“Of course you’re not! You’re stunning, exasperating, and occasionally overwhelming. And quite enthusiastic in twisting my meaning. When did I reject you? I thought this was you turning me out onto the streets. Did you not just roust me?”
“Mr Lefoux, you signed on to my crew knowing that it was for one mission. I assumed, given your disappearance and lack of communication since India, that our business arrangement had terminated. You must understand, under those circumstances, that you secretly installing a specimen tank in my hold comes as somewhat of a surprise!”
Rue’s voice had steadily risen. However, it was only on that last line that she realised they had an audience. A croquet match was paused in play to watch a lady of the realm yell roundly at her apparent paramour. At which juncture “specimen tank in my hold” took on an entirely euphemistic meaning. Rue’s face burned.
Quesnel stayed calm. “Oh, no, my darling girl, certainly not! I’ve no intention of abandoning my position as long as you wish me to stay. I love The Spotted Custard. She’s a marvellous ship. Besides, if you’re assuming I’m leaving, why not the Tunstells as well? They only agreed to one trip, but they aren’t going anywhere.”
He gestured behind her to where Percy, Primrose, and several decklings stood watching the show, rather as if they were Wimbledon spectators.
Rue was getting flustered. She wasn’t certain what they were talking about any more: Quesnel’s position under her as chief engineer… or some other amorphous position the details of which – who was under whom – had yet to be determined.
He took her hand. Just like Quesnel to play to an audience. He knew she now couldn’t do anything dramatic, like slap him. “I’m sorry I had to leave unexpectedly. I’m sorry about the tank in the hold but I assure you it’s necessary and explainable. Just not right now. Later? Tonight even, in private? Please, Rue, trust me.”
His hand was warm and strong – and shaking a little bit. His eyes were big compelling pansies of promise and Rue found it all exceedingly annoying. How dare he actually be upset about this, and how dare she worry about his feelings when her own were at risk. And she was in the right!
“I’m sure you can, but right now I’ll settle for what you and Percy were arguing about.”
Quesnel’s winning smile faded.
Rue pursed her lips. “I will get the whole story from the decklings, you realise? You were arguing in public, loudly.”
Quesnel sighed. “I might, just possibly, have published a paper with the Royal Society about the discovery of the weremonkeys.”
“First?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Without including Percy as co-author?”
“I shared with Mrs Featherstonehaugh. But, no, not with Professor Tunstell.”
“No wonder he’s angry with you. That’s incalculably rude.”
“I did think he had already published with the Board of Associated Supernatural Studies or I would have included him. Without a doubt I would.”
“Whose name was first?” Rue raised a hand. “No, don’t answer that. I do not want to get involved. Academics!”
Percy was livid because Quesnel had scooped his discovery. And it wasn’t even Quesnel’s field. He was an inventor. He was supposed to report on new things he had created not found. Frankly, the entirety of the Rights of Discovery and Reportage should have gone to Mrs Featherstonehaugh. Although it was difficult for a lady to be taken seriously in these matters. Nevertheless, if Quesnel was going to co-author any paper on weremonkeys, he ought to have included Percy.
“For a smart man, Mr Lefoux, you can be an insensitive blighter.” Rue was not one for crass language unless the occasion warranted it.
Quesnel was taken aback.
Rue prodded him in the chest with two fingers. “You know what your character flaw is, Mr Lefoux?” The way she said his name made it sound like an insult. “You are not meant to be taken seriously, and yet you will go about seriously mucking about in everyone else’s lives.”
Quesnel’s eyes narrowed. “That’s rich coming from you.”
Rue sucked in a breath. Her scalp prickled and her eyes stung. “You’re absolutely right. Neither of us should be taken seriously. And how can we build any kind of relationship on that?”
“Are we still talking about my being your chief engineer?” A smile teased about his lips.
Rue decided that her only means of keeping herself from getting hurt by this man was not to take him at all seriously. She took a deep breath, leaned forward, and kissed him softly, right on those still-smiling lips. In front of half of London.
Quesnel blinked at her.
Ha, thought Rue, mull that one over, you little traitor. “You think you’re so good with people, Quesnel, but you’re better off with the machines. You owe Percy an apology.”
Quesnel looked surprised and then petulant.
“We will figure out what you owe me later.” Rue said that to see if she could get his expression to change.