The Lady Machinist (Curiosity Chronicles Book 1) (19 page)

“Yes.” Nikolaos didn’t sound too pleased. “An heir to the Aspasian throne.”

“That drops me from the line.” The notion of returning to plebeian citizenship brought Lydia relief rather than disappointment. The fate of the Aspasian throne no longer rested on her.

“And there is yet one more thing. My presence is requested in Aspasia. His Majesty informs me that the matter is most urgent.”

Lydia tilted her head. “Did the king say why you were being recalled?”

Nikolaos handed her the official document. “He said it involved my role as a state official, but I do not see how. International affairs have added much to my life, despite an initial loss.” He wiggled his brass fingers. “I received a tidy sum from New Britannia for the loss of my arm. I am even being paid as a tester of Dr. Valerian’s iron prostheses. An eccentric and curious man he is, but his designs are quite clever. I should be able to master the movements of this arm in several weeks.”

Lydia gave him a smile as he rambled on about himself. “Always the opportunist, aren’t you?”

“I hope you learned something from watching me these past several months.”

“Oh, I have. Never reveal your hand until the moment your opponent is assured of his fate. Am I paraphrasing correctly?”

Nikolaos closed his metal hand. “I suppose. All matters of past associations aside, we should focus on the future. If I have to take a brief trip home, we should marry to ensure you will have protected status while I am away. I have noticed more than one man at that COIC building looking at you.”

Lydia gave a light shrug of dismissal. “They attend my automaton demonstrations. They have to look at me since I’m standing at the front of the room.”

Nikolaos’ mustache twitched. “What is on your mind, Lydia? Are you still pining over Cartret since he left you straggled on the beach?”

Lydia continued to smile through his attempts to quash her façade. “I hope you learned all you could about that iron arm from Dr. Valerian.”

“What do you mean?”

Lydia rang the bell for the attendant. Within seconds, four burly constables entered the room. They surrounded Nikolaos.

One jingled cuffs. “We’re here on behalf of the Foreign Office, at your king’s request. Come along with us, your lordship, and we won’t be forced to use these.”

Nikolaos looked askance at Lydia. “What is going on here?”

Lydia dangled King Sabba’s letter in his face. “This is the result of my correspondence to His Majesty. I made known to him your less than patriotic actions during the voyage to New Britannia. You may be shielded by diplomatic immunity abroad, but the matter is entirely different in our own country.”

Nikolaos’ eyes grew big and his lips curled. “You told him?”

“You don’t listen very well when you’re nervous. Let me put it to you in Greek.” She met him eye to eye and spoke their shared language quick and precise. “I’m grateful you stood up for me when Finley threatened to shoot me, but I won’t stand for being a pawn in your greedy schemes. Now these constables will escort you to the docks where a ship is waiting to take you back to Aspasia. There’s no sense in struggling. They have official deportation papers.”

Strands of Nikolaos’ thinning hair fell over his forehead as he struggled against the firm hold of the constables. “Do you really think that I will leave London now that I know why I am being called home?”

Lydia folded the letter and tucked it away. She looked to the chief constable. “Would you prefer to tell him?”

“My pleasure, your ladyship. Lord Abeiron, New Britannia no longer recognizes your diplomatic status. That means you won’t be compensated or given room and board. Your accounts have been seized. Your assets will be funneled to King Sabba to do with as he will.”

Lydia added, “I suggest you board that vessel immediately. And pray that my uncle deals fairly with you.”

She turned her back as Nikolaos was dragged away. His angry shouts echoed down the hall and all the way outside in the streets until she heard the door of a Black Maria shut, cutting him off for good.

It was done.

The confrontation left her tense, but everything went according to plan. Nikolaos would never bother her or take advantage of anyone else again.

She sat down on the workbench to collect herself. Outside the street bustled with the sounds of horses trotting, newsboys yelling, and peddlers hawking. Inside the grandfather clock next to the fireplace struck noon.

“Lady Dimosthenis?” The doorman appeared at the workroom entrance.

She turned from the clock. “Yes?”

“A messenger from the Cabinet of Intellectual Curiosities came by and left a note. He apologizes for the short notice, but your presence is requested, nay, required at their building this afternoon at three.”

“That is very short notice. Did they say what it was about?”

He presented her with the calling card. “That is all the messenger told me. I suppose it has to do with those automatons. Perhaps the two manuals you published in the last month weren’t enough to answer all their questions,” he provided his droll observation.

Lydia turned the calling card over. Nothing on the back side. “Well, if I must make an appearance. Please inform Mrs. Huckabee that I will need her assistance.” She referred to the matronly attendant who usually helped lace her into the beautiful yet rigid dresses and underpinnings that were ladies fashion.

The doorman bowed. “Yes, my lady. I will send for a cab as well.” He departed from the room.

Despite her display of indifference to the request for an appearance at the COIC, Lydia did wonder what it was about. What more could the officials want her to supply?

She sighed and went to change from her work clothes into something involving a skirt and corset.

#

“And that’s how the hydraulic fluid pumps through the engine and powers the automaton. Are there any questions?” Lydia asked at the end of her presentation. When none were forthcoming, she concluded. “Thank you for your time, gentlemen.”

The COIC officials politely applauded Lydia. She removed the diagram of an automaton from the easel at the front of the audience chamber.

“Thank you again, Lady Dimosthenis. If you would wait in my office, we’ll send for you shortly.” The Secretary held the door open for her.

What was left to deliberate? Lydia’s curiosity was mixed with a shred of annoyance. She gave the officials the same presentation one week before.

“You’ll find tea and refreshments in the office,” the Secretary said as she passed him.

“Mr. Secretary, was there anything that I failed to clarify in my presentation?”

The official gave the impression that he had seen and heard every attempt made by those outside of the organization to be privy to its methods. “It is standard procedure for COIC agents to convene privately before decisions are made, Lady Dimosthenis.”

“What decision?”

“Control over the automaton manufacture. Now, if you would, do wait in the office. It won’t be long.”

It was worth a try. Lydia turned right and stopped in her tracks.

Rhys stood at the end of the hall. Dressed in black suit and top hat, he talked with a high-level official, judging from the other man’s decorative medallions and ribbons pinned to his coat. Rhys held a black portfolio under his arm.

Every muscle in her body tensed. What was Rhys doing here after two months’ absence?

She continued to stare at him. He appeared as the day he stood on the Aspasian beach, handsome and dapper, standing tall over everyone else. Her heart skipped as it did when she first saw him.

He looked her way before walking towards her. Just as she thought he would approach, the Secretary called out to him. “Good afternoon, Agent Cartret. We’ve been expecting you.”

The Secretary ushered him into the audience chamber before he could speak. The door shut behind them.

Most odd.

Lydia proceeded into the Secretary’s office. A tea service had been set by the desk. She hurried to pour herself a cup of bergamot tea and sipped the aromatic liquid. Her hands shook so that she spilled several drops onto her dress.

She wished she could hear all that was being said in that chamber.

Lydia reached for a napkin and dabbed the front of her bodice. Ten minutes later, someone tapped on the door. She opened it to Rhys.

He held his top hat and the portfolio under one arm as he stood in the doorway. “May I come in?”

The humble question hung in the air. Something changed in him since she’d seen him on the ship. Though still confident, he seemed more cautious.

“Yes.” Lydia set her cup on the tray before she could succeed in spilling the rest of it down her dress. “I was waiting for the Secretary to send for me.”

“I just heard about Nikolaos’ deportation from the Secretary. I don’t know how you got rid of him, but very well played.” He gave her a wink that sent her insides fluttering.

“It was a long time coming.” Lydia moved to the brown leather Chesterfield. She grew confused as Rhys passed the desk and stopped in front of her. “I thought you said you had official business.”

“I’m here to see you.”

The gentle way he said it soothed her nerves. “Didn’t we complete our business?”

“Not quite. There was something else that I should have done for you.” He presented her with the black portfolio. “This is the manufacturing licensure for the automatons that you asked for in the very beginning. The officials just approved it.”

He moved to her side. The lightweight wool of his coat brushed against her arm. Even beneath her long sleeves, the tiny hairs on her arm stood on end. “New Britannia will give Aspasia a share of any profits resulting from the automatons, as well as an annual production fee.”

The magnitude of such a gesture washed over her. “Was this why the COIC summoned me today?”

Rhys nodded. “I’ve been in talks with them since I returned from sea three weeks ago. That’s why they kept requesting information from you, to see if granting a full license was a worthy investment.”

“I had a feeling you’d gone out to sea again. Not as dangerous as your last expedition, I hope.” She found herself bantering with him once more. Whether it was to relive the past or avoid hearing that he moved on from her, she couldn’t say.

“I was away for five weeks in France on reconnaissance. We apprehended some of Broussard’s men off the coasts of Cherbourg and Le Havre, but they wouldn’t give his whereabouts.” Rhys set his hat on the Chesterfield and went to the tea service. “The matter is in the hands of another department for the time being. As for the mutineers, well, their days of treason are over. The Admiralty Court found them guilty.”

“Where does that leave you?”

“Back to being a merchant until the COIC requires my services again.”

Lydia clutched the portfolio. “Thank you for all you’ve done.”

He lifted the lid of the petit fours tray. “Lydia, I was wrong in how I approached you in the first agreement. I shouldn’t have dismissed your requests. You deserve to benefit from the fruits of your labor, as should Aspasia.” He returned the lid to the petit fours tray without taking a pastry. “I’ve been wrong about many things. I’m sorry that I didn’t reveal my past sooner when it became clear how I felt about you. Those feelings haven’t changed.”

“I should have trusted you instead of pressing you early on,” Lydia acknowledged. “That was wrong.”

“I never knew until you mentioned the
Donna Dulce
that you were connected to it. I can’t change what happened in Italy. If I could, I would not hesitate to do so in order to spare you the pain. Even if it meant never meeting you or having the privilege of falling in love with you.”

Lydia’s voice thickened with tears. “I won’t lie. I was so angry when you told me you were on that pirate ship, but I’ve had time to think since then. The circumstances were beyond your control.”

He perched on the edge of the desk. “That doesn’t negate the damage.”

“You have my forgiveness, but that’s not what you require. You can’t torment yourself forever.”

Lydia closed the distance between herself and Rhys. Her fingers touched the planes of his jaw, the lines of his firm, well-shaped mouth. The tension still clung to his shoulders and back, as he held them rigid within the confines of his coat.

“Please forgive yourself.” She moved into the space between his arms.

After several moments, he folded them around her. She closed her eyes as a peace settled over her. Being in his embrace again, his cheek touching hers, inhaling his clean masculine scent. She missed him much more than she realized.

He pressed his lips against her ear. “I asked the Secretary if I could present that license to you. I didn’t know if you’d want to see me again after this.”

“That’s not true. I’ve missed you.”

“I love you, Lydia.”

“I love you, too.”

He captured her mouth with his. She had not forgotten the feel and taste of his lips. The same emotions she experienced during their first kiss increased tenfold as she gave in to his touch, not holding back in fear this time.

Someone coughed. Lydia saw the Secretary at the door.

“Agent Cartret, it appears you and I have different interpretations as to what it means to present Lady Dimosthenis with an important message.” The Secretary’s prudent tone was laced with prim disapproval.

Rhys stood and shielded Lydia from view. “I apologize. The message was delivered. Lady Dimosthenis will accept the licensure.”

“Good. But see that any ancillary messages you have for her don’t happen again. At least, not in my office.”

“Yes, Mr. Secretary.”

“When I return in five minutes, I want you both to have collected yourselves and be ready to meet in the audience chamber.”

The door clicked shut. Lydia stepped out of hiding. Rhys’ eyes held their mischievous glint again.

“We really must be careful if we’re to be working alongside each other,” she told him.

“I was thinking of a different arrangement.”

“Oh?” She put her hands on her hips. “What did you have in mind?”

His eyes focused on the area of her hips and waist. “Did I say that I preferred you in pants instead of a dress? I may have to side with the Londoners when it comes to that fetching little number.”