Dragons & Dirigibles

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  “That seems fairly normal for a grieving child.” At least Melody thought it did.

  Blackwell shrugged. “It seemed that way to me. Odd about the governess, though. She was apparently a great favorite of Emma’s mother. A few other servants decamped before I returned as well. Fleur’s French lady’s maid, my brother’s valet and the original butler. I suppose they ran off with bits or pieces of the family silver that I didn’t even know we had.”

  Melody nodded, pleased that he no longer used Emma’s title, thereby admitting Melody into the family circle to a degree. “That sounds possible.” Strange, but not preposterous.

  “As to Emma, I admit, I’m flummoxed. Rather than a new governess, maybe I should send her away to school.”

  Melody bit her lip. This was none of her business, and she didn’t know much more about childrearing than he did. But...

  “What do you think, Miss MacKay? You said you know other families with children.”

  “Not ten-year-olds,” she blurted. “But, just from what I’ve seen...”

  “Go on.” He waved aside her hesitation.

  “Then I’d say no.” She drew in a deep breath and pressed onward. “She loves you, you know. And she’s just lost everyone else. She needs to spend time with you, becoming comfortable with the new shape her life has taken. She needs to know you care about her as well. Right now she has no sense of security, despite her outgoing and cheerful nature. She eavesdrops because she’s frightened.”

  “Frightened of what? Me?” His mouth quirked in a skeptical grin.

  “No. Of losing you. Of you not wanting her.”

  He scowled. “That doesn’t make any sense at all. We spend time together every day.”

  They did? How good of him. “And I suspect she doesn’t want to lose that closeness. Give her—and yourself—time. That’s my best advice.”

  “Hmmph.” He pursed his lips as if sucking a lemon, then tipped his chin. “I’ll consider it. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Melody studied the lines of his lean form, slumped in fatigue. “I heard you discovered a body today. Do you think it’s one of the smugglers?”

  “I don’t know what to think. This isn’t a run-of-the-mill brandy-running operation.”

  “How so?” Surely he didn’t think that she was involved in it anymore.

  Apparently he didn’t. “For one thing, their technology is advanced. The landing craft are automated crabs, which scuttle up onto the beach, then burrow into the rocks and disappear. For another, the village is far too wealthy to be accounted for by fishing revenues. Finally, I have reason to believe my brother and his wife were killed because they knew something they weren’t supposed to.”

  “Really?” Melody shot straight up in bed. “What kind of evidence? Have you gone to the authorities?”

  “No,” he barked. “And don’t even think about it. Someone in this area—someone powerful—is abetting, if not heading this group. I don’t know whom to trust.”

  “Well, you seem to trust me,” she pointed out. “When only yesterday, you assumed I was one of the smugglers.”

  He shrugged, making his coat shift softly across his wide shoulders. “One of the village lads brought up a lengthy teletext from the Marquess Lake a little while ago, bearing the Home Office’s special codes. You are to be treated as an official representative of the Queen.”

  “Really?” Feeling warmed, Melody grinned. “He didn’t have to go that far, but it was very thoughtful. I bet his grandmother put him up to it. She’s a character, but she’s always had a soft spot for me.”

  “You know his grandmother?” The earl lifted an eyebrow.

  Melody nodded. “Our families have been close for...well, generations. My father and the duke—that’s Lord Lake’s father—have been associates at the Home Office for decades. The dowager duchess is a good part of the reason I’m still allowed in society even though I muck around on airships.”

  “I suppose that makes sense, however unlikely.” He sighed. “I still think we should get you on a train out of here first thing in the morning. Since—and I’ve come to believe this—you really don’t have anything to do with the smuggling, it isn’t safe.”

  “First I need to see my ship.” Melody felt a strange reluctance to leave, particularly in the face of potential danger. “And right now, it seems like you can use all the help you can get. I am a representative of the Home Office, remember?” She said the last sentence with a light, teasing lilt.

  “And I don’t want to see the Queen’s representative damaged even further on my property. It’s back to London for you, Miss MacKay.” He frowned. “Although—I don’t suppose—no, that would never work.”

  “What?” All her instincts told her this man was telling the truth. He was worried about his niece and the people on his estate. Her hands ached to rub the tension from his shoulders and neck, to ease the strain casting shadows beneath his eyes.

  “I was thinking it might be best to send Emma somewhere safe, just until I can deal with the smugglers.” He shook his head. “I can’t get it out of my head that your dog—who weighs something like three times what Emma does—ate her breakfast and became ill. What if there already is a threat against her?”

  Melody frowned. “I’d thought of that connection, but I honestly don’t believe it means anything. There’s no reason to target her, or really anyone. All that will do is draw more attention to their own activities.” Although it still worried her. Birch wasn’t usually one to pick up dead things and eat them, or other toxic debris.

  “I suppose. Besides, this smuggling could, theoretically, go on for years. I simply don’t want her to be away for that long. You’re right about her needing what little family she has left. Maybe we should both just pack up and leave. I have friends in the United States.”

  “Where she’d be away from everything she knows and understands and lose all the benefits of her title,” Melody reminded him. “Abandoning your family home hardly sounds like a winning proposition. Surely smuggling is a common enough problem along the coastline. If you’re worried about it, why not just take Emma to London until it blows over?”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t feel right. Black Heath isn’t just our home, it’s my responsibility. What kind of leader would I be if I just turned tail and fled?”

  “And?” She mimicked his eyebrow lift. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about.” The starch seemed to be back in his spine. He’d straightened and the spark had returned to his eyes. “Just be prepared to get on a train the moment the doctor says you can travel.”

  “No.” She straightened her own backbone. “I have a better idea. You need help that you know isn’t compromised. Let me provide that.”

  “Like bloody hell,” he snarled.

  “Yes. Listen to me. I can and will act as a bodyguard for Emma.” She could and would also send to London for both equipment and assistance. “In the meantime, tell people that we knew each other before my crash, and I’m here on a visit—or as the new governess, for all I care. Believe it or not, I’m considered something of an expert in both armed and unarmed combat. Even with a sprained ankle, I can manage to keep my eye on one small girl, especially since she seems to like spending time with me. That will give you more freedom to continue your investigation.”

  “You realize I have no real reason to trust you. Despite Lord Lake’s text, you could still be involved with the smuggling operation.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Hell, I don’t even know why I’ve told you this much.”

  She grimaced. “It’s my face. And my height. I look so ridiculously harmless that nobody thinks twice. It’s like confessing your sins to a puppy.” It had been that way her whole life. Nobody took her seriously—not unless they knew her well.

  “Harmless?” He snorted a laugh. “Bollocks. Honest, perhaps, and kind. Dogs and children seem to like you. I suppose that’s it.”

  Birch thumped his tail fr
om his side of the bed and lifted his head over Melody’s lap to sniff at Blackwell, who obediently scratched the big, shaggy muzzle.

  “My dog likes you too,” Melody noted. “Which is a strong recommendation to me. So what do you think? Shall I pose as governess?”

  Blackwell shook his head. “If this is to have a prayer of working, then I think not. We’re already flouting convention by having you here unchaperoned. I think you’d better be my fiancée.”

  Melody sat back. “Excuse me?”

  He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. “It’s preposterous, I admit. I’m certainly no prize and you’d make a very unconventional countess. But I feel we must do something to protect your reputation. You’re using your real name, Miss MacKay. Your father is a baronet and your sister is a baroness. You circulate in high society. Someone in this village is bound to say something to someone in London who knows someone—”

  “Someone who knows me. I understand.” She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue. It stung that he continually reminded her that he found her wanting. “I’m going to send for a chaperone, then. Someone who also has the skills to take care of themselves. That will provide an additional person to guard Emma. She can also help us quash any rumors that spring up.”

  He frowned. “Who’s that? I don’t want to drag even more strangers into my business.”

  “My friend, Wink McCullough. Lady McCullough. Her husband, Sir Liam, is a superintendent at Scotland Yard.” Melody wondered if she could get Liam to come too.

  He paused for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well, Miss MacKay. I’ll agree to this as a temporary measure to ensure my niece’s safety. If at any time I deem the situation too risky, I reserve the right to ship you and Emma off. I don’t suppose you could take her to visit your parents in Scotland?”

  Melody rolled her eyes. “If it becomes necessary, we’ll deal with that discussion. Now hand me paper and pen, so I can write the text. You’ll need to go to the village and send it yourself. The innkeeper or whomever is texting for you may be involved.”

  “Fine.” He did as she asked.

  While she scratched out the message, she said, “So, how did we meet?”

  “Pardon? Don’t you remember crashing on my lawn?”

  “No. If we’re engaged to be married, we must have met some time ago. When and how did we meet?” She bit her lip to hide a smile at his discomfiture.

  “Oh. Well.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose I must have been in...”

  “Edinburgh,” she supplied. “That’s where my parents live. And far enough away that your village squire and his mates won’t know anyone.”

  “Fine. My ship was docked in Edinburgh for repairs a year or so ago, so we can work with that. We met at some sort of party...” He stalled. Clearly making up tales wasn’t his forte.

  It wasn’t hers either, but she knew enough about investigation to be somewhat proficient. “In most cases, the closer one sticks to the truth, the better, but in this case, we need a story that’s a flat-out falsehood, yet simple and believable. You came to an airship demonstration and stayed for my mother’s ball afterward. We were smitten at once and have maintained a correspondence ever since. I was traveling here when I crashed, and my chaperone has merely been delayed due to illness but will be here as soon as possible. I only accepted your proposal after I arrived. You were so distraught about my injuries that you jumped the gun, as it were, and didn’t wait as you’d intended.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, that should suffice. Not that I’m usually given to impulse, but this situation seems to bring it out in me.”

  “Desperation often does.” Her brother married while hunting a witch-finder and her sister during an incident with giant kraken. Wink’s marriage had been precipitated by an attack on the Queen by automated men. No one in their circle would think twice about her becoming engaged during an investigation of smugglers. Not that it was real, of course. Wink would know that—when she came. “I don’t think I’ve said anything to Dr. Farnsworth to give us away. Or the servants. What about you?”

  He scratched his whiskers. “No, I don’t believe so. Only Barnaby and I’d tell him anyway.”

  “All right.” Melody handed over the note. “Will this do?”

  He scanned the request. “Stuck here. Need chaperone with Orderly skills. Wink & Liam best. Please bring clothes, tools, toys. Melody.”

  “You can add your direction at the bottom, I assume.”

  “Of course. Why orderly? And why did you capitalize it?” He looked over at her, the eyebrow lifted again.

  “I can’t explain, exactly. It’s sort of a code. My friend will understand.” Wink would easily discern that toys meant weapons and Orderly meant a mixture of magick and investigative skills.

  He sighed. “All right. I’ll ride down to the village and send this. I’ll even have a pint at the inn and toast our happy news. Is that acceptable?”

  “Good. First, though, you need to go tuck in your niece.” She blinked. “Oh, Lord. What are we going to tell Emma? Can we trust her with the truth?”

  “Damn. We’ll have to. I don’t want her to believe you’re really joining the family. She’s lost too many already.”

  Melody tipped her head. “I understand. She doesn’t talk much to most of the servants anyway. I think she’ll keep mum.”

  “I sure as hell hope so.” He stood. “Good night, Miss MacKay.”

  She smiled. “I think you’ve already forgotten our betrothal. My given name is Melody. Some of my family members call me Mel.”

  “Right.” He lifted her hand, kissed the air above it. “Good night, dearest Melody. My name is Victor, by the way.” He scratched the dog one last time. “Good night, Birch. Guard your mistress well.”

  “I know. Emma calls you by name. Good night, Victor.” The seeming intimacy of the situation thickened her voice. For just a moment, she could almost see them as an engaged couple, and the thought took her breath away. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to keep Emma safe.”

  He moved to the door and nodded. “I just want to be sure someone is also keeping you out of trouble.”

  With that parting shot, he left the room.

  * * *

  Victor made his way slowly up the stairs to the nursery. None of the guest rooms in this wing were occupied, making him realize how very alone Emma really was. Without a governess sharing the nursery suite, there was really no one who would hear her if she cried out in the night. First thing tomorrow, he was going to rearrange some room assignments. To start with, it was time for him to move to the master bedroom and have Dick and Fleur’s things packed away for Emma when she grew up. Then he’d have Miss MacKay—Melody—moved to one of the better guest suites in the front of the house. Then he’d move the Bates woman and her son into rooms near the nursery. He considered moving Emma instead, into the room next to his, but he planned to be out and about in the evenings.

  Obviously he needed to do a bit more reconnaissance of the guest rooms before reassigning quarters. He’d simply moved back into his old bedroom, not bothering much with the other chambers, but he knew his sister-in-law had made changes, so all might not be the same as it had been in his childhood when he’d run through the passages like Emma did now.

  He tapped on Emma’s door, softly, in case she was already asleep.

  “Come in, Uncle.”

  “How did you know it was me?” He eased open the door and stepped inside.

  “Your footsteps.” Emma sat in her bed with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them.

  She looked so tiny and fragile that his heart lurched. He couldn’t lose her. Maybe he should send her to Edinburgh with Melody. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong, sprite?”

  Emma shrugged. “Am I a bad girl?”

  He tipped his head. “Of course not. A little overexuberant sometimes, but not bad.”

  She bit her lower lip. “Mrs. Cranston said I was. So did Mama. Even Papa,
sometimes.”

  He scratched under his suddenly tight collar, having absolutely no idea where this had come from or where it was going. “Well, papas get angry sometimes, just like everyone else. I don’t think he meant you were a bad person.” Did he? Had Dick changed so much since they were boys together?

  “Maybe.” She didn’t look convinced. “I don’t mean to be bad.”

  “I know.” It was one of the few things of which he was certain. “We’re all bad sometimes, poppet. Just try your best, and when you do something wrong, make sure you take responsibility.”

  “All right.” She nodded. “I’m sorry for using the passages.”

  “I don’t mind you playing in them. I just want to make sure you don’t get hurt or stuck. From now on, take someone with you, all right? And try not to eavesdrop.”

  She lifted her shoulders. “Who? I don’t have a governess and there aren’t any other children.”

  “Well, me, for one. Maybe together we can clean them out, so you don’t end up covered in webs.” He thought for a second. “Mrs. Bates’s son, Alec. Do you know him?”

  Emma flashed a smile. “Uh-huh. I play with him in the stables sometimes. He always knows when there are kittens.”

  If she liked the boy, that cemented one of Victor’s plans. “What if he and his mother move into the rooms by the nursery? He can share your lessons and maybe train to be a footman. That way you won’t be the only one in this part of the house at night.”

  Her face lit up. “Yes, please.” She bounced on the bed. “I can really be friends with a servant? Mama wouldn’t ever let me.”

  Was this a mistake? Victor had no idea, but he wasn’t going to turn back now. Time enough to separate the two before they got old enough for potential romantic entanglements. “Friends, yes. But you mustn’t forget that he’s not ever going to have the same things you do. Be kind, sprite.”