Brilliant Devices (16 page)

“And if it hits its target,” Andrew said slowly, “death is unavoidable, considering its size. You could conceivably drop a bear in one shot with one of these, could you not?” He took the projectile gingerly, examined it, then handed it to Tigg. “Was there any—Tigg, what are you doing? That is not yours.”

For Tigg had picked up his unused butter knife and
had begun removing the screws holding the engine in place. His fingers were nimble, his actions precise, and before the count could say yea or nay, the tiny engine had been removed and an even tinier compartment revealed in the body of the projectile.

Yellow liquid drained out, and in less than a second, a slender plume of smoke rose as it ate its way through the bottom half of the casing and into the mahogany dining table. The countess gasped as Tigg pushed away from the table so hard he knocked his chair over. Andrew grabbed the heavy porcelain gravy boat and caught the dribble of acid when it ate its way through to the underside. Sinking into the gravy, the liquid seemed to extinguish itself.

“Mr. Andersen,” the countess called in a voice that did not resemble her own, “remove the gravy, if you please, and return with a ceramic container and some gloves.”

“
Looks like an effective way to get rid of the evidence,” Alice said, her gaze locked on the hole in the table. “Can’t imagine there’d be many survivors, either, and the body’s liquids would neutralize it.”

“Fiendish device,” the earl snarled. The countess had already hustled Willie over to the window seat
, half a sausage still in his chubby hand.

The count snapped something in Prussian to his aides, and when the chief steward returned with a freshly scrubbed thunder mug, they waited until what was left of the projectile had been deposited within, and removed the damaged leaf from the table.

“Tigg, the engine, too,” Claire said. “There might be traces of acid left on it.”

“There’s summat here, Lady. Lemme get a good squint at it.” He carried the engine casing over to the window of the salon.

“Tigg, I must insist—”

He looked up. “Lady, wot’s
M-A-M-W spell?”

Maggie made a face. “Nuffink.”

Lizzie nudged her. “Wot, you know all the words in the world now?”

“No, but I know that ent one
, unless you got a mouth full o’ toffee.”

“Maggie is quite correct,”
Claire said, cautiously examining the interior of the tiny engine’s housing. “It is not a word. These are initials, most likely indicating the maker.”

“Perhaps if we discover who made this
so small engine,” Count von Zeppelin said grimly, “we may discover who tried to assassinate me.”

*

Andrew had never passed a more uncomfortable hour in all his life. It was worse even than sitting the board examinations for the Royal Society of Engineers—at least there, he had been prepared and had a good idea of what to say once he took his seat opposite his examiners.

With women, one never knew what to do—and when one did something, it was inevitably wrong.

He had wanted to apologize profusely last night, there in the
Margrethe
’s huge shadow, for his ungentlemanly conduct. He didn’t know what he expected from Alice upon being kissed—a modest shrug, a chummy laugh at his stupidity, a return to their cordiality—but it wasn’t what he got.

Alice’s lips had parted in surprise, and then she had melted in his arms—for about five seconds. Then she’d come to herself with a shocked noise in her throat, pushed away, and fled into the dark so fast that by the time he’d emerged into the light of the mooring mast, he could no longer see her.

Or apologize.

Or figure out what on earth was the matter with him for treating her in such a fashion.

Because was he not promised to Claire—in his heart at least, if not in words acknowledged on both sides? What madness had seized kss ze= him and compelled him to kiss a woman whom he respected as a fellow engineer and liked immensely as a person? Because such a stupid move was bound to shatter both respect and liking on her side. If she and Claire should happen to exchange confidences, then the jig was well and truly up, because he would not blame either of them in the least for giving him the air and sending him on his sorry way.

Stop lying to yourself, man. You know why you kissed her.

No. He was not that much of a cad.

You kissed Alice because Ian Hollys kissed Claire.

He hadn’t. That was ridiculous.

It was a jealousy kiss. And you used your friend
poorly.

Oh,
sweet mercy.

If he could have flung himself down the gangway and never come back, he would have. But no. He had to sit at this breakfast table and smile and smile, and be a
villain—and see her opposite, pale and having clearly spent a sleepless night on his account.

He could not meet her eyes. The fact that she could not meet his, either, was almost a relief.

Claire handed the projectile’s engine casing to the count, who pocketed it. “Here is what I propose,” he said. “John, you and Davina plan to lift this morning, taking Lady Claire and Mr. Malvern along with you to the mine?”

“We do,” his lordship said.

“I’m going that way, too,” Alice said quietly. “I got a lead on my pa last night from a man who used to know my ma. He says pa might’ve been working the cargo ships up there, so I’m going to see where that takes me.”

“Excellent.” Count von Zeppelin nodded briskly. “I will leave an officer and six men here to make inquiries while I go also to the mine. I believe our discussions at Government House may bear fruit, but they need more in the way of tending, do you not agree, John?”

What discussions? Andrew would give a good deal to know what the two nobles had to talk about besides the merits of efficient flight, but that was none of his business.

“So we shall be a flotilla, then?” Claire asked with a smile. “An impressive sight, to be sure. One almost wishes one could watch from the ground.”

“I don’t.” Davina adjusted Willie’s sailor collar gently, and touched his cheek. “The sooner we lift, the happier I shall be.”

“One thing, though,” Alice said diffidently. “I’m going to need a navigator. The
automatons are all very well, but they don’t read charts.”

“I do.” Jake lifted his head like a pointer scenting a pheasant. “I’ll go
wiv you.”

“Me too,” Tigg said. “You’ll need someone in the engine compartment who ’as a foggy clue about ’ow to work the Lady’s power cell. And since you ent got a replacement steam engine
yet, that would be me.”

“Power cell?” The count’s hawklike gaze stooped upon Tigg, who took a breath and bore up brav k bop>

“Aye,” he said. “It got kidnapped ’ere by—” Claire cleared her throat and Tigg changed course without missing a beat. “—by mischance and we put it in the
Stalwart Lass
when ’er engine burned up in midair.”

It was fortunate the count did not wear a monocle, for it would have fallen out when his eyebrows rose under his cap
in astonishment. “
Was sagst du?
How extraordinary. You must tell me this adventure sometime soon. Tonight at dinner, perhaps.”

“Dinner in midair?” Maggie asked. “’Ow we gonna get from one ship to another?”

“The Firstwater mine is not far, as the crow flies, Maggie,” Davina said with a smile. “If we leave before noon, we shall reach it by sunset, even with the days as short as they are now.”

The count glanced over his shoulder, and one of his aides sprang to his side. Andrew didn’t know much Prussian, but it seemed he was giving instructions for the dinner party. He suppressed a sigh. Once again, it seemed, he would have to face Alice across a table. He must resolve this, and sooner rather than later.

As soon as he figured out how.

“Master Tigg,” Lord Dunsmuir said, “are you prepared to abandon your post so soon?”

“My … post, sir?” Tigg looked from his lordship to Alice in some confusion.

“I believe you were to sign on as midshipman to the
Lady Lucy
, Tigg,” Claire said gently. “Have you changed your mind?”

“No, I ent … but Lady,
Alice needs me. Four could’ve ’elped, but ’e ’s an engine housing now.”

“I would not
shanghai you if you have a prior commitment, Tigg,” Alice said. “I’ll manage with Jake.”

Andrew could not imagine
her flying the
Lass
with fewer than three in her crew. This was absurd. “I will go as chief engineer,” he blurted. “I know that cell as well as Tigg, and you cannot fly with so few. Besides, we have already been attacked once. Each ship should have someone aboard who can fire a gun.”

“That would be us,” Lizzie announced. “If the Lady makes us some capsaiceous bombs, we can take ’em with us.”

Alice had gone as white as the damask tablecloth. “The girls will help me, Mr. Malvern. I won’t trouble you.”

“Nonsense.” The count looked her in the eye, and if it were possible,
her skin paled even further. “As a personal favor to me,
Fraulein
Alice, I beg you to accept
Herr
Malvern’s assistance. I wish to continue our discussions of automata over dinner this evening, and if something were to prevent it, I should be most distressed.”

“Nothing will preven kg what t it, sir,” she managed. “But—”

“Good. It is settled, then. Shall we lift at eleven o’clock? I will notify the port authority.”

And so it was done.

Andrew would have an entire day within the cramped confines of the
Stalwart Lass
with three children who all had a bad habit of popping up when one least wanted them. The possibility of seeing Alice alone for even a moment to apologize for his behavior seemed more remote than ever. And yet, the prospect of five hundred miles of strained white politeness was unendurable.

Something would have to give.

“Claire.” Alice put a hand on Claire’s sleeve, and even through the
fine batiste, her fingers felt chilled. “You have to help me.”

“Of course.” After transferring Rosie to her left shoulder, Claire tucked
Alice’s cold hand into the crook of her arm and drew her into her cabin, where her valise sat packed and ready for lift. She had packed it before breakfast, having a feeling that Davina’s concern for Willie’s safety would carry the day. “What is it?”

“You have to fly with me, and manage the engine. I can’t—
we have to—” She broke off with a gasp that sounded almost like a sob. “Please.”

Was this Alice? Had someone switched her sensible, down-to-earth friend with this pale woman whose hands were now tucked into her armpits as if she had an ague?

“Alice, whatever is the matter? Here, sit by me.” Claire put Rosie on the bedside table and sat on the velvet coverlet of her bunk, but Alice did not. Instead, she paced from door to porthole and back again.

Rosie
shot her a gimlet glare and proceeded to preen her feathers.

“I can’t sit. I feel ready to fly out of my skin. I wish I’d never come here. I wish I’d gone when I wanted to go, and not let
hope flamboozle me into staying. Hope will kill you every time, Claire, like a rattler on a rock.”

“You are not entirely making sense,” she said gently. “Please, dear. What has happened?”

“I can’t tell you,” Alice moaned. “But you have to come with me. I can’t fly all that way with him, whether the girls are aboard or not.”