Rust and Steam Page 2

  Reason had dictated she set him free, allow their paths to diverge so that he might find a woman without an agenda that could—at any time—run counter to his own. There was nothing to do, save continue along the course she’d set for herself.

  “Open the door.” His voice grew more forceful, and she could tell Ben wasn’t going to walk away. He deserved better from her than a wall of silence. But of all the times for his gentlemanly honor to depart and more primitive instincts to assert themselves! Ought she be proud? Or resentful?

  His absence from the restaurant car would be remarked upon, linked to her own sudden exit. She would be labeled a loose woman. But as she no longer required an unblemished reputation to snag an unsuspecting target and was instead embarking upon a career that would see her labeled an eccentric old maid, perhaps it no longer mattered?

  A final guzzle of the bubbly wine sent a fizzy rush of false courage through her veins. She set the bottle aside, tucked her reticule into a corner of the compartment, and stood. If her steps wobbled a touch, it was the fault of the train that rocked upon its tracks.

  The ticking of clockwork once again caught her ear. It seemed… closer. Was it all in her imagination, an effect of too much champagne on an empty stomach? It must be.

  She cracked open the compartment’s door and met Ben’s dark gaze. Aether, how she’d missed him. His brown eyes seemed to crackle and spark as they stared down at her. A shame she must discourage their heat. “By morning, my reputation will run in the gutters like so much sludge, especially if Lady Gatwick decides to put it about that I passed the night entertaining a man in my compartment. You shouldn’t be here. Not if you wish to secure Lady Delphinia’s hand. Return to your soup and you might yet salvage your courtship.” She hated each word that she forced from her mouth.

  “Let me in,” he all but growled. “I’m not leaving until you tell me exactly how a man like Hugh Krause has made your acquaintance.”

  “Is your inquiry driven by professional or romantic jealousy?”

  His eyes narrowed. “A topic that ought to be discussed privately. Let me in, or I will spend the night guarding your door.”

  “Guarding?” Tipping her head, she pretended to give the idea serious consideration, but already her heart was fluttering at the prospect of—

  Of what? Another assignation? Yes, that was exactly what drove the heat rising inside her, despite the fact that Ben looked more inclined to snarl and snap rather than bestow one of his delightfully wicked kisses. But perhaps he might yet be convinced otherwise. Not that she was opposed to the idea of a few well-placed nips.

  A slow, controlled intake of breath warned her that Ben was losing his patience.

  Swinging the door open, she waved him inside. He wasted no time. With two long steps, he brushed past her, dropping a cloth-wrapped dinner roll beside her champagne bottle on the table. “With complements from my sister.”

  She fell back against the closed—and locked—door, mute. All she could do was stare—her mouth dry—and marvel at how his broad shoulders filled the confined space. There was barely enough room for both of them to stand within the compartment. With only a single chair, one of them would have to sit on the bed.

  Bed.

  An article of furniture they’d not had access to before. Though the chaise longue had served its purpose, she couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to disrobe at leisure, to explore Ben’s form without fear of discovery, to curl against his side, basking in the glow of post-coital pleasure.

  “Alice?” He tipped her chin upward with a single finger until her eyes met his. “All those questions about clockwork and steam engines were more than an intense interest in my business, weren’t they?”

  She couldn’t deny it.

  “I should have known.” He drew in a deep breath. “Tell me what you’ve invented, and that you’ve not divulged the nature of your invention to one Hugh Krause. His business practices are beyond unscrupulous.”

  She sucked in a shocked breath that shattered her pleasant—if inappropriate—immodest thoughts. “You know him?”

  “Unfortunately.” Ben’s lips pulled into a frown. “If you wish to sell your design—whatever it is—I’ll double his offer.”

  Krause’s offer had involved an obscene amount of money. But as a wealthy—if soon to be disgraced—heiress, the contraption she’d painstakingly designed and built was worth far more to her as a gift for the Duke of Avesbury. She’d always planned to complete her task as a societal liaison, then—once her husband was disposed of—pursue her true interest: engineering.

  If her device met the duke’s approval, if she could persuade him to sponsor her application to the Rankine Institute, then perhaps her career might be accelerated rather than derailed. She longed to once again bask in the good graces of the Queen’s agents.

  To date, she’d never provided anyone—save the duke—with any details of her invention. How Herr Krause had caught word of it was a fact she’d been unable to discover. Then again, she’d not been discreet in the early phases of her work, while fiddling about with rough ideas for the various uses of clockwork and chemicals.

  “It’s not for sale,” Alice said, twisting her face at the thought of Krause ever laying his sweaty, grasping hands on her zoetomatic. “He’s just another man who doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  Ben’s face froze, and his hand dropped. “Understood.” Eyes averted, he reached past her for the door handle, and she caught a whiff of spice and musk. “I won’t bother you again.”

  “Not you.” She pressed her palm to his firm chest. “I didn’t mean you.”

  His lips flattened into a thin line. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. “I thought we had something special. I wanted to marry you, even before our time together at the ball.”

  “We did.” The lump in her throat threatened to choke off her words. For months, she’d looked forward to their wedding and had selfishly refused to disengage when the accusations against Ben were lifted. Stupid of her to think the Duchess of Avesbury would consider an accomplished seduction a reason to allow Alice to marry. “It’s just that… It’s complicated.”

  A loud ticking sound filled the compartment. Could he hear that? She opened her mouth to ask, then snapped it shut. No need to let him think she was insane.

  “Complicated.” His eyes burned. “I love you. You once professed to return the sentiment. You enjoyed our activities, did you not?”

  Her face was hot enough to set a match alight. “I did.” The understatement of the century. Her entire world had shifted and rearranged itself that night.

  His eyebrow quirked, waiting, no doubt, for her to utter a reasonable explanation.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m not who you think I am.” Eyes wide, she clapped a hand over her mouth.

  Aether, even that much information was a reckless admission.

  Chapter Three

  He barked a laugh, tugging at his collar. “What are you, a spy?”

  The enclosed carriage was unusually warm even for the month of August. Were they engaged—as they ought to be—he’d happily rid himself of his coat, tug on that pink ribbon at her back, and tumble them both onto the mattress behind him. A hasty coupling in the dark room of a manor house had only whetted his appetite, and he longed to explore—at leisure—a far larger expanse of bare skin than he’d managed to glimpse in the moonlight.

  But the sharp intake of her breath and the bright flush upon her face took him by surprise, and he set aside his fantasy. Alarmed, her eyes darted about the compartment, unable to look directly at him, but unable to settle anywhere else.

  A joke. His comment was a joke intended purely to lighten the situation. To imply something so utterly ridiculous that whatever secret she struggled to reveal would be easily pushed into the light.

  A spy? Impossible. Alice wasn’t one to dance about a topic, to mince words or dissemble. Then again, an unmarried, young lady of the ton didn’t trave
l alone. Ever. As noted, by morning her reputation would be in tatters. He wasn’t even in a position to assist her in its repair, for marrying him—a lower class upstart—would only shred it further.

  If she would have him.

  “Not exactly,” she whispered.

  Her eyes had finally settled, fixing upon the cravat tied about his neck, the very first item she’d removed the night she seduced him. Was she thinking of trying it again? Would he let her? He might. Most thought him a bloodthirsty business man but, in her hands, he was putty. And wasn’t that just the point? Had a woman been sent to relieve him of trade secrets? That thought tightened his stomach.

  Somewhere inside the compartment, a clock ticked—rather loudly—as if to suggest that their time together might well hinge on his next words. Then fell silent again. Odd, but irrelevant.

  He struggled to recall the specifics of what he’d told her about his work. Nothing of any significant value that she could have passed to Krause. Yet here they were. Had Krause forced her somehow into a collusion, into a seduction? His stomach twisted. Had all that passed between them been lies?

  A muscle jumped in his jaw.

  “Not exactly,” he repeated. “But you’re not who I think you are?” Ben crossed his arms and stared down at Alice. He wasn’t certain what to think. Upon reflection, perhaps their courtship had proceeded too swiftly, too smoothly. A romance that had not encountered a single rut the entire three months they’d known each other. Not until she’d cut him off with a terse note delivered to him by a steam butler. “Clearly. Unless you plan to offer an explanation, it would be best if you step away from the door and let me go.” He frowned, reluctant to set an ultimatum, but enough was enough. “But I won’t be back. I’ve no interest in foolish games.”

  “A moment.” She brushed past him in a rustle of silk, ruffles and lace. Though he was momentarily distracted by the narrowness of the thin, pink ribbon that held the bodice of her dress closed, there was no mistaking her intent when she reached for the champagne.

  He was faster.

  She cried out, objecting as he snatched her crutch away.

  “No.” Holding the bottle behind his back, he shook his head slowly. “No false courage. Let’s start with your name. Are you not Lady Alice Hemsworth?”

  “I am.” With a sigh, she sank down onto the chair. “I’ve told you no falsehoods, merely withheld… a part of myself.” Lifting the dinner roll, she dropped it into her lap, picking at its crust and proceeding to eviscerate the hapless item.

  A delaying tactic that spoke of nerves and reluctance.

  Silent, he waited.

  Staring at the bread crumbs, she cleared her throat. “I was asked to gain your trust, to determine if you had any cause to take action against the British government.”

  “Me?” He snorted. Though he was often in negotiations with foreign business men and from time to time might grumble about politics, he had no cause—or desire—to betray his country. He had himself, after all, turned Krause over to the authorities. Wait. She worked for the Crown? “My loyalty was called into question? By whom? Why?”

  “She never gave me details. Something to do with foreign business contacts.” Alice lifted her gaze to his. “That’s all I know.”

  “She.”

  “Please,” Alice begged. “I’m sworn to silence.”

  Alice couldn’t possibly be referring to the Queen, could she? He took a step back. “So it was all a ruse. You sacrificed your virginity on behalf of…” He lifted his eyebrows.

  “It was no sacrifice.” Her face flamed. “I was told to disengage. That you had been found not guilty. I learned I was to be presented with a new name—a new target—the following day. But I didn’t want to move on. I thought, perhaps, if we’d… if I’d been compromised…”

  Picking his jaw up off the floor, he finished her thought. “That you could, what, keep me?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You planned to marry me—a mere commoner—then carry on with your activities?” As he spoke, his voice rose until he was all but shouting. “Seducing other men behind my back at the Queen’s command?”

  “No! Never! I would never behave in such a manner.” Her voice matched his own outrage, and she tossed aside the ruined bread, jumping to her feet. Crumbs fell to the floor. “I’d fallen in love with you. But, yes, I did—do—hope to still be of use to my Queen and country.”

  He gaped as pieces of his world came unglued and dropped to the ground with the crumbs. Ben struggled to imagine where—how—they now fit into his life. If at all. “How?”

  Alice dragged in a deep breath. “A married societal liaison is, upon occasion, permitted to advance her career by training with and serving as a member of the Queen’s agents.”

  Queen’s agents. He’d heard the speculation about a select group of men trained in all manner of scientific fields—biological, chemical, mechanical, and so on—who were employed to keep the nation safe from unwanted interference in such technologies. Alice was one of them?

  “As a wife—and eventually a mother—I would have, of course, kept close to home.” She squirmed on her chair. “But such a path is closed to me now. The day after our…encounter, I was dishonorably dismissed for my actions. I’ve but one chance to resume my career. I’ve an audience with a high-ranking individual who might be convinced to sponsor my enrollment at the Rankine Institute.”

  “The engineering school?” His eyebrows drew together. “Insofar as I am aware, female applicants are unwelcome.”

  “Unwelcome, perhaps. But I’ve learned that one woman has completed a course of study and graduated with honors.”

  “And you intend to be the second.”

  Alice drew herself up straight. “I do.”

  He stared at her, his gut churning with regret. Not because she wished to pursue an engineering degree, but because she had not thought to confide in him that she harbored such a dream. He had to ask. “Why—as you profess to have fallen in love with me—did you turn me away?” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “Did you think so little of me, that you thought I would prevent you from pursuing your own dreams?”

  “You courted me for my social status, for my ability to introduce you to members of the ton, not for my clockwork skills.” She glanced away. “Besides, how could you ever forgive me for so great a betrayal? For happily flirting as I led you by your cravat toward a prison sentence?”

  Again her eyes fell upon his throat. The corner of his mouth quirked upward. She still wanted him. “I will admit to being rather miffed at your lack of trust, moreso at your willingness to let me court Lady Delphinia without protest.”

  She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “You were rather quick to perch in her parlor.”

  “Perch?” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t perch, and I’m not a traitor. And I’ve no objection to your designs upon pursuing an engineering degree or to your desire to work for the Queen’s agents.” Rather than despising the idea, he rather admired it. It took nerves of steel to buck the status quo and strike out on one’s own. The two of them would make a fine pair, refusing to knuckle under to the demands society tried to place upon them.

  “You don’t?”

  “None.” He took a step closer, letting the wool of his trousers brush against the silk of her skirts. They stood mere inches apart now. The pulse at her neck jumped, a very satisfying response, for his own heart now thumped harder. Was he truly ready to throw aside every plan he’d made for Lady Delphinia? Indeed, he was. “Would marriage to me still be an impediment to your plans?”

  “Not exactly.” Her words came out on a breath of champagne-sweetened air. Her fingers wrapped about his cravat, pulling him closer still. “Am I forgiven for my error in judgment?”

  “Mostly.” He let his hands fall upon her waist. Dipping his head, he brushed his lips softly across hers. A final chance for her to push him away.

  Instead, she parted her lips and gave a tug, mo
aning as he deepened their kiss. He yanked her hips against him, letting her feel how much he still desired her. Arms twining now about his neck, she crushed her soft breasts against his chest and slipped her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his own. He tasted champagne. Could one grow drunk on a kiss? For he certainly felt unbalanced. Reasoned thought evaporated with the steam that welled between them where their bodies touched, and he found his hands—as if of their own accord—bunching the fabric of her gown at her hips as blood rushed through his veins.

  The train rattled and clanked over a stretch of poorly laid rail, throwing them off balance and against the wall. The jarring movement had restarted the ticking he’d heard earlier. Her project? Recalled to reason, he loosed his hands and let her skirts fall. Carnal activities needed to wait.

  He brushed his thumb over the soft pink of her cheek. “Forgiven. Now, tell me what it is Krause so desperately pursues. I must have something to do with your mechanical inclinations.” An informed summation. Krause would have no interest—well, no hope—in courting such a high-born woman as Lady Alice.

  Ben himself had—to hear the gossips—far overstepped his place. An entrepreneur reaching for a societal rung too far above his head. They’d be right. He’d wanted to wed the daughter of a peer. Before today, he’d hoped for nothing more than an entrée to inner circles, convincing himself he could be content with the likes of Lady Delphinia. Except it was clear Lady Alice had stolen his heart.

  And the notion that he would be wed to a spy was more an aphrodisiac than a deterrent.

  “It’s hours upon hours until we reach London,” she said. “Can we talk about him later, perhaps while lying down, after… testing the bed?”

  He laughed. “Tempting as that offer is, I wish to see this marvel you’ve constructed first.” It was the only way to determine if Krause presented a true threat. The man was unscrupulous, and pains might have to be taken to discourage him.