Of Silk and Steam
Page 30
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“You’re in danger,” he murmured. “We all are.”
That piqued her interest. Her gaze traveled toward the Lionheart. The enormous gray envelope floated aloft, steel cables encircling it and holding the enclosed gondola beneath it. It was one of the dirigibles created for passenger use, rather than the closely guarded plans for a warship that she’d seen in the back offices of Galloway’s, where he was building an air fleet to keep the ravaging humanists of France at bay, should they attack. It was one of the prince consort’s ever growing irrationalities and private commissions, and strangely enough, one of the few things she agreed upon with him. France was potentially dangerous.
“I wish to see inside,” she said. At least the cabin of the Lionheart would protect them from curious ears.
Barrons helped her climb the roll-away ladder to the cabin, his hands steadying her. Not that she needed the help, but she said nothing. Most of the Echelon didn’t know the limits of her endurance and strength, and she intended to keep it that way. Prancing across the rooftops of London, and slipping in and out of places where she didn’t want to be followed, gave a girl remarkable dexterity.
The door closed behind them and Mina ran her fingers along the flight console, resting her parasol in the corner. “I’m always in danger. More specifics, if you will.”
“It’s a theory,” Barrons said. “Why did Goethe die?”
She knew the answer to that, but she shrugged. “Who would know?”
“He opposed the suggested increase in the blood taxes as soon as the prince consort gave us the briefing note, and with the death of several of the prince consort’s pocket dukes, it’s clear that he’s losing power. Malloryn, Goethe, Lynch, and I were dismissive of the blood-tax bill. The prince consort knows he can’t push it past our blockade in Council, and if he wants to get his bills through, he’s going to have to remove some of the obstacles in his path.”
An intriguing thought. “You think he’s going after the Council?”
“All of us,” Barrons concurred with a tip of the head to her. “You don’t always vote as he wills.”
Only often enough to make the prince consort think her allegiances were sympathetic.
“I’m protected.” She had to be. Too many of her male relatives had tried to remove her over the years, threatened by the thought of a woman in power. “But thank you for the warning. I hadn’t thought of Goethe’s death in those terms.” Barrons’s body blocked her path, though she didn’t think it deliberate. “Was that everything?”
Barrons glanced through the glass, surveying the factory. Galloway’s group was farther away now, examining the semi-rigid construction of the pleasure cruiser. Tension etched itself across his broad shoulders. “Perhaps I simply wished to get you alone.”
“To warn me about dangerous plots?” Her voice held a teasing lightness to it.
Faint humor stirred in his expression, his right brow twitching. “No, Duchess. I was thinking of something far more interesting than that. Perhaps it’s the presence of the dirigible. Reminds me of the other night. Of…debts owed. And paid.”
“So you lured me here under false pretenses?” she replied, taking a step to the side when he took one toward her.
Barrons smiled, a lazy stretch of the mouth. “Would you have come if I’d told you I planned on kissing you?”
Yes. No. Her smile froze. “I’ve decided your kisses are bad for my health.”
“Precisely.” Another step had her pressing back against the far wall.
“Besides, the other night was different. I owed you a kiss, and a Duvall always pays their debts.”
“And last night?” The overwhelming presence of his body was palpable now. A whiff of bay rum came off him, lingering in her nostrils and making her mouth water, just a little.
“Barrons,” she warned.
“Last night,” he murmured. “You didn’t owe me anything.”
Mina ducked beneath his arm, bumping into the console. “Last night, I learned some rather interesting facts.”
“Have you decided what you’re going to do with that information?”
“Not yet,” she declared. Make of that what you will.
Barrons crossed his arms over his broad chest, those implacable black eyes boring a hole through her. He grunted and looked away. “Well, you’re predictable at least. A mere mention of a kiss and you’re suddenly throwing blackmail in my face.” His eyelids grew heavy, then a sidelong glance made her breath catch. “No talk of kissing then. No games, no duchess. Just you and me. Tell me what you think of Galloway’s plans to standardize air travel for the common people of England.”
“Why are you interested in my views?” she asked suspiciously.
“Because you interest me.” He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a brass hook on the wall. His crisp waistcoat was dark gray with thin cream pinstripes, cut to fit his broad shoulders and narrowing to define the leanness of his hips. An eyebrow arched. “We could always discuss the weather, if you prefer. Something mundane?”
Despite herself she was drawn. “I think Galloway is a solid investment, though I understand the risks involved. The rest of Europe is beginning to race headlong into the skies, following France and the colonies’ examples. Travel will be expensive at first, mostly first-class passengers, though I see a need—and a desire—for the common classes to seek passage in the future—and of course it would help significantly with long-haul freighting. One day, we’ll be able to board a dirigible in the morning and be in Manhattan City within a day. You mark my words.”
The console spread out before her, providing an incomprehensible display for the unlearned, but Mina had been reading Galloway’s design manuals for months. Here’s the switch for the boilers for the engines for extra speed… The deflation device for the envelope… She traced another switch. The ballonet air valve…
“You like the idea of flying.” His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned forward, examining the console over her shoulder. That large body surrounded her, leaving her desperately aware of how close he stood.
Flying. The sort of thing she’d dreamed of as a girl, when she first heard of France’s airships, until the death of her parents had cost her all of her naive fantasies. Still… Her fingers traced the sleek mahogany steering wheel for the horizontal and vertical stabilizers. “Do you know who I admired most as a girl?”
That piqued her interest. Her gaze traveled toward the Lionheart. The enormous gray envelope floated aloft, steel cables encircling it and holding the enclosed gondola beneath it. It was one of the dirigibles created for passenger use, rather than the closely guarded plans for a warship that she’d seen in the back offices of Galloway’s, where he was building an air fleet to keep the ravaging humanists of France at bay, should they attack. It was one of the prince consort’s ever growing irrationalities and private commissions, and strangely enough, one of the few things she agreed upon with him. France was potentially dangerous.
“I wish to see inside,” she said. At least the cabin of the Lionheart would protect them from curious ears.
Barrons helped her climb the roll-away ladder to the cabin, his hands steadying her. Not that she needed the help, but she said nothing. Most of the Echelon didn’t know the limits of her endurance and strength, and she intended to keep it that way. Prancing across the rooftops of London, and slipping in and out of places where she didn’t want to be followed, gave a girl remarkable dexterity.
The door closed behind them and Mina ran her fingers along the flight console, resting her parasol in the corner. “I’m always in danger. More specifics, if you will.”
“It’s a theory,” Barrons said. “Why did Goethe die?”
She knew the answer to that, but she shrugged. “Who would know?”
“He opposed the suggested increase in the blood taxes as soon as the prince consort gave us the briefing note, and with the death of several of the prince consort’s pocket dukes, it’s clear that he’s losing power. Malloryn, Goethe, Lynch, and I were dismissive of the blood-tax bill. The prince consort knows he can’t push it past our blockade in Council, and if he wants to get his bills through, he’s going to have to remove some of the obstacles in his path.”
An intriguing thought. “You think he’s going after the Council?”
“All of us,” Barrons concurred with a tip of the head to her. “You don’t always vote as he wills.”
Only often enough to make the prince consort think her allegiances were sympathetic.
“I’m protected.” She had to be. Too many of her male relatives had tried to remove her over the years, threatened by the thought of a woman in power. “But thank you for the warning. I hadn’t thought of Goethe’s death in those terms.” Barrons’s body blocked her path, though she didn’t think it deliberate. “Was that everything?”
Barrons glanced through the glass, surveying the factory. Galloway’s group was farther away now, examining the semi-rigid construction of the pleasure cruiser. Tension etched itself across his broad shoulders. “Perhaps I simply wished to get you alone.”
“To warn me about dangerous plots?” Her voice held a teasing lightness to it.
Faint humor stirred in his expression, his right brow twitching. “No, Duchess. I was thinking of something far more interesting than that. Perhaps it’s the presence of the dirigible. Reminds me of the other night. Of…debts owed. And paid.”
“So you lured me here under false pretenses?” she replied, taking a step to the side when he took one toward her.
Barrons smiled, a lazy stretch of the mouth. “Would you have come if I’d told you I planned on kissing you?”
Yes. No. Her smile froze. “I’ve decided your kisses are bad for my health.”
“Precisely.” Another step had her pressing back against the far wall.
“Besides, the other night was different. I owed you a kiss, and a Duvall always pays their debts.”
“And last night?” The overwhelming presence of his body was palpable now. A whiff of bay rum came off him, lingering in her nostrils and making her mouth water, just a little.
“Barrons,” she warned.
“Last night,” he murmured. “You didn’t owe me anything.”
Mina ducked beneath his arm, bumping into the console. “Last night, I learned some rather interesting facts.”
“Have you decided what you’re going to do with that information?”
“Not yet,” she declared. Make of that what you will.
Barrons crossed his arms over his broad chest, those implacable black eyes boring a hole through her. He grunted and looked away. “Well, you’re predictable at least. A mere mention of a kiss and you’re suddenly throwing blackmail in my face.” His eyelids grew heavy, then a sidelong glance made her breath catch. “No talk of kissing then. No games, no duchess. Just you and me. Tell me what you think of Galloway’s plans to standardize air travel for the common people of England.”
“Why are you interested in my views?” she asked suspiciously.
“Because you interest me.” He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a brass hook on the wall. His crisp waistcoat was dark gray with thin cream pinstripes, cut to fit his broad shoulders and narrowing to define the leanness of his hips. An eyebrow arched. “We could always discuss the weather, if you prefer. Something mundane?”
Despite herself she was drawn. “I think Galloway is a solid investment, though I understand the risks involved. The rest of Europe is beginning to race headlong into the skies, following France and the colonies’ examples. Travel will be expensive at first, mostly first-class passengers, though I see a need—and a desire—for the common classes to seek passage in the future—and of course it would help significantly with long-haul freighting. One day, we’ll be able to board a dirigible in the morning and be in Manhattan City within a day. You mark my words.”
The console spread out before her, providing an incomprehensible display for the unlearned, but Mina had been reading Galloway’s design manuals for months. Here’s the switch for the boilers for the engines for extra speed… The deflation device for the envelope… She traced another switch. The ballonet air valve…
“You like the idea of flying.” His hands settled on either side of her hips as he leaned forward, examining the console over her shoulder. That large body surrounded her, leaving her desperately aware of how close he stood.
Flying. The sort of thing she’d dreamed of as a girl, when she first heard of France’s airships, until the death of her parents had cost her all of her naive fantasies. Still… Her fingers traced the sleek mahogany steering wheel for the horizontal and vertical stabilizers. “Do you know who I admired most as a girl?”
