The Lady Machinist (Curiosity Chronicles Book 1) (18 page)

“You should know I don’t go away so easily.” He purred in her ear. She laughed. He drew back slightly, still holding her by the shoulder. “Lydia, what I said before about how I don’t discuss my past. It’s time that I did.”

She put a finger to his lips. “Finley told me about your history as a pirate. He did it maliciously, of course, but it doesn’t matter. After all that’s happened, I have a new understanding and respect for you. Your actions show that you’re not the man you were before.”

Rhys drew his brows together. He took her finger away from his lips. “What did Finley tell you?”

“He said he was on the ship that brought you and Malcolm to stand trial two years ago.” It embarrassed her to repeat the details. “Finley was probably exaggerating. And if he wasn’t, I’m sure what you did to get thrown in jail was nothing in comparison to the gross criminal negligence other pirates exacted at the time. My husband was one of their victims.”

Rhys frowned, bemused. “But your husband died at sea.”

How did he know the details surrounding Galen’s passing? “Yes. The official report is that a gunpowder explosion occurred on the ship he bought passage on in Italy, but I didn’t tell you about that. Did Nikolaos?”

Rhys’ tanned face paled before her eyes.

“Rhys, you’re beginning to make me worry. Why are you not answering?”

He finally focused his eyes on Lydia and when he did, they shone with wildness that she’d never seen before. “What ship did you say your husband sailed?”

“I never said, but it was the
Donna Dulce
. Why?”

“God help me.”

“What is it?”

“Lydia, I’m so very sorry.”

The horror in his gaze left her fearful and bewildered. “Sorry about what?”

His tone blackened. “The
Donna Dulce
explosion wasn’t an accident.”

Her words caught in her throat. “What
?
”

“A pirate fired upon the ship. He captained
The Neptune
, and…I was part of his crew.”

The revelation took the wind out of her. Everything she believed about the circumstances surrounding Galen was confirmed. He was no victim of an accident. He was murdered.

Even so, she looked to Rhys, desperate for there to be error in his recollection. “But you’re an ambassador. A COIC agent. You couldn’t have been on that ship.”

“I didn’t take part in the attack, but I was onboard.” He lowered his head. “When Malcolm and I accepted positions as sailors, we didn’t know the captain turned pirate. He revealed his intentions to steal from merchant vessels after we sailed to open waters. By then, it was too late.”

Lydia backed away from him. Rhys extended his right arm, stopping short of reaching her.

“Malcolm and I were chained in the brig when we refused to board the
Donna Dulce
, but we heard everything down below.” He grimaced as though someone struck him. “To this day, I can’t put the sounds of anguished men from my mind.”

Lydia felt the tears well in her eyes. She glowered at Rhys through blurred vision.

“The king’s navy caught up with us after they learned the captain recruited a crew in British port. Malcolm and I testified to the captain’s crime when we stood trial for piracy. In return for our testimonies, we were given prison sentences and the parole condition that we serve the COIC on matters of maritime intrigue.”

Lydia balled her fists. “You were made a diplomat. You profited from crimes that other men hang for.”

“No.” Rhys set his jaw. “There is no reward in knowing that I couldn’t prevent innocent men from dying. Men like your husband.”

Lydia heard Rhys’ words, sensed his honesty, and still a black rage bubbled up inside her. It filled the spaces of her mind. Made her want to scream. She launched herself past him.

“Lydia, wait.”

“Do not follow me.” She whirled. “You are a liar. A schemer pretending to be an honorable man.”

Rhys didn’t retreat. “Lydia, I didn’t know that you had a connection to the
Donna Dulce
.”

“You think that changes things? I came to trust you.”

Rhys appeared torn, but she refused to let herself sympathize when her own heart was beaten down.

“You helped your country,” he said. “What you now know about me doesn’t change that.”

“You’ll forgive me for not having the sophistication to pick and choose how I see you because you’ve thrown money Aspasia’s way.” She shook her head, disgusted at him and even more at her own bitter sarcasm. “Your entire mission has been a fraud. You’re a fraud.”

She raced for the topside door. Malcolm and O’Neil worked on the rigging nearby. They halted their progress as they spotted her advance.

“Lass?” Malcolm called.

Ignoring him, she fumbled at the door latch before it gave in to her clumsy handling. Hurling herself into the ship’s interior, she slammed it behind her. The tears spilled down her cheeks. Lydia wiped at them in a fury, ashamed that her emotions were laid bare for all to gawk at.

It had all been a fantasy, this whirlwind dalliance. It didn’t matter that Rhys said he was in love with her. His connection to the
Donna Dulce
was too much to bear. There was no moving past it.

She played the fool for Rhys. Now she couldn’t undo her mistake. She had no choice but to continue onward to New Britannia’s shores and live with the consequences of giving her heart to a man who even told her that he couldn’t offer her his. Not in the way she wanted. And now she knew why.

#

Rhys stood on the port bow with the Secretary of the COIC and watched as envoys loaded the last automaton on the carriages on shore. Lydia’s carriage led the line of transport vehicles. She was to be escorted to an apartment in an estate on the outskirts of central London.

He never got a chance to speak to her after she ran off. She locked herself in his cabin until the envoys came below deck to find her. Rhys pained at the sight of her scrubbed face, still bearing reddened eyes and remnants of tears as she swept past him, following the officials who carried her belongings off the ship.

How would he face her again after this?

“Did you hear me, Agent Cartret?” The Secretary of the COIC snapped shut a brown ledger detailing the ship’s estimated damage. “I will see you and Clark in my office tomorrow morning. I expect a full written account of what transpired in the brig, as well as that break in the engine room.”

“What do you intend to do with the mutineers?” Rhys pointed to the beachfront where armed agents surrounded the three sailors. They sat in the sand, hands bound behind their backs.

“They’re being taken to headquarters where they’ll be interrogated by an official. From there, Scotland Yard will escort them to jail to await trial on the charges of mutiny and treason. I still cannot believe a decorated naval officer would stoop to such a low. Finley’s credentials were impeccable.”

Rhys scoffed at Finley’s supposed qualifications. “You have six people to attest to his crime.”

The Secretary gave a firm shake of his head. “The Aspasians have diplomatic immunity. Even though Lady Dimosthenis informed me of Finley’s intentions, including his plan to contract with Broussard, her testimony in Admiralty Court will not be required.”

Rhys’ shoulders tensed. He switched his gaze to the quarterdeck, where Nikolaos was being fastened to a gurney to be lowered into a longboat. “Lord Abeiron took part in the mutiny. You’re not going to let him walk free.”

“
Agent
Cartret.” The Secretary bristled as he pulled rank. “Need I remind you of the purpose of your assignment? New Britannia cannot maintain good standing with Aspasia if we hold that nation’s representative liable for any supposed misconduct.”

“Lord Abeiron’s ‘misconduct’ was not supposed.” Rhys ground out through his teeth.

A muscle in the Secretary’s neck twitched. “What proof do you have of his involvement? If anything, Lord Abeiron can blame
you
for his sustained injuries. No firearm on this vessel short of a cannon could have cost him his arm save for your custom revolver and bullets.”

“Which Finley stole from me and used on Lord Abeiron after he refused to continue taking part in the mutiny.”

“The matter is no longer in your authority. Lord Abeiron has already claimed diplomatic immunity and has graciously agreed to not hold you and the crew responsible for the injuries he and Lady Dimosthenis sustained. You know the rules, Cartret.”

Rhys knew what the Secretary could do with the rules. Still, he loathed admitting that there was nothing he could do about Nikolaos. International law turned in the man’s favor. The fact that he lost his right arm in diplomatic service also bore a great deal of weight.

Lydia probably saw Nikolaos in a better light than she did him at this moment. Rhys moved to fold his arms across his chest, remembering too late that one arm was in a sling. He grunted.

The Secretary went on droning. “For what it’s worth, I’d say you did rather well in keeping a hold of the ship. Other than the unfortunate consequences of the storm and mutiny, of course. Let’s hope the expense report balances out. Good day, Agent Cartret.” He walked to the starboard side and signaled for the crew to lower him down in a longboat.

Rhys clenched his right hand as he marched below deck, intent on finding sustenance in the galley before he made the trip into London. Although, he knew the gnawing sensation in his stomach was not present on account of hunger.

Malcolm was in the galley, clearing out the remaining food in the pantry. He took one look at Rhys and scowled. “What tripe did you say to the lass? She was all in tears when she left.” He waved a jar of gherkins at him.

Rhys went to the cupboards and started rummaging. “She knows, Malcolm. She knows we were onboard the
The Neptune
. Her husband was on the
Donna Dulce
.”

Glass shattered behind him. “What?”

The sharp tang of brine filled the galley as Rhys summarized the last conversation he had with Lydia. When he finished, Malcolm’s scowl was gone, replaced by a slack jaw. “I always knew there’d be a day our mistake would come back to haunt us, Malcolm. I just never thought I’d meet someone connected to it. Only fate would allow me to fall in love with a woman who makes me forget the past, yet is forever entwined with it.” Rhys stepped over the broken gherkin jar and settled against a table. “And I still want to be with her.”

“What are you going to do?”

“What haven’t I done? I’ve taken everything from Lydia. I’ve acquired her inventions, took her out of her own country, away from family. Now I learn that her husband was one of the victims on that ship.” Rhys stood to his full height. “I have to bring justice to this matter, even if Lydia doesn’t want to speak to me again. I owe her more than I can ever repay.”

Malcolm hung his head. “The poor lass. I don’t know what to say. All I know is I need a drink after hearing this. A tall, long swig of rum.”

Rhys left the galley. He didn’t need liquid fortification. He needed Lydia, and he was intent to get her to hear him one more time. It didn’t matter how long it took.

London, October 1837

Lydia didn’t see Rhys for the next two months.

With no word from the COIC of his whereabouts, she came to the conclusion that he was off on another mission, his involvement with her already forgotten. Given the bitter, angry words she threw at him before they parted ways, why should he want to see her again?

Lydia tried distracting herself from her regret by focusing on her new life in London. New Britannia’s capital teemed with people. A jaunt through the COIC building alone indicated that she was not the only foreigner in the city. The agency stood as a beacon of progress, employing people of many nations and races, and frequently seeking contributors of varying schools of thought.

Over time, Lydia found herself letting go of her initial beliefs of New Britannia’s citizenry. Those who crossed her path were nothing like the hard, callous pirates who invaded Aspasia. Rhys was correct in that observation.

Rhys. No matter how busy her days, she often laid awake at night in her amply-furnished but lonely apartments, thinking of him.

Rhys was not a pirate. Out of anger and grief over the truth concerning her husband’s fate, she treated him as though he were guilty of a crime he didn’t commit. She had been given a second chance at love, and she threw it away.

But at least there was one matter she could make right for Rhys, even if he never learned of it. Lydia began the task shortly after her arrival in London. It started with a letter she wrote to King Sabba.

One morning in October at her workroom in her apartment, the doorman announced Nikolaos’ presence over the apartment’s floor to floor speaker system.

“Send him in,” she said into the speaker system as she closed the panel on the second-issue windup automaton model.

“What about the other gentlemen you called for, your ladyship? They’re waiting in the parlor room.” The doorman’s voice came in tinny and muted through the receiver.

“Tell them to go into the hall as instructed. We will speak with them shortly.”

Two minutes later, Nikolaos glided through the door, red robes moving at his feet. He never adopted the British men’s suit and cravat, choosing instead to retain his Aspasian attire. With his draping garments and new mechanical right arm, he fast received the label of an eccentric.

“I received word from King Sabba.” Using his brass and iron arm, he withdrew an envelope from the folds of his robe. “He reports that the coffer stores grow weekly.”

Lydia was pleased. “Our efforts proved successful.”

“That is not all that has been growing. He writes to say that Her Majesty Queen Eleni is expecting. She is to bring a son or daughter into the world by December.”

“No wonder she had bouts of illness during the summer months. She wasn’t sickly. She was with child.”