Full Steam Ahead (30 page)

“Repeated?” her mother interjected, her tone horrified.

Darius winced a bit and continued. “We also alerted the sheriff in Liberty as well as Sheriff Sparks here in Galveston once we docked. They each promised to do what they could to retrieve the Lafitte Dagger.”

“My daughter has chosen well, Thornton.” Anton Renard stretched a hand out to Darius. When he gave it a firm shake, a joy that she’d never known flooded Nicole’s heart.

“Now, help my daughter back to the sofa. I want to hear all about this mess with Carson Jenkins’s brood.”

“And I want to hear how the two of you met,” her mother said.

Darius grinned at Nicole as he tugged her to her feet. “It all started when she found an error in my calculations.”

“Even the most brilliant of scientific minds make mistakes now and then,” she teased as she took her seat on the sofa. “Especially when his handwriting is atrocious.”

“Back to the beginning, girl.” Her father’s gravelly voice cut in. “What happened when you first landed in Liberty?”

The tale took the length of the afternoon to tell and continued on through dinner as her father grilled his soon-to-be son-in-law about his work with King Star Shipping, and her mother grilled him about his family. The discussion was still going strong when her mother’s new cook served dessert.

A knock sounded on the front door, and the cook—Frannie, Nicole recalled—wiped her hands on her apron and bustled out to answer the summons. A moment later, Sheriff Sparks stepped into the dining room.

“Sorry to interrupt your supper, ma’am,” he said with a tip of his hat toward Nicole’s mother, “but I have some news to report regarding the dagger.”

Her father’s spoon clanked against his dish. “Well? Spit it out, Sparks.”

The lawman shifted his weight from foot to foot and fiddled with his sleeve cuff, as if he wished he could be anywhere but there. “The dagger is nowhere to be found, sir. Jenkins
claims he had no knowledge of his sons’ actions and regrets any harm that may have befallen you or your family.” He cast a quick, rueful glance at Nicole.

“Well, of course he claims that. The man’s not going to simply admit his guilt and hand the Lafitte Dagger over to you because you asked him a few questions.”

“I know that,” the sheriff snapped. “That’s why me and my deputies did a complete search of his residence as well as his shipping office. I also questioned men around the docks. Several witnesses reported seeing Fletcher and Will board one of their father’s ships bound for Cuba yesterday.”

Darius clenched his fist and pressed it into the tablecloth. “So they’ll not pay for their crimes against Miss Renard?”

Nicole covered his fist with her hand and soothed away his anger. “God will hold them accountable, even if the law cannot reach them. They’re gone, and they won’t be causing any further trouble for us. Let’s not waste time wishing for things that may never happen.”

His fist loosened, then opened so that his fingers threaded through hers, and the lines across his forehead smoothed. “You’re right. There are much more important things to focus on.”

He was giving her that look again, the one that made her think of kissing.

“There are warrants out for their arrest,” Sheriff Sparks assured them, “and I vow to see them carried out if either of them ever return.”

“And the dagger?” Nicole asked.

“Never mind about the dagger, Nicki,” her father said. “If it turns up, fine. If not, we will go on without it. Jenkins’s lust for that dagger has stolen his children from him. Most likely he’ll never see his boys again. He might not realize it
yet, but one day he’ll see that when a man loses his family, he loses everything. I thank God I escaped that fate.”

“Me too, Papa,” she whispered, then turned to look at the man who would be her husband, the father of her children, her family for the years to come, and thanked God for the providence that crossed her path with his. “Me too.”

L
ONDON
, E
NGLAND
O
NE
MONTH
LATER

D
arius Thornton extended his hand to assist his wife out of the hansom cab they’d taken from the hotel to Hyde Park.
His
wife
.
He still couldn’t believe his good fortune. How a socially averse curmudgeon like him had managed to snare the elegant, sable-haired beauty stepping from the carriage was a miracle only God himself could fully explain. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d watched the same elegant beauty strap a blade to her stocking-clad thigh that morning before they’d left their suite, he might have been tempted to believe that Providence had made a mistake. But there could be no mistaking the intimate smile his sassy little pirate cocked at him as she emerged from the carriage. Nicole Renard Thornton belonged to him, and he’d thank the Lord for that blessing for as long as he lived.

As his beloved’s gaze skittered past him, her eyes widened. “Oh, Darius. It’s even grander than I imagined. Look at all that glass. It truly
is
a crystal palace.”

He offered her his arm and led her up the wide path that wound past lush, manicured lawns and round pools with soaring fountains. Crowds of people from all walks of life milled about, slowing their progress, but Darius didn’t mind. With Nicole’s father regaining a bit of strength now that the stress of securing his daughter’s future was behind him, they had the luxury of enjoying London at a leisurely pace, perhaps even for an entire fortnight. Plenty of time to see all the Great Exhibition had to offer.

“I understand that when Queen Victoria opened the exhibit to the public last month she declared it the greatest display of industry and manufacturing in the modern world.” Darius tugged Nicole close to his side as they navigated around a group of gawking schoolchildren.

Nicole grinned at him, her excitement nearly as evident as that of the children they passed. “I can’t wait to see what’s inside.”

“I hear there is a
raja
’s elephant draped in a jeweled
howdah
.” Darius bent his head to murmur in her ear, partly to make himself heard above the chattering children and partly to torture himself with the nearness of the delectable skin at her throat that he so loved to nuzzle. “And an upstairs gallery filled with stained glass that filters the sunlight in every color of the rainbow.”

“And
I
hear they have steam engines of every possible variety and use.” She arched her brow at him, not fooled at all by his mention of the more aesthetically appealing exhibits. He truly did long to dazzle her with the wonders of the World’s Fair, but she knew him too well, knew he longed to dissect and digest all he could from the mechanical advances within the Crystal Palace. “And since this is as much
your
wedding trip as mine,” she continued, “and since I fell in love with you
fully aware of your addiction to boilers and steam mechanics, I suggest we investigate those first.”

Darius chuckled. “You’re too good to me, madam.”

“Only as good as you are to me.” She winked, and a soft laugh escaped her and warmed his blood. Yes, he would enjoy being good to this woman. For decades.

Once inside, the colorful displays demanded their attention. From a twenty-seven-foot-high pink glass fountain standing at the heart of the palace, to the steam hammer that could crush pounds of metal or gently crack an egg, to an envelope machine that could cut, fold, and gum thousands of envelopes an hour, to the largest diamond ever seen, the spectacle never ceased. After talking to nearly every steam engineer in the place, Darius steered Nicole toward the booths presented by France. It was past time to indulge her more feminine sensibilities. He dutifully smiled and nodded as she exclaimed over the rich tapestries, ornate furniture, and delicate porcelain, all while his mind processed the possible applications of the new designs for steam valves he’d seen. Or the submarine propeller for steamships. Or the—

“Darius, look at this.”

“Hmm?” He turned, prepared to smile and nod again over whatever pretty thing had caught his wife’s attention. So when she held up a metal gauge of some kind, it took him a minute to comprehend what he was seeing.

“The label declares it a New Metallic Manometer, and it’s been awarded a Council Medal. Do you think it could be used to measure steam pressure? I spotted a small steam engine at the back of the booth.” She pointed to a slit in the curtain behind the exhibit, where what appeared to be some kind of small boiler apparatus sat on a table.

Darius took the display gauge from Nicole’s hand, his
fingers trembling at the significance of what he could be holding. There was nothing heroic about its features, just a simple face containing a dial and hash marks to measure pressure levels. But when he turned the model over he encountered a design he’d never seen before. A curled tube followed the path of the circular frame, its sealed end attached to a linkage mechanism that would move the pointer on the front side. Darius lifted it to eye level to inspect it more closely while running a finger along the tube’s edge. Fascinating. Not round as one would suspect, but flattened on the top and bottom.

“Would you like to see a demonstration,
monsieur
?”

Darius glanced up to find a dapper gentleman sporting a tailored suit and impressive chin whiskers.

“It is quite a marvel,” the man continued, his French accent thick but not indecipherable. “It accurately measures pressure for steam, air, and water. I have every expectation that it will revolutionize the steam industry. No more exploding boilers to hold back our progress,
oui
?”

Or to steal lives.

Darius met the man’s gaze, hope swelling so full within him that he feared it would be his chest that exploded. “I’d very much like to see a demonstration, sir. I have a great interest in boiler safety, especially when it comes to steamboats. I’ve seen too much destruction, too many lives lost due to faulty handling of machinery that engineers don’t know how to control with any consistency.”

Nicole scooted closer, as if afraid she’d be excluded from the masculine conversation. She slipped her hand through the crook of Darius’s arm. “My husband has gone so far as to conduct numerous scientific experiments to discover the causes of these explosions, working with the Franklin
Institute of Pennsylvania. He has often commented on the need for a reliable mechanism to measure steam pressure.”

“Ah, you are American.” The Frenchman looked down his nose a bit as he said the word, but when he looked up at Darius again, interest and a glimmer of respect shone in his eyes. “I have heard of the Franklin Institute and have read their journal. A decent publication.” He turned to wave to his assistant, signaling the man to bring the small steam engine out from behind the curtain.

“I think you will find that my New Metallic Manometer is just what you have been seeking. I have found it to be the most accurate gauge of steam pressure ever created.” The man’s boast smacked of overconfidence, but Darius reserved judgment. If the thing worked, he’d boast on the man’s behalf to everyone who would listen.

“We are ready, Monsieur Bourdon,” his assistant said. “The fire’s been stoked and the heat is rising.”

“Ah,
très bien
.” Bourdon tapped the gauge mounted on top of the boiler’s water column. Darius’s gaze never left it as the man went on to explain how the device worked. “As the pressure builds, the curled tube straightens slightly, moving the lever.”

A familiar hiss developed in the boiler, signaling steam production. And just as the man predicted, the pointer on the gauge began to inch upward on the meter.

“It’s working, Darius,” Nicole whispered next to him, her quiet voice shivering with excitement. “It’s truly working!”

Darius couldn’t manage a reply. All he could do was watch the pointer continue to move as the hiss of steam grew louder. The lever had climbed nearly to the halfway point when the assistant popped the safety valve, releasing the steam.

“When the pressure decreases,” Bourdon continued, “the
tube relaxes back toward its original curved position, and the lever drops.”

Darius tore his gaze away from the wonder before him long enough to nod to Bourdon. “I must congratulate you, sir. This shows great promise, indeed. I’d be very interested in bringing a model back home with me to study further.”

“I’m afraid,
monsieur,
that I cannot allow such. This is a new patent, you understand, and I must protect my investment.”

“Of course,” Darius said politely, even as the muscles in his jaw tightened to the point that his teeth began to clench. America needed this device, needed it now. He might be able to replicate it if given enough time, but with his new responsibilities at Renard Shipping, time was an element in short supply. “Perhaps if I signed a document agreeing not to infringe on your patent . . . ? America needs a gauge like this desperately. Thousands of innocent lives are lost every year to riverboat explosions—explosions that could be avoided if we had an accurate way to measure steam pressure.”

Bourdon raised a brow, his mouth straightening into a line of displeasure.

Blast it all. Darius hadn’t intended to come across as threatening. He simply wished to convey the urgency of the situation.

Nicole’s fingers wrapped around his hand, gently loosening the fist he hadn’t even known he’d made. Darius glanced her way and found compassion glowing in her eyes, compassion tinged with warning. Forcing his muscles to relax, he gave her a tiny nod.

“My husband is passionate about this issue,
monsieur,
” she said by way of apology. “He experienced the deadly force of these explosions firsthand in New Orleans, aboard the
steamship
Louisiana
, and longs to prevent such disasters from occurring in the future.”

Bourdon’s features immediately softened. “The
Louisiana
? My sympathies,
monsieur
. Even in France we heard of this tragedy. I’m afraid I cannot give you a model of my design to take with you, but I can tell you that another American approached me a few weeks ago when he saw my manometer. He wishes to buy the rights to my design in order to market it in your country. At the conclusion of the exhibition, we will begin negotiations. His name is Edward Ashcroft. I’d be happy to give you his direction.”

Darius managed to choke out a thank-you through the thickness in his throat. As Bourdon disappeared behind his curtain to retrieve Ashcroft’s address, Darius turned to the woman at his side.

“This is the answer, Nicole. I feel it in my bones. The Lord has answered our prayers.”

Her smile washed over him with such joy, it was all he could do not to sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He needed to celebrate. To share this moment with her in a way that this public hall would not permit.

“Would you mind terribly if we viewed the rest of the exhibits tomorrow?” he asked, his voice deepening to a husky timbre. “I don’t think I could fully appreciate them in my current state of mind.” He let his gaze rove over her in a way that communicated exactly what state of mind he was in. The blush that rose to her cheeks only added to the triumph surging through his veins. But she didn’t look away. No, his little pirate met his gaze squarely.

“I find that suggestion quite agreeable, husband.”

The moment Darius had Mr. Ashcroft’s direction tucked safely in his pocket, he cut a path through the crowds
swarming the grounds of the Crystal Palace with the efficiency of a jungle explorer on expedition. Only, the treasure he hunted was already on his arm. A priceless treasure whose value was far above rubies, and one he would hold tight to forever.