Rust and Steam

by Anne Renwick

  “Of marriage?” Her heart began to race again, this time with anticipation. “Are you certain?” Her eyes flicked to Herr Krause. “I don’t anticipate this becoming a regular occurrence, but—”

  “Lady Alice Hemsworth, before any further interruptions present themselves, will you do me the honor of promising to become my wife?”

  “Yes.” Her heart pounded. “Yes, yes, yes.” She caught his face between her hands and kissed him. Deeply and passionately as love welled in her heart.

  Herr Krause groaned. With a gasp, she pulled away. “We could celebrate, except—”

  Ben caught her lips for another brief kiss. “We will celebrate. But later. Krause can’t be found inside your compartment. Better if he’s found trussed and unconscious within his own. We’ll keep watch until we reach London. I’ve a feeling that presenting your prisoner to the Duke of Avesbury will do much to strengthen your consideration for an eventual position within the Queen’s agents.”

  “I expect it will.” She beamed, every fiber of her being suffused with love. If only she could show him just how much. Alas, they had a body to drag down a corridor.

  Chapter Five

  Krause wasn’t a large man. But—though Ben was rapidly recovering—whatever drug the German had loaded within the clockwork beetle’s assassination needle, left him feeling as if he’d spent a week in bed subsisting on weak tea and broth. As such, he couldn’t simply toss the man’s limp form over his shoulder and haul him from carriage to carriage.

  Though grateful Krause’s villainy had brought them back together, his presence was now an obstacle for all the plans Ben had made for the compartment’s mattress. Disappointing, but there would be time enough for that another day.

  Rolling onto his stomach, he retrieved his pistol, then pushed to his feet and tucked the weapon into his waistband. Not a chance he’d give Krause another opportunity to do them harm.

  Alice snatched up the key she’d pulled from Krause’s pocket. “His room key.” Ben held out a hand and helped her to her feet. After shaking out her champagne-stained skirts, she lifted a hand to her hair. Half-pinned, half-loose, all of it was a mad tangle. Never had she looked so beautiful. He was utterly besotted. “Shall we?” she asked, hand on the door handle. “The train will soon reach Newcastle, where we’re likely to draw an unwanted amount of attention.”

  “And further tarnish your reputation?” He let a corner of his mouth quirk upward. Life with Alice would be anything but dull.

  “I do intend to restore it, beginning with an extravagant wedding with hundreds of guests. No one will wish to miss the event of the Season. Not only will that pacify my mother, it will give my father something to grumble about while he secretly rejoices that I will at last be safely wed. At the wedding breakfast, you will charm your way into the clubs and offices of the ton, and I will put on display my finest manners.”

  Ben barked a laugh. “All while wishing you could retire to your laboratory.”

  “Of course.” She grinned. “But first, we have a would-be assassin to cage.” She opened the door and stuck her head out. Her voice fell to a whisper. “All clear.”

  Towing the German by his collar, Ben followed her into the hallway, uncaring if the man acquired yet more scrapes and bruises. He deserved every last one. Already, Alice had tested the key in the adjoining compartment’s door. She glanced at him and gave a quick shake of her head.

  The key opened none of the compartments. There was no choice but to cross into the next carriage or to drag the German back to Alice’s compartment.

  He’d heard rumor that an improved gangway was under design, one that would facilitate movement between carriages while the train was in motion, a feature desperately required were the swift steam trains to compete for customers with the slower, but more luxurious, dirigibles overhead. Unfortunately, such passages had yet to be installed.

  “We should go back,” he suggested. Caring a limp body across the gangway would be tricky. They might well drop Krause. Not that Ben would much mind if the villain were to fall beneath the iron wheels. It was Alice’s safety that concerned him.

  Lips pressed into a grim, determined line, Alice shook her head. “We can do this. Let me help.”

  Resigned, Ben opened the door. Click, click. Click click. Cinders stung the skin of his face, and cool night air rushed inward, whipping at Alice’s hair and gown. Moonlight served as their only illumination.

  “Careful,” Ben said through gritted teeth. “Hold his ankles while I lift him over the coupling. Be careful not to catch your gown on the chains.” Chains, though flexible, were a poor substitute for sturdy railings. “Drop him if you must.”

  “So noted.” She bent to catch at Krause’s ankles. “Swiftly, please,” Alice said, her voice strained by the effort of lifting the man’s dead weight.

  Together, they lurched and pitched into the next sleeping carriage. Thunk. Alice dropped Krause’s feet and hurried forward, to try the key at the next door. No good. A second door.

  Click. She glanced up, triumphant, and pushed the door inward.

  “Halt!” a male voice called from within.

  Ben dropped Krause’s head—which made a satisfying thud upon the floor—and rushed to her rescue, hand upon his pistol. But it seemed the two were already acquainted, though the man made no move to lower the odd-looking weapon clutched in his fist.

  “Mr. Jackson?” Alice gasped. “What are you doing on this train?”

  A stunned silence followed. “I would ask the same of you.” Mr. Jackson’s eyes flicked to Ben. “I was informed Mr. Leighton was no longer… of interest. That you were… no longer in service.”

  Another Queen’s agent.

  “You were informed correctly,” Alice replied, her voice haughty. “I do intend to remedy the second situation, a task with which Mr. Leighton is assisting me. Herr Krause attacked me in an attempt to secure a proprietary item that I am conveying to the Duke of Avesbury. We subdued him and thought to stash his unconscious form in his own compartment until the proper authorities could be contacted in London.”

  Slowly, Mr. Jackson lowered his weapon. “A happy coincidence, then. I was tasked with following the German myself, to determine his precise interests.” He waved a hand at the numerous papers which were strewn across the bed. “Of which there are many. With such evidence, it is convenient that Herr Krause is bound and subdued. He’s headed for a dank prison cell.”

  Ben sniffed an opportunity. “Coordinating your reports to the duke seems a wise approach,” he suggested. “If Mr. Jackson is willing to detail your involvement in subduing Herr Krause, perhaps he might be permitted to take custody?” Thus freeing them from his care and allowing them to enjoy the remainder of the night.

  Alice slid him a knowing look. “An acceptable compromise,” she said. “I’ve an appointment with the duke tomorrow morning at eight. If you care to accompany me, you might make your report in person. I’m afraid, however, that you must then depart His Grace’s office. The information I must pass to the duke is relevant to your case, but confidential.”

  It took great effort not to smile with admiration at Alice’s coolheaded manipulation of the agent.

  “Thank you, my lady.” Relief washed over Mr. Jackson’s face. “I would welcome the opportunity.”

  “Excellent.” Ben dragged the German into his compartment and dropped him none too gently upon the floor. “He’s begun to stir. You have sufficient restraints?”

  Mr. Jackson nodded, then lifted his odd weapon. “Among other options. Rest assured, he will not escape.”

  As the door slammed closed behind them, Ben pulled a grinning Alice into his arms. “Nicely done. If the duke does not recognize what an asset you would be to the Queen’s agents, then he’s a fool.”

  She grinned. “We make a good team, you and I. Perhaps—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “While I’m happy to assist you whenever necessary, I’ve no interest in becoming a spy, only in marrying
one.”

  “Is that so?” She raised up on her toes and nibbled at his jaw, all the while unbuttoning his waistcoat. “Any interest in bedding one?”

  No further invitation was necessary. With a low growl, Ben grabbed her by the hand and dragged her down the corridor.

  Wrapped in each other’s arms, they tumbled through the doorway and fell against the wall. Pushing the tumbled tangle of hair from her face, Ben proceeded to kiss her senseless. Aether, he felt so right. Only an insistent and relentless dinging that she knew would not stop made her push him away.

  “Watson,” she gasped, waving.

  Forgotten in the scuffle, Watson still hid underneath the bed. He’d ventured forth to stare up at them with gleaming green eyes above vibrating wire whiskers.

  “The zoetomatic objects to our activities?” He nipped at her neck. “That’s a problematic feature that must be adjusted.”

  “He is rather protective. Let me turn him off.”

  Ben stepped back and cocked his head. “On the contrary.” He shrugged his waistcoat from his shoulders and tossed it aside. “Finish showing me his many features and tricks, so that I might fully appreciate the alluring mind of the woman who has finally agreed to marry me.”

  A faint blush crept onto her cheeks. Not at the flattery, but because—while he spoke—his fingers were deftly unbuttoning his shirt, revealing muscles she’d only before felt. The room in which she’d first given herself to him had been—regrettably—rather dark. Her mouth went dry. “A lecture? You expect coherent speech from me while you—”

  His shirt fell open. A knowing grin curved his lips. “Be brief.”

  “He follows commands programmed into a cipher cartridge: model B257.” She forced the words from her lips, not once looking at the zoetomatic. “And performs a few parlor tricks.” She swallowed, tore her gaze away and issued a series of commands. “Watson. Spin.” Watson spun in a circle. “Watson. Sit.” He sat. “Watson. Beg.” The metallic hedgehog straightened, balancing on his hind legs, front paws curled to his chest.

  “Adorable,” Ben said drily. His shirt landed atop the compartment’s chair, and she had to remind herself to breathe. “But I’ve not yet seen anything that warrants sending an attack, clockwork beetle after you.”

  “Ah,” she said, holding perfectly still as Ben’s deft fingers turned their attention to the lacings that ran down her back. “Let me show you.” Her bodice fell loose and slid free. He was wasting no time. “Or it could wait.”

  “No,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t stop.”

  The tapes and buttons and hooks would take him a few more minutes, and she did wish to show him the hedgehog’s most technologically advanced elements. “Watson. Come.”

  The metallic hedgehog waddled across the floor to bump against her stocking-clad ankle, and she bent—interrupting Ben’s attentions—to scoop it from the floor. “Watson. Prepare and assess.” A number of the hedgehog’s spines retracted and a multitude of oddly formed wire antennae extended to take their place.

  “These probes…” Ben lifted an eyebrow. His fingers tugged and pulled at her gown.

  “Analyze a variety of airborne chemical components. Twenty-two separate molecules.” A faint whirring emanated from Watson as a variety of gears within turned, sampling the environment. “An alarm sounds if there’s any threat to his handler. Or—if all is safe—Watson will whistle.”

  Ben’s fingers stilled. “All within this tiny creature?” Doubt mixed with awe. His fingers flicked, and her skirts fell free. “That explains his insistent ringing when he detected the beetle climbing on your skirts.”

  “If only I’d activated him sooner.” Alice twisted in his arms, holding Watson between them. “Miniaturization is my goal. A societal liaison ought to be able to carry about a personal zoetomatic without suspicion that it is anything other than a silly toy.” She paused. “After our attack, I’m hoping to install a small rod that might shock an attacker. There’s not enough power to fully disable a man, but it might be enough of a distraction to allow its handler a chance to escape.”

  “You’ve been in such a situation?” Anger flared in his eyes.

  “Once or twice.” She did not wish to speak of it. Not at this particular moment. Another time. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  Ben frowned, but he let the topic slide when Watson emitted a clear, high-pitched sound. A whistle.

  “All clear.” She grinned proudly.

  Ben tipped his head. “With all the internal mechanics necessary to perform these many tasks, what powers all this activity? For you’ve fed it not so much as a single lump of coal.”

  “Ah, and therein lies Herr Krause’s interest.” She tapped out a code on the zoetomatic’s spines and the curved, interlocking sections of its back retracted to reveal a hollow interior.

  “And a concealed compartment,” Ben said. “Most impressive.” He lifted Watson from her hands and moved away to hold the zoetomatic closer to the Lucifer lamp bolted to the wall. He peered inside. “Is that… No.” His head snapped up.

  “It is.” Warm satisfaction spread through her. “They said it could not be done.”

  “Yet you’ve managed it. A miniaturized Markoid battery. Most impressive. Is that what Krause wanted so very badly?”

  “Along with the chemical analytic devices? Yes. The battery has its faults, and I’m afraid I’ve reached a bit of an impasse. I require a more in-depth understanding of cutting-edge mechanical engineering theory. Not to mention colleagues. I tried to speak with Professor Armstrong at the University of Edinburgh, but was turned away.”

  “Ah, that explains your unaccompanied excursion.” Ben leaned closer. “How on earth did you escape to Scotland unaccompanied?”

  A sly smile stretched her lips. “My Aunt Ellie makes a wonderful co-conspirator. But even she can’t suppress all the London gossips.”

  Ben grinned in response. “I’m looking forward to meeting this relative of yours. At the very least, I’ll ensure she is seated in the front row at our wedding.” He twitched one of Watson’s spines, and the hedgehog curled once more into a silver ball. “Did she not know of the German man who paid you far too much attention?”

  A topic she and her aunt had discussed at length. “Neither of us thought Herr Krause would follow me all the way to Scotland, but this past month, he has dogged my steps, pressing me to discuss my work.”

  “Is there any chance he knew of your connection to the Queen’s agents? Of your wish to attend the Rankine institute?”

  “I can’t see how he possibly could, unless there’s a leak within the organization?” She paused, thinking. “But shortly after I presented the duke with my plans, Herr Krause became rather insistent, going so far as to make me a generous offer for the device, sight unseen.”

  “I can imagine.” He set Watson carefully aside and—hooking a finger over the edge of her corset—drew her close. A shudder of desire rushed through her. Their hips bumped, and she leaned into him, enjoying the crush of her breast against his chest and the gentle friction of her hips against his. All this technical talk had not dimmed his other interest at all. “To think of the number of devices it might power…”

  Alice smoothed her hands over the hard planes of his chest. “Only small ones.” She pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, grinning when a soft moan escaped his mouth. “And only for a short period of time.” She slid her arms about his neck. “There’s not enough stored chemical energy to power a full-sized steambot for more than a few minutes.”

  “My mind has begun to stumble.” He ran the tip of his finger over the swell of her breasts, then toyed with the topmost fastening of her corset. “Perhaps we might table technological discussions for an hour or two? I’m of a mind to turn my attention to research of another kind.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” And with that, she drew his lips to hers and immersed herself in the many sensations of her newest—and most favorite—past time.

  Epilogue

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nbsp; Alice—flanked by both Ben and Mr. Jackson —followed the duke’s antiquated steam butler, Burton, wondering why no one bothered to oil his rusty jaw. But it was not her place to inquire. She rubbed her finger over the drawstring of her reticule in nervous excitement, then forced herself to stop. Only the most proper behavior must be on display this morning. And that included suppressing the overwhelming desire to smile at the loyal—if exhausted—man who had accompanied her from the train station directly to the duke’s doorstep.

  Upon their arrival at King’s Cross, Clara had clapped her hands. “Thank goodness,” she’d whispered in Alice’s ear. “I was afraid I might find myself related to Lady Delphinia. Alas, it’s far too early an hour to properly celebrate. We’ll have tea soon.” Grinning, Ben’s sister had adjusted her hat, then climbed into a separate steam carriage.

  Alice and Ben had been celebrating their engagement all night, but she was anything but tired. Pure excitement and anticipation galvanized her.

  Her mouth twitched. Affianced to the very man the duchess had instructed her to abandon, their next stop would be her parent’s London townhome, where Mother would be promised anything she wanted, provided it hastened their wedding without attracting negative speculations as to the reason why.

  All that remained was to secure herself a position of favor with Her Grace’s husband, the Duke of Avesbury.

  Burton rolled to a stop before the great man’s door, and Alice’s stomach flip-flopped. Unclenching her fingers, she smoothed her skirts. She’d chosen a modest, russet-striped day gown with a high necked and pleated bodice—edged by two simple rows of buttons—and an overskirt that swept back into a high bustle to highlight the triangular-toothed russet accents of her skirts. All very tasteful. A shame her oversized reticule did not precisely match. If Her Grace was present, she would note the faux pas. Alice was counting on Watson’s brilliance—and the captured clockwork insect—to distract the duke from any disapproval his duchess might insinuate.