The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Box Set

by Kara Jorgensen

  “Mr. Talbot, do you know who that woman is?” she asked as the party grew closer.

  He craned his neck. His eyes roamed over her light blonde hair, which had been elaborately coiled and pulled back severely from her forehead. Her face was set in a scowl, giving her stately features a hard edge. Even though she didn’t appear to be over fifty, she had the bearing of a much older woman. Her maid’s eyes widened when she noticed Nadir watching them. Without question, he recognized her. She had delivered the letter to Leona, the one they both tried so hard to hide. His cousin had said her name, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall it.

  “I don’t know, but they appear to be headed this way.”

  The woman and her companions crossed the sand and stopped near the outcropping where the Sorrells had parked their bicycles. As her eyes ran over the velocipedes, she sneered, looking down her upturned nose at the picnickers. The Sorrells were not what she had imagined, even if her husband had warned her of their immaturity and lack of decorum. They were dining in the dirt without gloves or servants. Their lips and corners were tinted orange from their meal, and they were eating with bare fingers. Worst of all, the earl had shed his jacket and shoes in favor of sitting the sand in only his shirt sleeves.

  “Lord and Lady Dorset, I presume?” she stated, coming no closer.

  Hadley watched sweat bead down the maid’s cheek as her arms shook from holding the heavy parasol steady, but her lady took no notice. “Yes, and you are?”

  “Rubella Nash. I believe you have met my husband.”

  “Yes, we have.”

  Mrs. Nash’s hard gaze never wavered from Hadley’s face. It was impossible to tell if she was studying her or boring through her skull, but it unnerved her just the same, even if she refused to show it. Hadley glanced at the man at her side. His mustache had been artfully set and waxed into a fine curl. The man was far younger than Mr. Nash and much more attractive, but he was much too old to be Mrs. Nash’s son.

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Nash. We were not aware that Mr. Nash was married. If we had known, we would have called on you sooner. And you, sir, though I don’t believe we have made your acquaintance.”

  “Sergeant Purcell, head of the Folkesbury constabulary,” he replied, his speech clipped with authority. Purcell gave her husband’s hand a firm shake before bowing to Hadley. Neither visitor even paid Nadir a glance. “Hopefully we will not meet again, your ladyship, unless in a social setting.”

  Mrs. Nash’s eyes narrowed on the young couple. “We did not see you at church this morning.”

  “That’s because we were not there,” Hadley replied, forcing a soft smile.

  “Did you not know where it was?”

  “We chose not to go.”

  “Do Londoners not attend mass?”

  Eilian and Mr. Talbot exchanged glances as Hadley took a deep breath and stiffly replied, “Not all, Mrs. Nash. We do not. We are secular.”

  She pursed her lips. Finally, Mrs. Nash said, “Then, you will not be joining the Society of Visiting Ladies? We meet every Wednesday at Billings’ for tea. We’re a decidedly Christian organization. If you choose to no longer be a heathen, then you may join us.”

  “Rubella, why not let her join?” the sergeant asked genially while giving Hadley and Eilian a sharp look. “You know how young people are nowadays.”

  “They need to know expectations here are different from the city.” Without removing her gaze from the redhead’s face, she snapped her fingers and the maid lurched forward. “I hope we will see you next week. Come, Pilcrow.”

  Nadir and the Sorrells watched as the Mrs. Nash and Sergeant Purcell sauntered out of sight with Pilcrow at their backs.

  Eilian blinked, unsure if what he had seen had really happened. “Did we just get reprimanded for not going to church? My parents didn’t even care if I attended mass.”

  “She called you a heathen!” Nadir cried. “Decidedly Christian. Like you would even want to—”

  “Are either of you really surprised? Folkesbury is a small town, and we are all outsiders. I’m sure they have been keeping an eye on us for that very reason. Small town gossip.”

  “Too bad we aren’t in Bath or Paris. They only talk about where you are, not where you aren’t. Unless it is a party. Then, they wonder why you were not invited and what you did to deserve it.”

  Eilian frowned, nudging a pastry away. “Hadley’s right, we are all curiosities. Still, it was unwarranted. I don’t know how anyone can like the Nashes.”

  For a few minutes they sat in silence, finishing the last of their desserts and the remaining lemonade. Nadir’s eyes flickered to his neglected writing desk where it rested beside the Sorrell’s bicycles. A dusting of fine sand coated its top. An afternoon of good conversation and food would have been much preferred to a solitary half-day of writing, but the Babylonian king’s mistress was dancing through his mind and he had to catch her before she left.

  “I beg your pardon, Lord and Lady Dorset, but I really should be going soon. Unfortunately, I owe my publisher the first half of my book in a week or so, and I have barely begun my rewrites. Thank you for allowing me to dine with you. There is nothing I cherish more than good food and conversation.”

  Hadley inwardly sighed but smiled. “I’m so glad you could join us.”

  “I do hope we will see you again soon.” As the writer gathered his valise and desk, Eilian asked, “Mr. Talbot, do you know if there is anything interesting to see in Folkesbury? Hadley told me you lived here as a child.”

  He thought for a long moment. “Not really. The ocean is the biggest draw in the summer months, but there are Roman ruins scattered throughout the woods. When we were children, Leona and I would search for the faerie caves that were supposed to be hidden amongst the trees, but all we found were old foundations and walls. But who knows? Perhaps you will be the first.”

  Chapter Eight

  Woman Troubles

  Nadir gently clicked the front door shut behind him and dropped his writing desk on the hall table. The day had gone better than he expected. At first he feared his picnic with Lord and Lady Dorset would eat into his writing time or dampen his mood, but it only inspired him. In the hours after they parted, he sat on the beach with his writing desk resting against a rock and slipped into the perfumed, dangerous world of Ancient Babylon—or at least what he thought Ancient Babylon to be. Maybe a steady stream of good company and good food were all he needed to finish this book.

  Hanging his top hat on the rack, he listened in the stillness for his cousin or her husband. A loud stuttered snore ripped through the darkness of the parlor. Nadir drew back the curtain and found Argus asleep across the sofa with his hairy hands neatly folded over his paunch. A half-empty teacup cooled on the side-table behind his head, and his wire-rimmed glasses hung half-off his face, fogged from his hot breath. He considered waking Argus up to save his spectacles from being broken under his heavy cheek when he heard a clatter in his office. Slowly creaking open the door, Nadir peered in.

  Every gas lamp and candle in the room had been lit, despite it being only a quarter past seven. While the desk remained tidy and untouched, the bookcase beside it had been nearly emptied and its contents scattered across the floor. Only the books at the edges were left standing, leaving a ragged gap that ran the length of the shelf.

  “Blast it! Where did I put it?”

  Nadir stuck his head around the edge of the door and watched his cousin. Running a hand across her brow, she released a tremulous breath and stared at the pile before her. She picked up each book in turn, checking the spine and cover before tossing it behind her onto a slanted stack. When she finished inspecting that sample, she leaned into the next shelf and felt behind the books. Her back straightened as she withdrew a small text. Its light grey cover appeared to be blank, but when she opened it to the front page, her eyes brightened.

  “Every Woman’s Book,” she read aloud, frowning thoughtfully at the weathered
page, “not quite what I was looking for. I could have sworn I put Carlile by Hanchett.”

  Tucking the thin volume under her skirt, she stuck her arm into the gap between the pages and the shelf. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she repeated it on the final one. Leona sat back and stared at the bookcases. Lying across the floor, she reached under the shelf. Between Argus’s labored breaths, he could hear something running across the wooden boards. A black book slid out at the end of Leona’s fingers like a planchette. From his hiding place, Nadir couldn’t make out the golden letters across the cover, but it had to be the right book. She let the pages run between her fingers until she found what she was looking for. Silent words raced across her lips, but as her eyes widened, the board under Nadir’s boot groaned.

  “Doing a bit of redecorating?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

  Her eyes shot to the door as she slammed the volume closed. “I— Oh, I hate it when you do that! What are you doing here?”

  Before she could slip the book out of sight, he had crossed the space between them and plucked it from her hand. Leona shot up after him, her hands snapping for her book, but he raised it above his head and spun toward the door as he had so many times when they were children. This time, it wasn’t a diary in his hands but a medical textbook. He cocked his brow and stared down at his older cousin. Her dark brows knit in anger and her breast heaved, yet beneath her blustering and scowling, her eyes were strained with fear.

  “Sexual Health?” he asked, holding it out for her to take.

  Her round cheeks grew hot as she snatched it from his hand and placed it on the mantle. “Yes, it’s a textbook. I’m— I’m having woman troubles, thank you very much, and I would appreciate it if you did not pry while you’re here.”

  “Oh.” His face fell. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

  “Have you seen a doctor?”

  Leona cocked her brow. “If I went to Dr. Sturgis, the whole town would know.”

  “You could come back to London with me. I’m sure someone on Harley Street could sort it out.”

  “Really, it’s nothing. Help me put these back if you care so much.”

  Picking up a handful of books, he stared at the spines. Half were her father’s old apothecary manuals while the rest were books on Egypt. “Shouldn’t these be in some sort of order?”

  “Just put them back. Argus won’t notice the difference.”

  “Have you told him?”

  “Told him what?”

  “About your ‘woman trouble’?”

  Leona froze with her hand on the shelf. Her voice came out pinched and strained as she replied, “No, no. You know Argus. He would worry so, and it’s nothing. Please don’t burden him unnecessarily, Nadir.”

  It wasn’t a hissed threat or a tight whisper, as he expected. Her voice faltered, but her impassive face betrayed nothing. Nodding, he restocked the shelves. For her sake, he hoped it really was nothing. As much as he said he hated staying with her, Leona was the closest thing to a sister he ever had and he had been looking forward to their time together after nearly five years of only sparse letters.

  She cleared her throat. “How was your day? Did you get any work done?”

  “Yes, quite a bit. I met Lord and Lady Dorset by the beach. They invited me to share in their picnic. We ended up talking for quite some time.”

  “That was very nice of them.” Her face and eyes softened before tightening into a tired frown. “I don’t think Lady Dorset likes me very much. Women usually like me, but she seemed miserable when they called on us.”

  With her eyes cast down and her face darkened with thought, she looked like her younger, more innocent self, the girl he remembered collecting shells with during his childhood. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “She is an odd sort. Then again, you know you can be off-putting when you try too hard, but she will come around. I can even put in a good word for you if you want.”

  “Thanks,” she replied as she replaced the final handful of texts.

  “I don’t think she dislikes anyone. Well, except for Mrs. Nash.”

  Nadir watched from the corner of his eye as Leona stiffened.

  “Oh? Why does she dislike Mrs. Nash?”

  “Because while we were eating, she chastised her for not attending church.”

  ***

  The grass crunched under Eilian and Hadley’s boots as they led their bicycles up the hill toward Brasshurst Hall. While they hadn’t discovered the faerie caves Nadir mentioned, they had found the remnants of a Roman wall on the cliff above the beach. In places the mortar had chipped away only to be held fast by countless mossy fingers. To Hadley, the wall seemed barely more than bits of stone stacked one atop another like a poor man’s fence, yet it brought her husband great joy. He measured its height and width against his hand and leg before following it up and down the hill where it disappeared into the earth and brush only to reappear several yards away. By the time they completely lost the wall to the countryside, both Sorrells were ankle deep in mud.

  “What do you think it was?” she asked as Eilian lugged their velocipedes down the back steps into the servants’ quarters.

  “I’m not sure. It could have been part of a fortification or town. It would make sense since we found them on the hill, but I will need to go back and look again. Maybe I should do an excavation here.”

  “Does that mean Brasshurst was built where there used to be an ancient town?”

  Before Eilian could reply, Patrick opened the basement door. Charlotte, the lanky maid who had been with him the longest, appeared behind the butler’s shoulder but quickly curtsied upon seeing the earl and countess. Both servants’ eyes widened as they trailed to the dirt that had wicked up the Sorrells’ clothing. Hadley plucked the half-empty picnic basket from her bicycle and handed it to the waiting maid before working on her boot laces.

  “Charlotte, in a little while, would you come to collect my dress for cleaning if you aren’t occupied?” Hadley asked as her gloved fingers slipped over the sticky mud.

  The light-haired maid left the basket on the dining table and gathered Hadley’s soiled gloves and shoes. “Yes, milady. Will you need help redressing?”

  “No, thank you. I will see to it myself.”

  “When you go up, fetch his lordship’s trousers as well,” Patrick added as he motioned for Eilian to hand over his caked boots. “I have already laid out clean clothing for both of you.”

  In their stocking feet, they padded through the servants’ hall and up the darkened iron staircase that led to the upper floors. Cutting through the high, latticed windows of the harem-style wing, Hadley paused to watch the sun set over the trees. Beyond the panes and panels of dark wood, the sea engulfed Folkesbury in a cloak of fog. Hadley laced her fingers with her husband’s as they rounded the bend near their bedroom. From the corner of her eye, she watched his lips curl into a smile as she squeezed his palm.

  “Did you have a good time today?” she asked as he held the door open for her.

  “Very much so. Thank you for arranging it.” He released a constrained sigh, pulling off his jacket and setting it aside on a hanger. “It was nice to spend the entire day with you. It seems like I barely see you even though we’re always here together.”

  She frowned. She hadn’t intended to ignore him, but the house had been a bigger project than she had imagined. Shutting the door, Hadley stared down at the four inch line of mud running along the hem of her gown. Before she could ask, Eilian wrapped his prosthetic arm around her waist and undid the buttons running down his wife’s neck one-handed. He kissed the top of her head and left her to disrobe. She stepped out of her dress and slipped off her camisole and dirt-peppered stockings. Standing in only her chemise and corset, she watched Eilian toss his muddied trousers onto the valet stand and his father’s signet ring on the nightstand. Sunlight spilled through the curtains, pouring over his firm shou
lders and down the lean musculature of his torso and arms until it stopped at the edge of his cotton drawers. The deep scars that marred what she could see of his right arm fanned across his ribs in webbed vines before dissolving at his waistline. When they were first in the Negev together, she remembered them being redder, but over the past few months, they had paled to his natural skin tone. It seemed so odd to her now that they never once touched all those nights they were alone in the tent.

  “Close your eyes,” she said, standing before him as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his wet socks.

  He stared at her for a moment, unsure of what she intended, but when she didn’t budge, he obeyed and shut his eyes. Her hand grazed his thigh before coming to rest on his shoulder as she shifted her weight across his knees. With his eyes still closed, he wrapped his arms around the small of her back.

  Hadley took in her husband’s face. When he was looking at her, it was hard to not be drawn to his quick grey eyes. With them shut, she could finally see the rest of him. She ran her fingers through his thick brown hair, which was still damp at the roots with sea spray and sweat, and planted a reverent kiss between his brows. Her hands traveled along the aperture of his neck as she kissed each eyelid. When her soft lips grazed his jaw, his grip tightened, inching her closer until their bodies brushed. Her flushed breasts burned through her chemise where they pressed into the muscles of his chest. The breath caught in his throat as her mouth kneaded the sensitive flesh of his neck. He shifted beneath her, his hand trailing up her back in time with her mouth. Reaching his chin, she gazed at him for a moment before finally bringing her lips to his. Eilian was hers.

  Eilian pressed back, heat flooding his chest and abdomen as her hands wandered across his shoulders and into his hair. The moment he parted his lips to draw in a breath Hadley’s tongue swept along his lower lip. She shifted onto her knees, kneeling over him as he mimicked what she had done. Against her will, a soft groan escaped her lips at the sensation of his tongue grazing hers. Her arm slid behind his neck and drew him closer until her hips rested against his stomach. They breathed in time as their hands ran over the curves of the other’s body and their lips slipped and locked. Sliding his hands up her sides as he planted a line of kisses down her clavicle, his prosthesis caught on the strings of her corset. He tried to tug it free, but the lace held fast. When he broke away from her flesh to untangle it, her dark blue eyes fixed on him, waiting.