Lady of Devices

chapter 28



Claire followed the direction in her guidebook and located the ice rink in only ten minutes’ walk. What a miracle of technology such a simple thing was—a sheet of ice who knew how many inches thick, kept frozen by marvelous engines somewhere below. Upon it, skaters twirled on rented skates—including the Mopsies, whom she identified immediately by their shrieks of glee as they chased each other like waterbugs on blades.

It was apparent that the purchase of needle and thread on the way home would need to be followed by lessons in the homely arts of needlework. From the side of the rink Claire could see a row of lace drooping below the hems of Lizzie’s dress.

Someone cleared his throat quite close to her. “It’s quite a thing, isn’t it, to enjoy the pleasures of January at the end of July?”

Claire’s mouth went dry and instinctively she sidestepped. But there was no escaping him. Lord James Selwyn only followed. Unless she was prepared to make a scene in public, she would simply have to heap coals of fire on his head and be the soul of politeness.

“Lord James.”

“Lady Claire. This is an unexpected pleasure. Though perhaps that is unfair of me. I would expect to see you in few places other than the Crystal Palace, knowing the turn of your mind.”

Hmph. He knew less of the turns of her mind than Rosie the chicken, who was actually quite adept at divining what she wished to communicate. “Yes, we schoolgirls often come here to fill the gaps in our educations.”

He had the grace to pause and look down at her as if he really saw her. “I take it I am not forgiven.”

“That would assume you had engaged my mind enough to offend.”

“You seemed very offended when last we met. Exited my laboratory with precipitous haste, if I recall.”

“Your laboratory?”

“My money built it.”

“Ah yes. Your money.” She hoped Mrs. Morven had taken her advice about the twenty-five percent. “I trust you are satisfied with your new cook and housekeeper?”

“Mrs. Morven? That woman is a gem. A paragon. Her lemon soufflé could be presented to Her Majesty without shame.”

Claire recalled the lemon soufflé with a pang of homesickness—not so much for Wilton Crescent, but for her old life and the little pleasures she had completely taken for granted.

“I’m sure you miss her sadly.”

A presumptuous thing for him to say, but all too true. “Please give her my warmest greetings and let her know I am well.” It irked her to ask anything of him, but if he mentioned meeting her today, Mrs. Morven would be hurt if there were no message. She had sent a tube containing the governess story several days ago, and had received a relieved reply, along with a recipe for melted-chocolate milk—the very drink the governess used to make for Claire in the nursery long ago.

“I shall be happy to tell her,” Lord James said. “May I—”

“Excuse me, Lord James. Lizzie! Maggie!” She leaned over the barrier and waved them down. “Have you enjoyed yourselves?”

“Oooh, Lady, it’s the most wonderful thing, skating is,” Maggie panted. “I can go backward. See?” And she wriggled—resembling nothing so much as Julia Wellesley in a new set of petticoats—and began to move in reverse, her skates carving parentheses in the ice.

Lizzie grasped her hands and together they began to move faster. “Look, Lady! Ent it grand?”

“Yes, very grand.” Claire followed their progress, walking along the barricade. “But I must ask you to return to earth and hand in your skates. The others will be joining us shortly.”

Reluctantly, with fits and starts and several demonstrations of skill, the girls got their skates turned in and their new patent-leather shoes buckled on. And all the while Lord James did not leave. In fact, Claire had allowed the girls’ reluctance to go on far longer than she would have had he not been there, expecting his impatience to get the better of him and drive him away.

What could he be playing at, tolerating the Mopsies with such a fixed smile?

He must be up to something. And in her experience, it could not be good. She must get rid of him at once. For Andrew to find out her secrets would mean a personal loss. For Lord James to discover them would mean swift, certain, and irrevocable social disaster, to the point where she would be received by no one, not even her own mother.

“Girls, come along. We will walk this promenade and keep an eye open for Mr. Tigg and Willie.”

“And who might these charming young ladies be?” Lord James’s tone sounded so affable that it must be false.

The girls seemed to realize all at once that this gentleman was not just passing by, but seemed to be trying to make himself one of their party. And for a wonder, they buttoned their lips and regarded him with silent suspicion.

Snouts’s training had been thorough.

“These are my charges,” Claire said with admirable economy. “Margaret, Elizabeth, make your curtsies to Lord James.”

Maggie turned big eyes on her sister that plainly said, Cooooo, a real lordship, before both girls bobbed obediently.

“Your charges?” Lord James repeated. “Do you mean to tell me you are their ... governess?”

“I am.”

“And a fine one,” Lizzie said without a trace of Bow’s bells in her voice.

“We quite like her.” Maggie took her sister’s hand. “We’re ever so hard on governesses.”

Claire struggled not to gape, and then struggled even more with the urge to box their ears for playacting when the moment was so serious. She reached down and took Lizzie’s other hand with rather more firmness than necessary.

“So nice to see you, Lord James. Good day.”

“Just one moment, Lady Cl—”

“Come along, girls!”

“Wait!” he boomed just as one of those silences peculiar to large crowds fell all at once. Reddening, he collected himself. “Please, just a moment.”

If she did not listen to him, he would likely stalk her the length of the arcade. “Yes, my lord?”

He glanced to either side, but people had gone about their business. “I would have hoped for a more solicitous environment to say what I must say, but you are an elusive quarry. It seems I must take my opportunities where I find them.”

“You have something you wish to say to me?” She had quite a number of things she wished to say to him, but not in front of the girls. If one wanted models of good behavior, one must be a model of good behavior oneself.

“Yes. I—well, I—” Flushing again, he chewed the lower edge of his moustache. Good heavens. He was as edgy as a man about to propose. Not that she had any experience along those lines except for what she’d seen in the flickers.

“Cat got your tongue?” Lizzie enquired.

“He’s got something stuck in his throat,” Maggie agreed. “Lozenge?” She held up a hard cherry drop, somewhat fuzzy from being carted about in her pocket all day.

Lord James looked down at them like Zeus from Olympus. “Little girls should be seen and not heard.”

If Claire had heard that once, she’d heard it a thousand times, and every time it irritated her more. Girls should certainly be heard. It was their voices that the world was missing.

“Really, Lord James, I’ll thank you to leave the girls’ upbringing to me.” Her tone could have been chipped right out of the sheet of ice behind them. “As it happens, I’m a great believer in little girls being heard, if they have something to say. Miss Margaret was merely offering to help.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” Maggie sounded very pleased.

“You’re not a nice man,” Lizzie told him, eyes narrowed. “You made the Lady go all frosty. You really don’t want to do that.”

“Great Caesar’s ghost.” Lord James had finally lost his patience. He glared at Claire. “You’re as poor a governess as you are a scientist. All right. I’ll say what I have to say, and that is this. I will offer you a thousand pounds not to take the position in Andrew’s laboratory.”

She could not possibly have heard him correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

“All right, then, if you will stoop to bargaining. Fifteen hundred. I know your position, my dear young lady, and that isn’t the kind of sum you can turn down.”

The rage came bubbling up from under her corset and into her throat. Was it possible for a man to be any more insulting? “Isn’t it?”

If she said one more word, her façade would split and she would scream blue invective at him, right here, right now. The glass above their heads would crack and rain down upon him and it would serve him right for treating her in this high-handed, criminal, cruel manner.

Oh, if she were a lady in society instead of name how she would glory in crushing him to social powder under one kid heel! She would make it so that no one in their circles would receive him ever again. Even the King and Queen would frown when his name was mentioned. If she were—if only—

“Lady?” Maggie tugged her hand. “Look, there’s Tigg and Willie with Mr. Malvern.”

“Mr. Malvern?” James lifted his head like a wolf scenting the sheepdog.

Claire pulled in as deep a breath as she could, feeling her corset cinch her sides like the twin hands of caution and propriety. “Yes. He has been such a gentleman today. We’ve spent most of the afternoon together deepening our acquaintance and he has told us all about locomotives and steam.”

Ever so sweetly, she smiled at him and allowed the girls to drag her away.