Full Steam Ahead (13 page)

D
arius watched the play of emotions on his secretary’s face move from shock to panic to caution all in the space of few heartbeats.

“Trouble?” she asked, obviously reluctant to volunteer any information.

Darius sighed. His gut had told him she’d not want to open up about it, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from hoping his instincts were wrong. It would be so much easier if she just laid her cards out on the table for him to diagram and dissect. Probing around in private matters required a delicacy he’d never mastered. His conversational tools had all the delicacy of a sledgehammer.

“Wellborn told me about your request.” If he was going to bludgeon, he might as well smash straight to the point and minimize the damage. “Regarding Oakhaven visitors.”

A slight tightening around her mouth was the only indication of her distress. Keeping her attention firmly locked on her tart, she collected her dessert fork and used the side to break off a piece of the pastry. “I’d rather hoped you’d be too
busy with your work to care about any comings and goings that didn’t concern you. Wellborn shouldn’t have bothered you with such a trifling matter.” She brought the bite to her mouth and chewed slowly, as if savoring the sweet. But he knew better. She was stalling. Using the tart as an excuse to occupy her mouth so she couldn’t answer his questions.

Darius tugged her plate out of reach before she could stab a second bite.

“Nicole.”

His use of her given name had the desired effect. Her chin jerked up and her eyes widened as she scanned his face.

“Your safety is not a trifling matter.” The urge to cover her hand with his speared through him, but he resisted, not knowing how she’d interpret such a gesture. Unsure, as well, how he’d
want
her to interpret it. “While you are at Oakhaven, you are under my protection. Whatever you are running away from—”

“I’m not running away.” Her eyes sparked, and she visibly bristled as if he’d offended her. “I’m simply taking care of an . . . an errand for my father. It requires a bit of secrecy, is all, and there are competitors who wish to . . . interfere.”

She chose her words with care. Too much care.

What father would send his daughter on a secret errand knowing others would attempt to
interfere
? Had he no concern for her well-being? Surely her errand had not originally entailed gaining employment as a secretary, which meant something had already gone wrong and she’d been forced to improvise. He thanked God her improvising had brought her to him and not to some brigand who would toss her to the sharks at the first hint of trouble.

Why hadn’t she returned home? Who was after her? What was this mysterious errand that she risked so much for? And
how much was she truly risking? Her father’s favor? Her reputation? He stilled. Her life?

He wanted nothing more than to demand answers from her, but the mulish set of her jaw warned he’d only hit a wall of silence should he choose that route. So he bit his tongue and made a few mental calculations.

If he’d learned nothing else from his experiments with boilers, he’d learned that if one didn’t get the answers he sought with the first attempt, one must approach the problem from a new angle. So he slid her dessert back in front of her and casually took a bite of his own.

“Why has this . . . errand fallen to you? Most fathers would see to business matters themselves, especially if there are competitors who might . . . interfere.” He chanced a look at her as he raised his fork to his mouth for a second bite, careful to keep his tone mild and his expression only slightly interested.

She poked at the jam in her tart with the tines of her fork, her gaze downcast. “I’m afraid his health is failing,” she finally admitted. “His competitors are eager to take advantage of his deteriorating condition with unscrupulous schemes. As his only child, the duty of safeguarding the family and securing our business fell to me.” Nicole glanced up then, her eyes blazing with a determined fire. “I’m not the type to sit idly by and wait for solutions to fall from the sky when trouble arises. I find much more is accomplished when one analyzes a problem and takes the necessary action to overcome it.”

Darius lifted another bite of dessert to his mouth, mentally cataloguing all the details he could sift out of her conversation while he chewed. Ill father. Only child. A family business. “Very practical of you,” he conceded. “I employ similar methods myself when designing my experiments.”

“Precisely.” A smile broke across her face with such radiant beauty that for a moment Darius could only stare.

Forcing himself to look away, he struggled to recoup the strategy that had exploded into tiny, unorganized bits the moment her smile hit. Something about trouble. Competitors. Plans.
Ah, yes.
“So what part of your plan led you to Oakhaven?”

Her smile dimmed even as her chin came up in that defiant way of hers that was as annoying as it was admirable. “I was on my way to New Orleans to seek aid among my father’s business associates when an unfortunate incident forced me into a detour that depleted my funds.”

“I see. So you intended your employment here at Oakhaven to be a temporary arrangement.” Stunning how much that prospect distressed him.

“I’m sorry, Darius. I know I should have told you from the beginning.” She dropped her fork and laid a gentle hand on his forearm, her touch playing havoc with his thought processes. “I was just so afraid you wouldn’t hire me if you knew I planned to leave after a few weeks.”

“It
will
be rather tiresome to train a replacement,” he grumbled. As if a comparable substitute even existed. The woman was perfect for him. . . .
As my secretary,
he quickly amended, grabbing his nearly empty glass and swigging down the last mouthful of water.

How had their conversation gotten so far off track? He thumped the glass back onto the table and rubbed absently at the pulse throbbing in his temple. The length of Nicole’s stay wasn’t important. Keeping her safe for the duration was.

“So, these competitors . . . What do they hope to gain by
interfering
with your journey?” The instant the question left his mouth, he knew it was too direct.

Nicole dropped her gaze and removed her hand from his arm. “With all due respect, Mr. Thornton . . .”

Drat.
They were back to
Mr. Thornton
again.

“ . . . the details of the business I’m conducting for my father are not your concern.”

“They are if they put you in danger. And what of the rest of my staff?” Darius snatched the napkin from his lap and threw it onto the table before lurching to his feet and pacing behind his chair. “I have a right to know if having you here is putting them at risk.”

“No greater risk than they face from your exploding boilers!” Nicole shot from her seat, color running high in her cheeks.

The audacity of the chit. “I take every precaution—”

“As do I.” She glared at him. “The Wellborns are in no peril, especially if they keep my presence here a secret. It’s doubtful that Jenkins’s sons will find me, anyway. Heaven knows they aren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer.”

“As master of this house, it’s my duty to know the business of those under my roof.” He didn’t know what nonsense he was spouting now. He didn’t care. Nicole had let a vital piece of information slip in her anger, and he wasn’t about to let the argument cool long enough for her to notice her lapse.

“Well, perhaps it’s time I collect the pay I’ve earned and leave you and your roof to your own devices.”

Not on her life. The woman would be unprotected. Vulnerable. Easy prey for that Jenkins scum. But he couldn’t let her know his refusal was out of concern for her. She’d simply assure him she’d be fine and walk out the door.

Darius crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at her. “You agreed to accept payment after a term
of two weeks. I’ll not pay a cent before then. You owe me ten more days, Miss Greyson. Or do you plan to renege on our agreement?”

Her hands fisted at her sides. “I never go back on my word.”

“Good. Then be dressed and ready to journey with me to Grand Cane first thing in the morning. Church services start at ten o’clock, and everyone at Oakhaven is expected to attend.” And on that ridiculous bit of imperious blather, he turned and strode out of the room.

The moment Darius left, Nicole plopped onto her chair in an undignified heap. Suddenly cold, she hugged herself and rubbed her arms with trembling hands.

She’d nearly ruined everything. And for what? Her pride? If Darius had taken her up on her offer to vacate his home, she’d be back to where she’d been five days ago—short on funds, with no likely employment prospects on the horizon.

He would have been well within his rights to send her packing, probably should have, truth to tell. Despite her posturing, her being at Oakhaven
did
present a risk to Darius and his household. So why did he insist she stay? Was he that desperate for someone to organize his notes and assist with his experiments, or was there another motive at play?

A creak from the door leading to the kitchen kept her from further analyzing that thought. Mrs. Wellborn slipped into the room and began clearing the table.

“Saw the master pass the kitchen on his way to the study,” she said in explanation of her presence. “I swear, sometimes I think that man wouldn’t stop working even for the second coming. Barely touched his tart.” The housekeeper tsked and shook her head as she collected Darius’s dishes. “Oh well.
At least he ate in the dining room tonight. That’s progress, I suppose.”

She brushed past Nicole and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t let his rush dictate your pace, dearie. I have some tea steeping in the kitchen. I’ll bring you a cup so that you can relax while you finish your dessert. You deserve at least that much after the day you’ve had.”

Nicole craned her neck to meet the older woman’s eyes. Sympathy shone there, a sympathy that seemed too fresh to be related to the afternoon’s explosion. No, most likely it stemmed from a combination of thin walls and raised voices. The woman was simply too well trained to acknowledge that she’d overheard their . . . discussion.

“Would it be all right if I brought my tart into the kitchen?” Nicole asked. “I’d enjoy some company along with that tea, if you can spare the time to sit and chat for a bit.”

The housekeeper beamed. “I’d like nothing better.” She patted Nicole’s arm, and some of the chill seemed to leave the room.

Nicole answered with a smile of her own, then rose and collected her dishes before following Mrs. Wellborn into the kitchen.

It didn’t take long for the housekeeper to have two steaming teacups on the table. Nicole lightly curved her fingers around the china cup, savoring the warmth and bending close to inhale the fragrant steam.

“You’re an angel, Mrs. Wellborn. This is exactly what I needed.” Nicole stirred in a teaspoon of sugar and set the spoon on her saucer with a delicate
clink
.

The lady smiled as she lowered herself into the chair across from Nicole. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the course of my fifty-five years, it’s that warm tea and warm company
can shrink any problem down to a manageable size.” Leaving her tea to cool, Mrs. Wellborn fiddled with her lace cap for a moment, then met Nicole’s gaze. “Arthur told me of your request. That we not reveal your presence to any visitors who might show up looking for you.”

Nicole’s chest tightened. The stress that had begun to dissipate under the influence of sweetened tea and Mrs. Wellborn’s kind smiles came back with a vengeance. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze to her cup. “I know such a request puts you in an awkward position. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important. But please don’t ask me to explain my reasons. It’s a private matter that I will deal with alone, should the need arise.”

“Slow down, dearie. No one’s asking you to explain anything.” The housekeeper reached across the table and clasped Nicole’s hand. “I only brought it up because I wanted to assure you that Arthur and I will do everything we can to help.”

Nicole raised her chin in time to catch the twinkle in the older lady’s eye as the dear woman continued. “This won’t be the first time Arthur and I had to deploy discretion for the good of the family.”

“But I’m not family.” Strange how bitter those words tasted on her tongue.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Mrs. Wellborn’s grip tightened on Nicole’s hand. “You’re family to us. You have been since the day you entered this house with that sweet, sassy spirit of yours, willing to work hard and help with tasks far beneath a woman of your station.”

“Oh, but I’m not—”

“Goodness, child.” The housekeeper tittered. “I knew you had breeding the moment you swept through the front door. You might have fallen on hard times, but I know a lady
of quality when I see one.” She patted Nicole’s hand, the simple gesture strangely effective in inspiring reassurance, when from another it would have felt patronizing. “Whatever trouble you’re facing, miss, I’m fully confident it’s not of your making.”