Curses and Confetti Read online

  So much she had seen before—although she noted that the neat collection of tools that hung on the rear wall and on the shelves that lined it had grown.

  What really caught her eye was the large, tarpaulin-covered object in the middle of the workshop.

  “You’ve built it?” She turned and stared at Jed, shocked and regretful. It had taken his comment about the gypsy woman’s “emotional connection” to her Oracle machine to remember the emotional connection inventors had to their devices. Yes, wedding preparations and her own political commitments kept her busy, so busy that she’d been satisfied simply to steal courting time with Jed. Oh, she’d asked him about progress on the bounding-vehicle, but she should have come down and seen for herself. It had been two weeks since her last visit.

  So much for supporting Jed in his work! She was disgusted with herself.

  “Newton finished the framework for me a few days ago and I’ve been adding the propulsion system. I wanted it to be a surprise for you.” He stripped off his jacket and dropped it over the back of the armchair.

  She halted with her hand on the tarpaulin. “A surprise? Would you like me to leave?”

  “Don’t move a step.” He gripped the edge of the tarpaulin and folded it back, lifting it carefully from his invention. He folded the tarpaulin and dropped it in a corner.

  “Oh my giddy aunt. Jed.” She looked from the bounding-vehicle to its inventor. She could see his pride and he deserved every bit of it. “It’s marvelous.” She hugged him enthusiastically, then turned back to the vehicle. “Show me everything.”

  Of course she’d heard all about his ideas for the vehicle, the underlying principles and even studied its blueprints, but she hadn’t truly understood how elegant it would look.

  “I’ve called it ‘the Jumping Jack’.” He ran an affectionate hand along the frame.

  “Have you tested it yet?”

  “I have a couple of things to fix with the position of the flywheel and fitting a hand crank as well as the pedals to prime the propulsion system.”

  “It’s just beautiful.”

  The spare steel frame had a gentle angularity. Its shape reflected Jed’s study of kangaroo anatomy and movement. At the front were two small wheels, like the front paws that steadied a roo. They provided stability, cornering and braking ability, and were attached by steel shafts to the main body of the vehicle. This body was composed of a swing seat with the clockwork mechanism hidden beneath it and was strung between the powerful “hind legs” of the vehicle: two well-sprung legs that not only released power in the uncoil, but re-captured some of that energy each time the springs compressed on hitting the ground. A length of heavy, jointed steel hung from the rear of the body and served the same energy-capture purpose.

  “The tail will make all the difference,” Jed said. “I hadn’t even considered one until I watched kangaroos bounding. Something as heavy as their tails can’t simply be about balance or an evolutionary quirk. It must have a role in kinetic energy re-capture and in forward propulsion.”

  “May I sit in it?”

  “Just a tick.” He strode across to a cupboard, opened it and took out an armful of plump cushions.”

  Her heart warmed at this sign of thoughtfulness and preparation. For himself, she doubted he’d had bothered with cushioning for a test ride. The bright comfort was for her.

  “You are a darling.” She kissed him as he straightened from placing the cushions.

  “That pays the fare nicely.” He put his hands on her waist and lifted her into the swing chair.

  She scooted to the side and he stepped up beside her. The seat swung freely.

  He frowned. “Some people will get seasick.”

  “Not me. I have a sea captain for an uncle. I wouldn’t dare.”

  “I’m wondering if I might be able to weight the box holding the clockwork mechanism and flywheel and let it swing and gather kinetic energy while fixing the seat in place.”

  “An idea for the future,” she agreed absently, more intent on the sensation of sitting high and comfy and squashed close to him. She cuddled even closer.

  He laughed softly and put an arm around her shoulders. “If those doors weren’t open…”

  “Promises, promises.”

  “Temptress.” He leapt down, avoiding the pedals and lifted her down too. His hands lingered on her waist.

  She smiled up at him. “Jed, I do like your Jumping Jack.”

  He put an arm around her waist and they stood together contemplating the vehicle. “Even if it doesn’t work, it’s the best idea I ever had.”

  “Of course it’ll work.” She caught him up immediately.

  “Thank you, sweetheart, but I was trying to offer a compliment. Even if it never works, the Jumping Jack brought me here to study kangaroos, and so, by happy fate, to meet you. Ergo, it is my best idea ever.”

  “So it is.” She laughed suddenly. “And the world’s most surprising Cupid. If you hadn’t named it Jumping Jack, we could have called it Cupid’s Comet.”

  His appalled expression made her laugh harder than ever, till he stopped her with a kiss.

  “Hey, now, none of that.” Old Mr. Newton hobbled in. “You ain’t wedded the lass, yet.”

  “No, but Satan himself couldn’t stop me from doing so.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Miss Lee!” Jed woke with a shock, astonished to find the gypsy woman in his room. “What on earth are you—” He started to swing his legs out of bed before remembering his nudity. He hated nightshirts and the new-fangled notion of pajamas were even more restricting. However, at a time like this—he clutched the bed clothes to his waist. “Your room is across the hallway.”

  “I know.” In the glow of the candle she held, her face held a sly triumph.

  A cold shiver went up his spine. “I’m an engaged man.”

  “So you are.” She continued to advance toward him, setting the candle down on the bedside table.

  “Miss Lee, you must leave.”

  “Not yet.” Her hair was loose around her shoulders, mute testimony of abandon. She untied the belt of her robe and licked her lips, biting the lower one into plump, abused sultriness.

  “Get out.”

  She drew a deep breath. “Make me.”

  It went against every notion of chivalry and honor, but he threw back the bed clothes intent on doing just that—once he had his robe on.

  Her eyes widened at the sight of him. “You have no clothes on!”

  “What’s this? What’s this?” a beery, cheery voice demanded from the doorway. “Whoops! ’scuse me. Didn’t know there was a lady present.” Mr. Fenn, another boarder at the house, stood in the doorway.

  Jed shrugged into his robe. “Miss Lee was just leaving.”

  “So I see,” Mr. Fenn said with lascivious appreciation. “Didn’t know you had it in you, old boy.”

  “I did not invite Miss Lee to my room.” Jed glared at her.

  “Heh, heh. Still, you’re the one who prevailed on Mrs. Hall to let the girl a room, here. Convenient-like.”

  Jed picked Mr. Fenn up by the collar and slammed him against the doorframe. “Not convenient and not my doing. Miss Lee invited herself.” He hadn’t been amused to arrive at the boarding house this evening and find the gypsy woman ensconced, having used his name to secure a room. She’d told his landlady, Mrs. Hall, that Jed wanted her somewhere safe after the newspaper coverage of the Gypsy Curse. He’d decided it wasn’t worth the fuss of challenging the lie or dislodging her.

  My mistake, he thought grimly. Mr. Fenn’s insinuations were natural enough in the circumstances Miss Lee had contrived. She must have heard him enter the house and immediately set the scene. But why? The question he could answer later. For now, the issue was to contain this mess.

  “I don’t want to hear any mention of what you’ve seen here, Fenn.”

  The older man’s eyes bulged. He shook his head.

  Jed scowled and released him. The show of force probab
ly wouldn’t help. Give Fenn a beer and he’d be blabbing this story everywhere. He turned to Miss Lee. “If anyone asks, you were never in my room—and tomorrow you leave this house.”

  “She leaves this night!”

  Jed closed his eyes in frustration. “Mrs. Hall, this isn’t how it looks.”

  His landlady wasn’t listening. “I heard voices, but I never expected this, this orgy! I run a respectable house. I rent rooms to gentlemen. I made an exception for this…woman…as a special favor to you, Mr. Reeve, and now I discover…my goodness, does Esme know?”

  “There is nothing for Esme to know,” he gritted and mentally damned Mrs. Hall’s acute hearing. If she knew, there was no sweeping this manufactured debacle under the carpet.

  Miss Lee slipped past him and out onto the landing. “I’ll pack my bags.”

  “I’ll ask you to leave in the morning, too, Mr. Reeve. I feel sorely betrayed.”

  “So do I, Mrs. Hall.” He glared after the retreating gypsy. “So do I.”

  Jed thumped his bags down beside his workshop desk.

  Hell, what a mess. He stared out the window, lit by the thin light of early morning, and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew Esme would believe his version of events, but there was no denying Miss Lee had instigated a prime scandal. He groaned. And Grandma was here and wouldn’t be able to resist putting her oar in.

  When he got his hands on that gypsy, he would shake the truth out of her. Or he would if she were a man. Damn it all. The equal rights Esme fought for only went so far. He’d never lay a hand on a woman.

  He struck the desk with his fist. That scene in his bedroom had been premeditated, carefully calculated. Why on earth would a stranger want to make trouble between himself and Esme, or for them?

  The gossips were going to chatter themselves hoarse. Esme was a suffragette, an heiress and news.

  Dammittal. They’d probably make the papers.

  “Gypsy’s Curse Strikes Again. Betrothed Man Discovered Cavorting with Gypsy Woman. Society Appalled. More like titillated,” he muttered. There were plenty of spiteful, envious people who’d enjoy the thought of Esme suffering the scandal with him.

  He didn’t care about the scandal for himself, but he didn’t want her hurt. Unfortunately, when he’d appealed to Mrs. Hall’s better nature an hour ago, she’d said he should have thought of that before he “disgraced himself with that painted creature” under her roof and she’d thank him to pay his bill and leave.

  He’d left in a cloud of disapproval.

  The cuckoo clock on the desk marked the half hour with a trill. He’d been repairing it for Mrs. Hall. He’d have to remember to return it to her—by messenger boy.

  A quick check of his own Swiss timepiece showed the cuckoo was now accurate and the time late enough to be respectable. By the time he walked up to the Smith mansion, the family would be at breakfast.

  He grimaced. His news wouldn’t improve anyone’s appetite, but they’d better hear of the dawning scandal from him.

  Esme hesitated between a bifurcated cycling costume in heavy blue cotton or a demure spring gown in salmon pink with a white lace color and cuffs. She sighed and buttoned herself into the gown. Appearing downstairs this morning in bloomers would be wanton provocation. Breakfast would be the first meal she’d share with Mrs. Reeve since the old lady had slept through the dinner hour last night—proof that she’d been tired.

  Fingers crossed, yesterday’s unpleasantness had been inspired by exhaustion.

  Esme pinned her mother’s cameo at her throat for good luck, put her shoulders back and prepared to face her prospective in-law. She arrived in the hall at the same time Francis opened the door to Jed. “Good morning.” She smiled widely, relieved and pleased that he was here to help her deal with his grandmother.

  But he didn’t smile back.

  “What is it?”

  “I need to tell everyone.” He took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm, walking her to the dining room.

  The tension in his body transferred itself to her. He was holding her hand too tightly against him. She turned to him anxiously. “Jed?”

  “Jed!” Mrs. Reeve’s call rang down the stairs.

  He hesitated, dark eyes burning into Esme’s. “Remember, I love you, sweetheart.”

  He’d gone to answer his grandmother’s summons before Esme could think to hold him. Something was obviously badly wrong. She watched him escort Mrs. Reeve down the stairs. He held her arm and walking stick, and his head was bent towards her in a courtly fashion.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Reeve,” she greeted Jed’s grandmother when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I hope you slept well.”

  “Good morning. I always sleep well.” And more grudgingly. “I apologize for missing dinner, last night. The sandwiches by my bedside were a thoughtful gesture.”

  “Not at all,” Esme murmured meaninglessly, her mind on the puzzle of Jed’s behavior and his stern, almost austere, expression.

  Her father and uncle were already in the dining room and stood politely at the women’s entrance. Jed seated his grandmother, then walked to his own chair, touching Esme’s shoulder fleetingly as he passed.

  Breakfast was laid out in chafing dishes and Maud had out done herself, on her mettle to prove something to Mrs. Reeve. There was ham, bacon, three types of sausages, four types of egg, grilled tomatoes, buttered mushrooms, toast, soda bread, rolls, porridge and even that latest invention, muesli. Unfortunately, Esme’s appetite failed her. She watched Jed from under lowered lashes and saw the rigid set of his shoulders.

  “There’s something you all need to know.” He got up and closed the dining room door. “Last night the gypsy woman, Anabel Lee, gained herself a room at Mrs. Hall’s boarding house—where I’m staying,” he added for his grandmother’s benefit. “She did so by falsely claiming to Mrs. Hall that I asked the favor so as to keep her safe from any trouble arising from talk of a gypsy curse.”

  “She was scared,” Esme began with sympathy.

  Jed shook his head once, abruptly. “No. During the night I woke up to find her in my room. She was…in dishabille.”

  Uncle Henry whistled.

  “I remonstrated with her to leave and when she refused, I got out of bed to remove her myself. Unfortunately…” Color touched his cheekbones. “I don’t wear anything to sleep in.”

  Old Mrs. Reeve snorted. “Just like your grandpa. If I told him once, I told him a hundred times.”

  Jed’s gaze stayed steady on Esme’s. “At this inopportune time, another boarder, Mr. Fenn, arrived home from a night’s drinking. He saw me with Miss Lee and assumed…well, assumed precisely what she wanted him to think.”

  “That you were seducing her.” Esme’s father’s voice was low and hard. “A cheap tart whom you brought to my house, yesterday.” Blood infused his face and he put both powerful, calloused hands on the table, preparatory to rising

  “Easy, Aaron.” Uncle Henry waved him down with a fork. “Reeve isn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t have brought his doxie to meet Esme.”

  “Never. I was set up, but I dealt with Fenn.” Jed glanced down at his scarred knuckles, then back to Esme. “However, Mrs. Hall heard the noise we were making.”

  “And came up the stairs to investigate. She found you naked and Miss Lee in your room. Oh Jed.” Esme stretched her hand out to him.

  He gripped it. “I’m sorry.”

  “Doesn’t sound to be your fault.” Uncle Henry helped himself to more bacon and a grilled tomato.

  “The boy should wear a nightshirt and lock his door.” Mrs. Reeve thumped her walking stick for emphasis.

  “I did lock my door. It’s a cheap lock.”

  “What a darn scandal.” Aaron glowered at him, but stayed in his seat.

  “Father, it’s not Jed’s fault.”

  He transferred the glower to her. “Do you think anyone’s going to believe that?”

  “Maud!” Uncle Henry raised his voice to a ship captain�
�s bellow. “Maud!”

  The housekeeper came running. “Land sakes, Henry.” She put a hand to her heaving bosom, but the look of burning reproach she cast Jed’s way told everyone in the room that the scandal had reached her ears.

  “Jed did not seduce that horrible gypsy,” Esme said loudly. “She set him up.”

  “What for?” Maud gasped.

  Those seated at the table looked at one another in blank dismay.

  Jed nodded grimly. “Precisely my question. I don’t know how we’re going to refute this scandal because none of it makes sense. Why would the gypsy set me up?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’ll ignore it,” Esme said stoutly.

  “I don’t reckon as you’ll be able to do that,” Mrs. Reeve said. “There’s a time to stand by your man and a time to—”

  “Grandma!”

  “Lie low, I was going to say.”

  Esme’s chin went up. “I don’t hide from anything.”

  “Some of the old cats will be spiteful.” Maud twisted her apron. “I’m that sorry, Mr. Reeve, for even thinking…only I know Mrs. Hall isn’t one to exaggerate.”

  “And there is the problem.” Jed looked around the table. “Maud believed the scandal, and she knows me better than most people in the colony. No one is going to doubt that Mrs. Hall saw exactly what she assumes she saw. A seduction attempt.”

  “It’s going to be a rough ride,” Aaron said heavily. “You can challenge any man who says anything, but it’ll be my Esme who takes the brunt of it.”

  “False sympathy and sly giggles.” Mrs. Reeve nodded. “Women are the worst.” She spread strawberry jam on her toast. “It may help that I’m here. A grandmother is a respectable thing for any man to possess. You’d best parade me about town.”