.”
Willa wanted to throw her arms around him in delight—and she almost did but stopped herself in time. It would have been too familiar. Too bold.
But, oh, she wished she could let him know how happy he had just made her.
She practically danced as she finished her toilette. She hurriedly poked pins in her braided and heavy hair and expected her bonnet to keep it all in place. She grabbed her gloves and a shawl. It was going to be another lovely autumn day and she was anxious for the adventure.
Matt opened the bedroom door, allowing her to pass through first. Annie waited in the hall, and her anxious expression gave way to a smile when Willa made an appearance. “You look very fine this morning, Your Grace,” she said to Willa.
“We are going to Weeks, Annie.” Willa didn’t know if Annie knew about the museum. Still, she had to tell someone. She liked saying it aloud. Finally, she could indulge her curiosity. Perhaps being married wasn’t such a terrible thing.
“I pray you have a good day, Your Grace.”
“We will, Annie,” Matt said. “If we are back late, don’t wait up.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” There was a happy note in the maid’s voice.
Weeks waseverythingWilla had imagined. The mechanical tarantula that had been described to her numerous times was as frightening and fascinating as everyone claimed. And to believe there were real creatures like it—?
She soon learned that her husband’s scholarly pursuits had included a smattering of all topics. He liked history, literature, and the sciences. The mechanics of the different creations interested him. He and other gentlemen visiting the museum began speculating about the workings of the wheels and levers. They tried to poke their noses around corners to see exactly what was going on.
The spider aside, Willa’s favorite exhibit was a lovely swan swimming on a lake of glass and silver. The look in the bird’s glass eye was lifelike.
As music played, the elegant swan moved its head left and right. Occasionally, it would stop and pause as if spying a fish in the water. Then it would actually bend its neck as if pretending to catch and swallow its dinner.
Afterward, because the day was still lovely, Matt and Willa walked down the street, enjoying the afternoon sun.
“Weeks was a grand adventure,” Willa enthused. “Although I don’t understand how they designed that one automaton”—one of the new words she had learned that afternoon—“of a lady blowing a horn.”
“That was interesting,” Matt agreed, however before he could say more, something ahead of them caught his eye. A crowd of children were gathered under the eaves of a house. A small girl was crying and the others were arguing loudly among themselves.
Matt moved ahead, Willa following.
“What is the matter?” he asked the crying child. She pointed up to the gutter where a black kitten with white feet clung precariously for its dear life. His frantic mews were heart-rending. He tried to pull himself up but lacked the strength.
A boy next to the girl said, “I told her we must let him fall. Cats have nine lives. Boots won’t be hurt.”
Willa could beg to differ. The drop was over two floors. She didn’t see how such a wee kitten could survive.
“How did Boots end up there?” Willa asked.
“He climbed the tree,” one of the other children said. “He’s too afraid to go back.” The tree was a horse chestnut whose limbs were close to the house. The kitten had apparently jumped to the gutter. For what purpose, no one knew.
