The Lion and the Mouse: A Steampunk Romance Read online

  The first smile he’d ever seen flickered across her face, lighting it with fun. “It was very kind of you, but my sewing is abysmal. Now, if you want the sewing machine re-designed…”

  “You’re my woman,” he completed, then paused as the words echoed on the air.

  Their eyes locked. To the world, she was his woman. But they both knew that last night…

  “I’m sorry I fell asleep.” Anthea went completely red with embarrassment. “I haven’t slept well for the last few days.”

  “Since your uncle and I signed the marriage contract.”

  Her blush deepened. “Yesterday was quite exhausting. But I’ve never before fallen asleep at the dinner table. Thank you for carrying me to bed. It must have been very tiresome for you.”

  The experience had been many things, but not tiresome. Odd emotions had stirred in him as he’d carried her slight weight up the stairs and into her room. She’d been soft and vulnerable in her sleep, and entirely feminine. His own desire had surprised him. He’d wanted to crawl into the large bed with her and cuddle her warm, rose-scented body. Instead, he’d gone back downstairs to his study and with a large glass of whiskey, gone over his plans for combining Dirigible Journeys and Farleigh’s company.

  “Tiresome isn’t quite the word I’d use,” he said. “More like disconcerting.”

  Her head tilted in a silent question.

  “The duties of a husband, Mrs. Truitt. I’m finding there are challenges I’d never considered.”

  “I trust there are also compensations?”

  His eyes widened, a tad shocked at such daring. He wouldn’t have thought his little mouse would dare tease about the pleasures of the marriage bed. Then again, her cleaning ladies seemed to have instructed her quite graphically on the realities of life. She certainly understood that Looster was a lowlife.

  “I saw the paper this morning,” she continued.

  “Oh that.” He sunk back in the chair. The front page of the paper had gleefully announced the merging of their two companies, and included a tight-lipped comment from Looster. “Yes, that was definite compensation.” He looked hopefully at the teapot. “You know, I wouldn’t mind a cuppa.”

  She jumped up. “Of course. I’ll make a fresh pot.”

  In her working dress, a simple suit of heather tweed, she looked elegant if leanly curved. He enjoyed the sight of her bending to light the hot plate.

  “Mr. Truitt! Oh my goodness, Mr. Truitt.” Hague came crashing in, more out of breath than ever. “Sabotage.”

  “What?” Anthea abandoned her tea-making.

  A skinny red-haired engineer pushed Hague aside. “Someone tampered with the pressure gauge in Silver Streak, the private hire. Fixed the boiler, too. Damn thing exploded.”

  Colin exploded, too. Three paces and he gripped the engineer by his flight suit. “Where did it crash?”

  “Didn’t. Wouldn’t have known what had happened if the da-darned thing exploded, would I? Nah, nah. The failsafe ruptured. Sounded like the clap of doom. The secondary boiler landed us safely.”

  Colin knew of secondary boilers. But…“The failsafe?”

  “It wraps around the boiler and has a release that vents safely backward.”

  He swiveled to look at his wife, the source of the interjection.

  Her calm, explanatory voice faltered.

  “You designed it?”

  She nodded cautiously. “Safety is important. I like people to be safe. The failsafe channels the force of a boiler into a contained explosion. But who would sabotage an airship?”

  “Looster,” Colin growled. He scowled at Hague. “Who was onboard the ship?”

  “The Board of Directors for the Bank of Scotland. They were flying down from London.”

  Colin closed his eyes a moment. Such a tragedy could have ruined Dirigible Journeys. His eyes snapped open. “Hague, I want guards patrolling all Farleigh airfields. No one gets in without a pass and I want them to sign in. Send a message to Peter Helms. Tell him to do the same for Dirigible Journeys.” He stared at the engineer. “I’ll be out in ten minutes to inspect the damage.”

  The engineer departed on Hague’s heels.

  “Anthea, I owe you. Is your failsafe installed on all Farleigh Dirigibles? We’ll have to add it to those of Dirigible Journeys.”

  Shy pride flickered across her face.

  “And you’ll need a guard, too.”

  Her smile died. “Why?”

  “Because Looster is a bastard, and I look after my own.”

  “But…I’m not important to you. Lord Looster would have no reason to target me.”

  “I’ll arrange a guard. I don’t want you leaving the house without him.” The last order was thrown over his shoulder as he strode out the door.

  In hindsight, he really should have waited to get her promise.

  Chapter Five

  Having Colin look at her with such surprise and then to acknowledge himself in her debt, well, Anthea couldn’t deny it had pleased her. People generally didn’t recognize her efforts.

  What a shame he’d had to go and ruin the moment by ordering a guard for her.

  Hastily, she buckled her satchel and slung it over her shoulder. If she hurried, she could be away from the airfield before Colin thought to check on her whereabouts—though she suspected that even after her runaway effort yesterday, he wouldn’t dream that she might slip out. A mouse like her would be obedient.

  And so she would be, but first she needed to see Ivana at the toy shop before some nosey-parker guard was on duty and reporting back her every action to Colin.

  As she slipped through the office, the heightened buzz evidenced everyone’s interest in their new boss and in the report of sabotage. No one spared her a second glance. She unlocked her clockwork horse from its hitching rail and swung into the saddle. Like a bicycle, it operated initially by pedal power, but unlike a bicycle it also captured kinetic energy and stored it in a clockwork mechanism to be released on steep uphill grades. It was also a degree more comfortable and stable, possessing three wheels.

  She pedaled away with a rhythmic click-click-click, avoiding the main thoroughfares and winding through the maze of backstreets to the alley that led to the rear of the Toy Emporium. She unlatched the gate and wheeled the clockwork horse into the narrow yard. There she paused a moment to inhale the sweet spiciness of the garden. Ivana worked magic in the tired London soil. Her herbs were green with new spring growth.

  The back door of the shop opened.

  “Anthea, I was just making a pot of tea and saw you through the window.” Ivana smiled her welcome. “Come in.”

  They carried their cups of tea through to the front of the shop. Anthea sank onto a sturdy wooden chair and drank thirstily.

  “Congratulations on your marriage.”

  Anthea choked.

  A fleeting gleam of amusement lit Ivana’s blue eyes, before fading into concern. “I thought it might be like that. I asked some questions and your new husband has an acceptable reputation. Better than your uncle.”

  Anthea dabbed at a tea stain on her cuff. “That wouldn’t be hard.”

  They were old friends, school friends, and neither kept up a pretense with the other. Life wasn’t perfect. Together, they’d found ways to fight that fact.

  The Toy Emporium brimmed over with stuffed toys, china dolls and various games. Hoops were tied together with a big red ribbon in one corner. A cricket bat leaned on the shelf beside them. Teddy bears nodded over a picnic in the window display. To any man entering, this was a place where women indulged children. But to a woman who knew what to look for…

  Behind an array of dolls’ dresses hid a collection of household labor-saving devices. The time women of all classes stole for themselves from household duties could then be used for their own purposes: to study, to meet friends, to simply rest. And behind the counter, prudently out of sight, were other devices, gadgets of self-defense so that women no longer had to live in fear.

&nbs
p; No one questioned the steady clientele of women who entered the toy shop. But when the women emerged, they walked a little taller, a little more sure of themselves.

  Anthea understood cowardice. For her, it was a curse of nature. She’d been born timid. But for women who’d had fear beaten into them, there were solutions.

  It had been Ivana who’d suggested Anthea turn her inventive genius to the question of women’s protection. Neither Anthea nor she ever discussed the reason for her interest. Some griefs went too deep.

  “Uncle George rather sprang the marriage on me. I have the designs for the powder-puff sneeze ball here. It’s a one button operation, as you suggested, and I think the direction of the jet of powder has been improved. I’m sorry I won’t be able to make up a model myself. Colin has discovered my workroom at the airfield. Fortunately I was working on a propeller when he walked in.”

  “Has he forbidden you from visiting the airfield?” Ivana’s fair brows drew together in a severe frown.

  “No. But there was sabotage this morning. Lord Looster—”

  “That monster!”

  Anthea nodded. “Colin believes Looster was responsible for a boiler exploding. Fortunately the failsafe worked as I’d envisaged.”

  “You are clever, Thea.”

  “If the failsafe hadn’t been there, the dirigible would have crashed. All those men would have died.” She shivered.

  “Drink your tea,” her friend advised prosaically. Ivana folded the powder-puff designs. “I’ll have Maryann produce a dozen powder-puffs for sale.” Maryann was the widow of a toymaker who raised five children on the money she earned producing Anthea’s designs.

  “I mightn’t be able to visit for a while. Colin has decided I need a guard. He thinks Lord Looster isn’t to be trusted.” And maybe he thinks a guard will stop me running away again.

  “Do you have your acid daisy?”

  “Yes.” The high-powered jet of vinegar could temporarily blind a man…and definitely leave him cursing. Anthea found the idea of it gentler than the hidden stiletto Ivana carried.

  “A woman has to be able to look after herself,” her friend said tensely. “But a guard isn’t a bad idea.”

  Anthea hunched her shoulders. “I don’t like being followed around.”

  “You mean, you don’t like being noticed.”

  Anthea set her cup aside. She wasn’t in the mood for home truths. “I’ll phone you if I can’t make it to the shop in the next week.”

  “All right.” Ivana’s agreement was absent. She escorted Anthea back through to the yard. She didn’t say anything else till Anthea was wheeling the clockwork horse through the gate. “You know, it mightn’t be a bad thing if Colin Truitt notices you.”

  “What?” The gate knocked Anthea’s ankle as she turned with shocked clumsiness.

  “It’s about time someone noticed you and drummed a sense of your worth into you.” Ivana gave her a rare hug. “From what I’ve heard of Truitt, he’s a man who rates competence over flash. He’ll know how to value you—if you give him a chance.”

  “Where the hell have you been?” Colin wrenched the front door open before Anthea could touch the handle. He was larger than ever, looming on the step.

  “Having tea with a friend.”

  “Damn it. I told you that Looster couldn’t be trusted. I told you I was organizing a guard. Bruce!”

  “Here, boss.”

  “Well, get out of the way.” This, irritably, from Colin as he tried to usher Anthea into the house and found the guard blocking the entrance. “Make yourself useful. Stow this contraption somewhere.”

  “It’s my clockwork horse,” Anthea found her voice, annoyed at having her prized invention summarily dismissed. “And it needs to go somewhere out of the rain and fog. Its gears are delicate.”

  “So are my nerves,” Colin growled. He gave her elbow a little shake. “I don’t want you going anywhere without me—or Bruce. Have you met Bruce? Bruce! This is Mrs. Truitt.”

  “Pleased to meetcha, missus.” He touched his hat before pushing the clockwork horse around the corner of the townhouse.

  “If I might take your coat, madam?” Jones offered.

  “Thank you.”

  Colin stripped it from her and threw it at the butler. “And you can tell Mrs. Jones we’ll want tea in the drawing room. Well, I want tea. Mrs. Truitt has apparently had some.” He glowered at her.

  Anthea glanced at the clock. It was only four o’clock. “I thought you’d still be at work.”

  “I would be, if I hadn’t discovered you were missing. Again.”

  “Oh dear.” She subsided onto an overstuffed loveseat.

  Colin dropped down beside her.

  She bounced and settled thigh to thigh with him. Hurriedly, she shuffled a respectable distance between them.

  “Well?” he said ominously.

  “Pardon?” She blinked.

  “Who…did…you…have…tea…with?”

  “Ivana. We’ve been friends since schooldays. She owns a toy shop.”

  The tension went out of him.

  It was odd, how sitting so close to him, she felt his relaxation. It silenced her uncharacteristic babble.

  “I should have guessed you’d want to talk with one of your girlfriends. It’s what women do.”

  “And you’re an expert on women?” She blushed at her sudden sharpness, glad to have Mrs. Jones enter behind a rattling tea trolley. “Thank you. That all looks lovely.”

  There were sandwiches and three kinds of cake, scones with jam, and cream whipped to a cloud in a bowl.

  Colin waited till the door closed behind the cook. “No, I’m not an expert on women. I’m no ladies man.” He regarded her straightly as she handed him a cup of steaming tea. “I’m the faithful type, too, if you’re wondering.”

  “I wasn’t.” She reached for a scone at random and slathered it in cream. Anything to avoid looking at him and thinking of the marriage bed.

  “You’re nervous. So am I.”

  She stared at him, cream moustaching her upper lip. She swallowed and licked away the cream.

  “I didn’t give much thought to who I was marrying and I’m ashamed to admit it. But however it came about, we’re man and wife now, and that means something. Our futures are joined. I was only thinking in terms of business mergers, but there’s more to it. You’ll bear my children.”

  She dropped the half-eaten scone.

  “Oh dear.” She wiped ineffectually at the mess in her lap.

  “Anthea, look at me.” And when she did, helplessly, reading the determination in his face, he continued. “Our marriage may have begun strangely, but on my honor, it will be a real one. You can trust me. And I hope I can trust you. Will you give me your loyalty, wife?”

  He was asking for everything, far more than just her inheritance.

  “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.

  Chapter Six

  Colin ate dinner absently, uncaring of the time Mrs. Jones had spent laboring to prepare a meal fit for a new bride and groom. He was far more concerned with the unexpected facets of character his shy bride was displaying.

  What did she mean, she didn’t know if she could be loyal to him?

  He’d been so stunned at her failure to capitulate to his demands, that she’d escaped upstairs to change her cake-marked clothes while he remained sitting like a halfwit.

  Now he waited till Jones had cleared the main meal and served the dessert, an extravagant trifle, then leaned forward.

  “Why can’t you give me your loyalty, wife? Are you committed to some other man?”

  Her eyes met his in quick, shocked denial.

  The dread in his stomach lessened. He served himself an extra spoonful of trifle and topped up Anthea’s bowl.

  “I’m not that hungry,” she said.

  “You could do with some more meat on you.”

  “I’m naturally slender.” A trace of hauteur sharpened her low voice.

  He grinne
d. “Never mind. I’m discovering I quite like skinny women.”

  Her eyes rounded.

  Did no one ever flirt with her?

  The mild teasing overset her and she paid strict attention to her dessert.

  He ate his own with renewed enthusiasm. “I suspect you’re one who believes loyalty must be earned. I’ll have to prove to you that I’m worth trusting.” The challenge pleased him. “What would you like to do this evening? We could go to the theatre?”

  “Would Bruce accompany us?”

  “No.” He frowned. “When I’m with you, that’s protection enough.”

  A small smile played around her mouth.

  “Mrs. Truitt, did you just taunt my masculine ego?”

  The smile glimmered in her eyes. “Perhaps.”

  “Then I shall decide the evening’s entertainment. We’ll stay home and I’ll wind up the phonograph. Does that suit you?”

  “That sounds lovely. It’s foggy out.”

  He nodded. The fog had pressed against his bedroom window before he’d drawn the heavy drapes. But here in the house, all was warm and snug. Gas lighting gave the evening a pleasant glow.

  Or maybe that glow came from having someone to share the evening with?

  A fire crackled in the drawing room hearth. Anthea sat in a comfortable armchair, a feminine twin to the leather wingback chair drawn up to the flames. She watched Colin cross to a walnut cabinet and lift the phonograph from it.

  His dinner jacket emphasized his powerful frame and the flex of his shoulders as he straightened. His face settled in its customary serious lines as he shuffled through wax recordings. He selected one, fitted it to the phonograph and cranked the handle.

  The notes of the Blue Danube floated on the air.

  “May I have this dance?”

  His invitation shocked her. She’d settled in for a quiet evening, hoping to observe him as he forgot her presence. Instead, he wanted to make her the center of his attention. Ivana’s advice whispered to her. Let him learn who you are.

  She knew she’d displeased him with her refusal to give him her loyalty. It just felt so final, a surrender of her private self which she’d protected carefully for years. Accepting his invitation to dance would be a politic gesture. “I would like that, Mr. Truitt.”