She smiled. “For devouring heads? My goodness. Tell me, am I the subject of bedtime stories?”
Benedict took a step closer, drawing her against his body. The sound of her breath, the warmth of her smile, the slight crinkle of her eyes as she looked up at him—it was all he could do not to throw her over his shoulder and take her home. “You’re the subject of my bedtime stories.”
Her mouth parted. “Benedict, I—” She put a hand on his chest, right over the increasingthump, thump, thumpof his heart.
“Yes?”
“I think—that’s the worst line you’ve fed me yet.”
He grinned and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “It was worth trying.”
“We’re in public, Mr. Asterly. You must behave.” She stepped out of his arms, reminding him how formal her lot were. “But truly, I’m surprised to see Mr. Barnesworth out here, given how much you can’t stand the aristocracy. He’s the second son of Viscount Harrow, is he not?”
“Yes. But he has even less to do with thetonthan I do.” Benedict went to the corner of the room where they’d set up a small stove and put the kettle on to boil. When he looked up, Amelia was still staring out the door John had just left through.
“A pity, he looked as if he’d be a magnificent dancer. How did you meet?” she asked, turning back to him.
Benedict stuffed his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable talking about his intensely private friend. “We were at Eton together and then Oxford. When I left, he chose to leave with me, and together we established Asterly & Barnesworth.”
John had left Oxford because he couldn’t bear the thought of facing his peers without Benedict’s hulking frame behind him as protection. As bad as it had been for Benedict being the subject of scorn, John had had it worse. His speech impediment had made him the subject of extreme mockery—terms likeidiot,muttonhead, andsimpletonthrown around often. His father had all but disowned him. Despite his extraordinary intelligence, he’d come close to flunking out of school. It was no hard decision for him to leave.
Amelia cocked her head, as if she were about to launch into another thousand questions.
To distract her, he turned away and gestured to the room. “Well, what do you think?”
Hands on her hips, she did a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn, taking in every single scribble, book, tool. Finally, she faced him. “Honestly? It’s chaos.”
As soon as the words were out of Amelia’s mouth, Benedict’s face fell, and she realized this might have been a good moment for some fortifying flattery. And if she were a better person, she would tell him how impressive it—he—was and leave it at that.
But she wasn’t a better person, and a spade was a spade.
“It’s utter chaos. How do you find anything?” She moved to the center table where Mr. Barnesworth had different sketches laid out. Some of them sat on top of a long tally of numbers. Others were stacked over a written document in completely different handwriting—Benedict’s, by the look of it. Papers were held down by half-drunk cups of tea, a screw here, a lump of coal there.
“It may not look very organized—”
She raised both eyebrows with a don’t-even-think-of-trying-it look. “This stack of papers, something to do with your engine, I’m assuming—” She grabbed the list of numbers.
“They’re pressure test results.”
“Yes, well, it’s right next to a bottle of…” She sniffed it then held it as far away as she could.
He tried to grab the pressure tests out of her hands, but she pushed the bottle of foul-smelling liquid at him instead.
“That’s Fiona’s latest project. It’s really quite interesting.” He placed it back on the table with exaggerated care. “You should probably be careful with that. It’s highly flammable.”
The complete lack of organization boggled the mind. “Then it should be put to the side where it won’t be knocked over. Nothing is labeled!”
He crossed his arms. “We know where everything is.”
Before she could reply, they were interrupted by the entrance of a red-headed woman. In breeches. Who walked in without looking up from the notebook she was writing in. “Ben, have you seen my analysis of the latest incendiary tests? I’m trying to nail down the appropriate sulfur ratios.”
Benedict rolled his eyes “Fi, your timing is dreadful.”
Amelia couldn’t help but smile in triumph. They clearlydidn’tknow where everything was, and she wanted to hug this new woman for handing her the proof.
But the woman did not look like she wanted to be hugged. In fact, the look she gave Amelia was highly suspicious.
“Lady Amelia, Miss Fiona McTavish. Fi, this is my wife. I was telling her that our filing system is more than adequate for our needs.”
