“Did you make this?”
“Some of it. I had the rest done to my requirements. It is to scale and constructed of the same materials as any other engine.”
Her head angled this way and that while she studied it. “Does it work?”
“Yes. It is a simple design, such as those used to pump water out of mines.” He joined her and pointed to the various parts as he explained. “Fuel burns here. Steam forms here and moves these rods, or pistons, up and down. That makes the pump here work. Steam has tremendous power when compressed the way it would be when contained.”
“Which part is your invention?”
“It isn’t there.”
She took a step back and looked at him. “This is all fine and good, but do not expect me to be bedazzled to the point I forget what I have come to see.”
The row on the terrace echoed behind her terse words. He opened a drawer on the table and removed a tiny, metal cylinder. He set it down. “There it is, to scale for this engine in front of us. Here it is in more normal size.” He removed a much larger example and set it down too. “I was not attempting to keep it from you. I simply thought you should see the engine first.”
She lifted the small version. “What does it do?”
“It permits the emission of steam to be regulated more precisely than is currently possible, by mapping it. It is called an indicator.” He launched into an explanation of how it worked and the value it brought to engines. He rarely had the opportunity to explain the invention’s workings, so this chance led him deeply into his preoccupation with its potential.
He never lost sight of his audience, however. The lovely Miss Jameson claimed a slice of his mind. That portion of his awareness admired her face and form and admitted some regret that she had not accepted his proposal. It also took in her interest and attention, and how her brow puckered when she did not understand some point he made.
When she did not yawn after five minutes, he delved deeper into the mechanics of the improvement.
* * *
Kevin Radnor might never be enthralled by women, but this machine obviously captivated him mind and soul. She had demanded a viewing and an explanation, and he gave her one. At length. She would say her presence became secondary, except she could tell he added little asides for her benefit, lest she not comprehend his lesson.
Which she did. Mostly. At the least, he convinced her that the enterprise was not built on air. The peculiar piece of machinery he’d invented seemed capable of great things.
She kept one eye on him the whole time. Not that he noticed. She watched how talking about this endeavor enlivened him. She found that charming, and she experienced a kinship with him through it. She’d been just like this when she made her Richmond millinery shop a reality. Nothing else had mattered after she took the first step. She’d worked tirelessly to get it all done just right, and her first day of business had been one of triumph.
He had devoted himself to this invention. He had even proposed marriage because of it, to a most inappropriate woman. No one could say Kevin Radnor was not single-minded in his ambitions.
When his monologue finally waned, she jumped in before he found his second wind. “What is the enhancement you want to procure? How will it improve this?”
“It connects here and adds a valve that will allow pressure to also be read and mapped.”
She dared not ask how it would do that. If she did, she might be here all day. She strolled away from the table. “So it is indeed an enhancement, but not necessary.”
“Not essential, no.”
“I think that if you can’t settle that in the next month, we should move ahead on our own.”
Silence near the table. Utter stillness. He looked at the machine, not her. She braced herself for another row, one in which he mocked the opinion of a milliner on such important matters.
“We are in agreement,” he finally said. “You are more generous than I am. I think two weeks is enough. One more try at it, then turn away and give it up.”
He surprised her. From the way he looked at her, she suspected the reaction was mutual.
“To that end, I will go to France on Monday’s packet,” he said. “I’ll meet with the other party and see if that part can be salvaged.”
“France?” She suddenly felt light-headed. “Where in France does he live?”
“Paris.”
Paris.Minerva had said that Charles lived in Paris.
She forced restraint on her exploding excitement. “You will need me to sign documents if an agreement is reached.”
