Rachel placed her hands on her hips. “And why not? There must be something else we haven’t explored. You have already linked a set of glass-coated capacitors with metal deposited on each surface. Those capacitors were charged with a static generator and discharged by touching metal to their electrode, giving a stronger discharge. I’ve been thinking about making different electrochemical cells?”
“I have been thinking of using different metals.”
“Now the wheels are turning. Like what?”
“Maybe zinc and iron?”
“Interesting. What is your theory?” Rachel nearly swooned thinking of the possibilities, Anthony grabbed her wrist and refused to let go, hurrying her out the doors.
*
The Duke called after them. “The sun is going to fall into the ocean tomorrow.” The footman closed the doors and the duke nodded for everyone to leave except for his head butler.
“They never heard a word I said, did they, Sebastian?”
His head butler cleared his throat. “It does not appear so, Your Grace.”
The duke drummed his fingers on the table. “What do you think?”
The butler harrumphed in condescension.
“So that’s your opinion.”
The butler poured the Duke another cup of tea. “It is not my place to say, Your Grace.”
The Duke smiled. “It is exactly what Abby has orchestrated. I’d say she’s right.”
Sebastian’s tone was brisk. “And how is that, Your Grace?”
The Duke came right to the point. “A match made in heaven. To get Anthony out of his isolation. Miss Thorne is worth her weight in gold.”
The butler lifted his chin with dawning realization. “I see your point, Your Grace. Perfect.”
Lord Rutland shook out his newspaper to read. “You old fox, you came to that conclusion before I did.”
The butler smiled.
Chapter Seven
On the way to the laboratory, Rachel threaded her hand through Anthony’s arm, a most natural thing to do, since she was accustomed to doing the same with her brother and cousin. To the east, the bright light of morning consumed the rising mists.
“I demand a quid pro quo today in payment for my services,” she teased. He lost a step, recovered, and then nodded to one of the guards posted, making her mindful of the danger that followed the Rutland family.
“An equal exchange of what?”
A rabbit scurried through the naked branches of a rose bush, startling a coaltit to flight. Rachel jumped and gripped Anthony’s arm. Beneath the stiffness of his coat, she felt his strong muscles flex and wondered how a man with Anthony’s propensity to work indoors could be so muscular.
He opened the door to the laboratory, allowing her to enter first. A fire blazed in the fireplace, and she moved toward the warmth, evaporating the outside chill.
Though devoid of anyone else, a strange and dynamic presence lingered in every corner of the masculine laboratory. Rachel smelled it in the pungent scents of chemicals, and beeswax rubbed into the cherry cabinets and massive desk.
“I would like to go on a tour of the estate,” she said over her shoulder. Before he had a chance to dig in his heels, she pivoted on him, the rustling of her skirts disturbing the peaceful purity of the stillness. “It’s only fair. Besides the fresh air will do us good.”
He grumbled something about conspiracies to distract him, and then contracting pneumonia. She laughed, moving past the counters stocked with bottles and equipment to retrieve one of Anthony’s aprons draped on a hook, looped it around her neck and tied it in the back to protect her gown.
“What should we work on first?”
“I could launch a litany of scientific responses, but defer to you, Miss Thorne. You are so full of shining ideas and idealism. We will try your concept of changing the chemical solution.”
Anthony shrugged out of his frockcoat, tossed it on a stool then rolled up his sleeves. His forearms bulged, muscled and strong like a blacksmith who spent his day lifting a heavy hammer and pounding iron. This confirmed what she had felt beneath her fingers.
Why was she suddenly nervous being alone with him? Was it the intimacy that the lab allowed? Preying on her conscience was what she had almost revealedsomething very private to him the night before. Fortunately, the noise level at the ball hid her impulsive burst. For Anthony to raise questions on why she was undesirable would be too humiliating and the last thing she wanted was for him to think of her as a social pariah like the men in Boston had.
He withdrew to the window. “I miss my sister. She was always in my lab, sat on that chair and watched me do my experiments. One night changed everything in our lives.”
She moved beside him. “I try to put myself in Abby’s shoes, waking up in the dark bowels of a ship. The horrors she faced aboard the Civis under a former slaver captain bent on her demise. So fortunate Jacob captured the merchantman when he did. Abby’s resourcefulness was amazing, disguising herself as a boy. I can imagine the chagrin on my proud cousin’s face when he discovered a female on board his ship.”
She smiled up to him. “How fortunate everything worked out in the end. They had a lovely wedding ceremony and now the treasure of a beautiful baby boy. They are so happy.”
Anthony leveled her a droll look. “If anyone had told me two years ago that my sister would be married to a notorious privateer, I would have said they were crazy.”
She rubbed her forearms. “Even though Abby was safe in Boston with Jacob, there was one person I feared afterward that might have caused Abby and your family trouble, and that was Captain Davenport.”
Anthony smirked. “Captain Davenport’s hubris earned him a promotion to India for an indefinite stay. That my father had any influence with his cousin, the King, I can only guess.”
“That will teach me not to fool with a Rutland.” Rachel cleared her throat and moved the balance scale to where they were working. “I spoke with Mrs. Noot, my lady’s maid. She told me how you saved her from her husband.”
“If there was ever a piece of humanity that symbolized cruelty, it was Cuthbert. He beat his wife like a rented mule.”
“You impressed Mrs. Cuthbert with your…talents?”
Anthony swiveled to face her. “Miss Thorne, you are provocative.”
Elbows resting on the counter, Rachel rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “It’s just that—”
“Like Mrs. Noot, you expected me to be soft since I closet myself in my laboratory? I box regularly with tenants. They work hard to keep me in good shape.”
“Oh, dear, I hope you didn’t think I was being indelicate.” She twirled hair around her finger and then caught him staring at the movement, stopped and straightened, running her hands down her apron front.
“Not at all. I like your curious nature. I encourage it.”
Never had she felt so alive. To whirl around with her arms outstretched.
“You never completed telling me of your archery exploits.”
Rachel bit her lip. “You can thank Reverend Pott’s wife for my archery abilities.”
“Was she your tutor?”
“She was my inspiration. Mrs. Potts had a predilection for gossip and meanness. She was also afraid of Indians, even though the few that were around lived in remote areas outside of Boston or, like the friendly Wampanoag, worked on ships and farms. But you couldn’t convince Mrs. Potts of their civilized ways. When she started terrible rumors about Jacob, Ethan and me, we went on the offensive. We made a huge supply of arrows, and then went out into the forest to practice with our bows, competing with each other.”
“I see where this is going.”
He looked like summertime, if one could look like a favorable season, warm and thriving.
Forcing down a smile, Rachel let loose her story. “First, I launched an arrow next to her front door. She nearly fainted dead away. Every day I launched more arrows, her back door, bedroom window, her carriage. When she had said something par
ticularly mean-spirited about my younger brother, Thomas who was all of two summers, and the dearest, sweetest little boy who walked the earth, I ramped up the bombardment that would have made Julius Caesar proud. I loved Thomas and for Mrs. Potts to call him such awful names was abominable. Every time she went to the privy, she came under attack. I launched a dozen arrows into the door. Mrs. Potts swooned, and did not leave the privy all day, fearing Indians had invaded Boston. My father caught me and I received quite a penance.”
“What was your penance?”
“I could not go to the shipyard for a whole day. My father did not like Mrs. Potts either, but he had to make a point.”
“No doubt the rebellious streak runs in the family. I’ll have to be on my best behavior lest you come after me with your bow and arrows.”
Rachel laughed. Anthony referred to her older brother and cousin, staunch rebel privateers against the Crown with a price on their heads.
“I have failed.” She sighed.
“Failed? How’s that?”
“My goal was to turn your perpetual scowl into a cheerful countenance.”
“An impossible feat.”
“And why is that?” She wanted to know the dark mysterious side of Anthony Rutland. The part that held him back from living. She bit her lip. Were they not both full of flaws, stitched together with good intentions and seeking…seeking what? She could not answer that question for the life of her.
Not wanting to let the gaiety of the moment subside, she asked, “It’s only fair you share with me one of your youthful foibles.”
Anthony exhaled, obviously weighing what he would reveal to her. “When I was twelve summers, I experimented with different chemicals, left the combinations heating over the fire, and then left for lunch. My absence precipitated an explosion.”
“You mean to tell me your laboratory has suffered two explosions?”
Anthony nodded. His hair was a mess, loosened from his queue and there was a stain on his upper sleeve. At that moment, he was the handsomest man in the world.
He fidgeted with several flasks, probing his creative mind. “If we spilt the making of the solutions then we will be more efficient.”
She moved to the counter and drew out some flasks, and then reached for the sulfuric acid on the shelf above. The bottle wobbled, tilted, her fingers grasping. The carafe spun from her reach, and then dropped. A scream squelched in her throat. Her heart stopped. A wind brushed against her. Anthony swooped up and caught the bottle. The stopper popped out and rolled across the counter, the oily residue, steaming a path where acid burned the work surface. Had the acid splashed on her hands? She stared with horror, waiting for the fire of the acerbic to blister her skin.
He set the bottle down, grabbed her, and dragged her to a sink. With violence, he worked the pump, water flushing out the spout and onto her hands. Repeatedly, he inspected her skin through a cascade of water. A jolt ran through her from his unexpected touch.
She shook her head. “I don’t think the acid splashed on my skin.”
His eyes narrowed on her…eyes that masked the soul and in the same instant, snapped and crackled points of fire. Was he one of those men who didn’t want you to think they were interested in you, even though they were? “Acid eats flesh, devours bone.” He reprimanded herbut she knew that.
How stupid.
“You will be more careful,” he commanded. “I am responsible for you and don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Rachel pulled her hands away, surprised that her shaking limbs obeyed her. Her careless handling of the acid made her want to slither under the door like a snake to escape. And if her inept actions weren’t embarrassing enough, she’d obviously read far more into his responses than existed. He was gallant and concerned for her safety. What a fool to assume he cared for her more than a colleague.
He yanked open a drawer and jerked on rubber gloves. “We will not perform the acid test today. We will explore what I have in mind. The Italian physician, Galvani used iron and brass in his experimentation. I’m thinking he was on to something in utilizing two dissimilar metals.” He scrubbed the counter and put the sulfuric acid bottle on the shelf.
Her stomach clenched at his easy dismissal of her theory, as if her concept had no merit at all. “We will revisit my theory in the future?” By no means was she going to allow her idea to be swept away.
“Most people are superstitious about electricity, believing this fire we produce is divined from the devil.”
Was he intimating that the acid disaster was bad luck? He tore off his gloves and tossed them aside. “We will continue using the saltwater solution.”
Pigheaded man. “We need to try an acid.”
“I hate eating Lord Ward’s dust.”
She planted her fists on her hips. “Then listen to my theory.”
“I will, but I want to rule out the saltwater. My suspicions are nagging me. Can you mix a brine, thirty percent salt, sixty percent water? I’ll retrieve the zinc and iron plates.”
Your laboratory, Lord Anthony.
Rachel lowered her head, measuring out the salt and water and mixing the solution. Abby had told her that Anthony had been married. To have snared the highly intelligent, talented Lord Rutland, the woman must have been clever…and beautiful. Good Lord, was she jealous of a dead woman?
He brushed against her and her head snapped up. For a split second she sensed he had the urge to touch her again, and yet, in his eyes, shuttered a flash of pain. He pulled back. What demons tormented him? Did the ache he buried have something to do with his late wife?
How had his wife dealt with his flaws? Judgmental? Impatient? Sometimes rude? The strong opinions he formed? But, in a room full of people, hadn’t he challenged Lord Ward, making threats and insults that would curl one’s ears? Hadn’t he subdued Sir Bonneville? As brash as Americans were considered, Lord Anthony outdistanced them in crossing the lines of respectable boundaries. The man was an enigma.
What others might find pushy or callous, Rachel viewed through a different lens. She saw and respected the intelligent and gifted man who held himself to the highest of standards. She laughed off his brooding insults and accepted his impatience as a positive virtue.
It was all a façade. With her, he was kind, considerate and honorable. That he adhered to a code of ethics, regarding her was demonstrated when he saved her from Sir Bonneville and then again, when he had saved her life. She liked the way he cared for her. Protected her.
His analytical mind drove her wild and his drive to succeed matched her desire to excel. He was a man with a vision and a man to get things done. With discovery a food for his soul, and the ability to conquer the world, nothing would stop him.
He procured the items he needed and then threw extra logs on the fire. Sparks spit and snapped and spiraled up the flue. “Experimentation is more forceful than any logical thinking: facts can destroy our reasoned train of thought—not the other way around,” he said.
He referred to Dr. Galvani’s experimentation in making frog’s legs jump, deeming living tissue yielded electricity. Anthony believed otherwise. He rejoined her, the firelight dancing off the broad angles of his face as he focused on placing the plates side by side.
She nodded her head in agreement. “And the day scientists study non-physical phenomena will be the day man advances with enormous strides.”
He leaned into her. Rachel stepped back. Of course, he would be doubted, disagreed with, and disapproved, going up against a tsunami of naysayers in the scientific community for his theories. Her heart ached. His journey would be difficult.
He stared at her. “Thank you for your confidence in me.”
The air in the laboratory was suddenly too close. Too thick and full and overflowing withhim. Determined not to let her guard down Rachel raised her chin and did her best to look him square in the eye.
She numbered the many startling contrasts of Lord Anthony, adding up to a complex mix of confidence, idealism and stubborn
persistence. A pang of longing shot through her.
To be with such a man.
Invisible chains dragged her down…she couldn’t yoke Anthony with her shame. She couldn’t allow herself to fall in love with him because she would drag him down and ruin his brilliant career.
His jaw flexed. “I think by alternating the zinc and iron we will have some success in storing energy. Let’s try more plates. Can you get me more from the cabinet?” She fixed her gaze on the cabinet at the side of the room, hiding her discomfiture behind a carefully arranged mask of serenity.
Before the near rape, she had been the delight of Boston. No longer. When she recovered people treated her different. Men stared, women whispered gossip. With her parents dead and her brother and cousin off privateering, she had been alone, facing a cruel world. Good men, who had shown interest before, now made excuses. Even though she’d done nothing wrong, she’d felt like a pariah, and her heart ached at the unfairness.
Agnes Quick, a wealthy widow and neighbor had seen the problem for what it was and had made it her mission to put Rachel back on the map. Afterwards, the ladies of Boston became more generous and invited her to social events. Yet, the desirable men were still put off. The invisible social barrier remained steadfast.
Not once did Anthony take his eyes off her sojourn to the cabinet and back. She moistened her lips as she handed him the discs. His hand glided across hers, warm and confident, as he accepted them from her.
She took a deep breath. “Hydraulics and electricity are similar sciences. I believe all energy flows along a path,” she said, putting every bit of crisp, Yankee efficiency she’d gained over the years into her voice, quieting the tremors.
He lifted a brow. “Yes, I know.”
She blinked. Anthony’s calm calculation had returned. Had what she’d seen been a trick of the firelight? He finished the disc arrangement, inserted the assembly in a bowl.
She poured the salt solution over the discs. “How did Duke Cornelius come to possess a glass eye? An injury, or an anomaly at birth?” She picked up a quill, dabbed it in the inkbottle, and recorded notes on their progress.
Light of My Heart Page 6
