Dragons & Dirigibles

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  Victor shifted, laying her down beside him on the rug so his hands could move more freely. She slipped off his coat as he came down beside her. The crackling firelight brought up golden and copper highlights in her dark hair and cast intriguing shadows on the lines of her face, the curve of her neck and shoulders.

  “You’re so lovely.” His voice was husky, little more than a murmur. “All the men in your Order must surely be fools to have let you slip away.”

  “I never wanted any of them.” She spread the sides of his waistcoat wide and started on his shirt studs. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

  Victor’s cock hardened to the point of pain, pushing against the front of his trousers. “I’m not sure I have either.” It was the most difficult admission he’d ever made. “I don’t mean—there have been—” God, what a tongue-tied fool he’d become.

  Her laughter came as a surprise. “I understand. But really, Victor, you talk too much.” She leaned up for another scorching kiss.

  “What the hell?” The door to the study slammed open.

  “Tom?” Melody scrambled to sit up. She didn’t bother to hide her state of near undress. “What the hell, indeed. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, except I promised your brother and parents I’d look out for you.” The younger man, still dressed from his watch shift, stalked into the room. “Leave, Melody.”

  Victor got to his feet, putting himself between the other two. “You don’t talk to her like that.”

  Melody came around Victor and laid a hand on his waist. “Thomas Aloysius Porter Devere, never take that tone with me again. I am an adult and I make my own decisions. Does it look as if I’m here under duress?” She gestured at Victor’s unbuttoned waistcoat.

  Tom flushed. “No, of course not, but—”

  “Do I need to tell Wink about this? Or Caro?” Melody tapped her foot.

  Victor knew he should intervene, take control of the situation, but right now, he was too entranced by the fiery creature by his side who seemed to be handling things just fine on her own.

  “Look, Mel. I’m sorry. But you know this is a bad idea.” Tom looked up at the ceiling, as if requesting divine assistance. “Let’s just all go upstairs and forget all about this.”

  Forget? Every second of this interlude would be branded into Victor’s mind until the day he died.

  “Just walk away, Tommy.” Melody’s voice got lower instead of rising. “You’re out of line and you know it. Leave now, if you place any value on my friendship.”

  He nodded, then cast a stony stare at Victor. “I thought we’d come to a gentleman’s agreement.”

  Victor bowed his head. “We had. My apologies.”

  Melody stamped her bare foot, making no sound at all. “Don’t you dare apologize. I wasn’t part of this so-called gentlemen’s agreement, and as I already said, I don’t feel much like a gentleman. What happened here tonight was my decision. If either of you doubt that for even a moment, you can both go straight to hell.”

  “Well, I think I had some part in it.” Victor fought the urge to laugh. She was such a magnificent spitfire. “But as it turns out, all that happened was nothing more irreparable than conversation and a few kisses. Devere is right, dearest. We really should all go to our individual beds now.”

  She drew in a deep breath and tipped her head side to side before nodding. “All right.” She took his offered arm. “I want a promise, Tom, that you will not bring this up to Victor. Not now, not ever again.”

  “Mel—”

  “Promise. Now.”

  Again, Victor could see her years down the road as the matriarch of a large brood. She’d be a force of nature. This time, though, he smiled at the thought. Would it be so bad if those children and grandchildren were his? He rather thought it might be wonderful. She might not be the lady he’d envisioned, but she was one hell of a woman. After knowing her, he couldn’t imagine choosing someone...less. Just that easily, all his doubts vanished. She would make a magnificent countess, as long as she was his countess.

  “If you don’t promise, I’m going to tell Nell who painted mustaches on her favorite doll,” Melody said.

  Tom frowned. “That was years ago.”

  “She’ll still make you pay.” This time, Melody smiled.

  “All right.” Tom made an X across his chest with a finger. “I promise.” He walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “Just to erase the sight of you two from my eyeballs,” he muttered as he stalked from the room with his glass.

  Victor and Melody followed. At her door, he bowed over her hand, conscious of Tom’s watchful gaze. “Good night, my dear.” He brushed his lips across the silky skin of her wrist, noting the calluses and scars that marred her palms and fingers, then kissing those as well. “I won’t say I’m sorry.”

  “You’d better not be.” She hugged him tight and lifted his own hand to kiss his knuckles. “Good night, Victor. We’ll have time to talk more tomorrow.”

  “We will.” He watched until the door closed and locked behind her, then turned to Tom. “Come with me.”

  Tom shrugged and followed him back down the stairs. “Where are we going?”

  “To teletext Melody’s father,” Victor growled. “So I can ask for her hand. And you’re going to put in a good word for me. Otherwise, I’ll tell Nell about her dolls.”

  Tom held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “You win.” He shook his head as he loped down the stairs. “Somehow I think you and Mel are bloody well made for each other.”

  Victor didn’t know about that. But maybe once she was his, he could control the flames that raged through his blood.

  * * *

  Despite Victor’s words, Melody didn’t manage a single moment alone with him that day. He spent most of it on the beach with Tom and Mr. Hatch, looking for a cave entrance, while Melody worked in the barn to pack up the airship parts. Tomorrow, they would be put on a train to go back to London. Dorothy was inside with the children, so Melody worked with only Nell and the stablemaster for help.

  “Just burn the wicker from the gondola,” she told Mr. Willard. “There’s no point in shipping that home. It wasn’t part of the experimental design and it isn’t salvageable.”

  “Very well, miss.” He started removing the woven wicker from the basket’s metal frame. “What are you drawing, if I might ask?”

  Melody looked up from the sheet of paper in front of her. “How the engine would look if I was able to reassemble it with some kind of miracle glue. I’m trying to show the damage, so we can see where we need to improve the design for next time.”

  “Brilliant.” The older man smiled and nodded. “I’ll just put those boxes in the secure storeroom, then, shall I?”

  “Thank you.” Melody went back to her drawing.

  “Are you all right, Mel?” Nell, who was packing parts into a box, looked up. “You don’t seem quite yourself today. Is your ankle hurting?”

  “No, it’s all but healed.” Melody wasn’t at all ready to talk about her interlude with Victor—if she ever would be. “Just deciding what to wear to this dinner tonight, that’s all. I really don’t like being a pretend fiancée.”

  “I know.” Nell nodded. “Living a lie, no matter how small, is a horrible thing to have to do. But I’m guessing this will be over soon.”

  “Oh? Are any of Victor’s ancestors talking to you?” Melody had always envied Nell her ability to speak to ghosts. It was just so much more interesting than dreams with hindsight.

  Nell shook her head. “There’s kind of a vague presence who watches over Emma from a distance, but it’s not menacing, and it’s never taken form or spoken to me. It just seems to be a distant observer. Otherwise, I’ve found the house to be almost strangely devoid of spirits.”

  “Odd, for such a gloomy old house,” Melody said. She smiled, though. Black Heath was a little dour on the outside, but it had potential—much like its owner. She rolled up her drawings just as Nell tied up the la
st of the boxes and Willard returned. “I think we’re done here. Mr. Willard, thank you for your help. We’d better go change for the squire’s dinner party.”

  “Welcome, miss.” He bobbed his head and lifted another box.

  Back in the house, the two studied the contents of Melody’s wardrobe. “I didn’t pack up much of a selection, I’m afraid,” Nell said. “The blue is always nice.”

  Melody wrinkled her nose. “It’s one of my least favorites—perhaps because everyone else in my family has blue eyes and therefore favors it.”

  “So why choose that in the first place? Your mother doesn’t select your clothes anymore.” Nell’s eyes twinkled.

  “Because I let you and Wink talk me into it.” Melody laughed. “I really shouldn’t care. It’s not like I’ll ever see these people again.”

  “You never know.” Nell walked over and pulled out a cream-colored watered silk. “This one. It will play up your daintiness and your fair complexion.”

  Melody nodded. “Play the vestal virgin, even though I’m far too old for it. I see what you mean.” She did feel pretty in this gown, so if nothing else, it would boost her confidence. “What are you wearing?”

  “Pink,” Nell grinned. “Might as well pretend we’re both debutantes.”

  “We can torture Tom by simpering at him.” Melody whirled. “Thank heavens you packed my pearls.”

  At the mention of Tom, Nell’s face clouded.

  “What’s wrong? Have you and Tom been bickering again? You know, since we were little, I always kind of thought you two would be the first to marry.”

  Nell shook her head, blinking. “No. It’s just—time, I think. I’ve grown up. I have to give up my little girl dreams.”

  Melody pulled Nell by the hand until they were both seated on the bed. “Are you saying you are in love with him? Then why have you never said so? All the teasing over the years—Nell, why the hell aren’t you dragging him to the altar? Why didn’t you do so years ago?”

  Nell shrugged. “Because he said no. I finally, finally got up the courage to tell him, last night after you and Victor both left dinner, and Aunt Dorothy went up to bed. He told me flat-out that it could never, ever happen. That I was his sister, just like Wink or Sylvie, and that to think any other way was just disgusting. Then he stomped out of the room.”

  “Oh my God.” Melody drew her friend into her arms and held her while she sobbed. “I can’t believe it. I would have bet my pilot’s license that he was madly in love with you.”

  “I guess not.” Nell sniffed back the remainder of her tears. “So now you know. Don’t be like me, waiting and hoping. When you find the man you want—and darling, I think you have—don’t let him slip away.”

  “I won’t.” Melody hugged Nell tightly. “I’m not sure yet, but Victor is...different. Not like anyone I’ve met before. I just don’t know if I can be what he wants in a wife.”

  “We’ll find out,” Nell promised. “Meanwhile, I meant what I said about teaching. As soon as I’m back in London, I’m going to look for a position at a school—probably teaching music.”

  “You’d be a marvelous music teacher.” Nell’s gift for song was a supernatural one—she could actually compel people with her voice, though she’d said using that power made her physically ill afterward. “You’re the most compassionate, caring person I know.” Which also made her the most vulnerable. Melody brought Nell a glass of water from the pitcher on her dresser. “And don’t give up on love just because Tom is an ass. Look at Connor. Once he got over Wink, he found his real soul mate.”

  “I know.” Nell dragged in a breath. “That’s what I’ve been telling myself all day. I just have to keep going forward and make my own future. It’s time to stop being a lady in waiting.”

  “Exactly.”

  After a few more hugs and more tears, the two managed to get dressed and downstairs just in time to leave for the dinner party. Emma was there to say good night and Melody hugged her close before returning her to Mrs. Bates. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow we’re going back to the village for fittings on our new dresses.”

  “I wish you were really my aunt,” Emma said in Melody’s ear. “I don’t want you to go away.”

  “I wish that too, sweetheart,” Melody whispered. “With all my heart.”

  Victor took Melody’s arm and led her out to the portico. “I thought you might enjoy a ride in my cabriolet. That will allow Tom to ride with the other ladies in the main carriage and further the illusion of an engagement.”

  And give Melody some time alone with Victor. She clenched her fingers on the ribs of her fan until she was afraid the ivory would break. “That would be fine.”

  A few minutes later, they were seated in the open two-seat carriage behind a pair of lively black geldings. “How are you today?” he asked, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the road ahead. “You didn’t bring your cane.”

  “My ankle is doing much better.”

  “Good.” A long silence dragged out between them. He slowed the horses and drew in a deep breath. “Marry me.”

  Melody choked but managed to gasp out, “What? Where did that notion come from?”

  He lifted his shoulder, still keeping his face forward. “I just think it’s a good idea. Emma loves you. You’re perfectly well-bred, and you’re easy to talk to. I really do have to marry sometime. Without an heir to secure Black Heath, Emma might be left unprotected if something should happen to me.”

  Melody’s heart sank into her stomach. She picked at the ecru lace of her glove. “That might be a good enough reason for some people, but it isn’t for me. I’m sorry, Victor. My answer will have to be no.”

  “I’ve already spoken to your father.” He flicked the reins, picking up speed again. “Well, we exchanged teletexts, at any rate.”

  “Oh, really?” Fury lashed through her. How dare he speak to her father before asking her? “And what did he have to say?” Hopefully, Fergus MacKay had verbally shredded his would-be son-in-law.

  Victor cleared his throat. “Umm—he said it was none of his business, but if I did anything to anger you, he wasn’t going to step in to protect me.”

  Melody laughed, at her father’s words and at Victor’s chastised expression. He was an arrogant fool, and he didn’t love her, but he was still a good man. “What else?”

  “Also something about tearing off my head and sh—using my throat as a chamber pot if I hurt you in any way.” This time Victor joined her in a rueful chuckle. “I can’t say I blame him. I’d draw and quarter anyone who did with Emma what you and I did last night. I’m sorry.”

  “You told me you weren’t going to say that,” she reminded him. “And I wish you wouldn’t. I’m an adult, Victor. I made my own choices. Besides, nothing really happened. Certainly nothing worthy of a shotgun wedding. My father isn’t going to come after you.”

  “It would have.” He looked over at her and caught her gaze for a moment. “If Tom hadn’t come in, we’d be talking about marriage today for a different reason.”

  “So? It didn’t. Quit worrying.” She turned her head to the side of the road so he wouldn’t see any telltale moisture in her eyes.

  “And what about next time? Or the time after that? As long as you stay here, the attraction is only going to get worse. Sooner or later, we’re going to take that final step and neither one of us will have the willpower to stop it.”

  She snorted. “Really? Because I find this conversation is increasing my willpower exponentially with every passing sentence.”

  “Are you always this difficult when a suitor tries to propose?” He flicked the reins again and the horses began to trot.

  “Is that what you were doing?” Actually, since she’d never had a proposal before, she didn’t know. None of her halfhearted attempts at being courted had gotten nearly to the sticking point—hell, none of them had ever really gotten to the kissing point. Not the way Victor had kissed her. “You didn’t even bother to ask.”

  “Is
that it?” His voice rose. “You want me to go down on one knee and beg for your hand? I can do that, but not while I’m driving.”

  “No, that isn’t it, you nit. I do not want to marry you in order to give Emma a mother and you a convenient brood mare. Besides, what about my work? You’d have an apoplexy the first time I took up a prototype airship. Face it, Victor, we’d be a terrible match.” And they would; she knew it. Now, if only that knowledge didn’t make her want to take a hammer to something or someone.

  After a long pause, he said, “I didn’t imagine you’d want to continue flying after you were wed.”

  “I’ll never give up designing and building, Victor. It’s part of who I am. And I can’t give up the sky, not entirely. There may be times in my life when I wouldn’t fly experimentally for a while, or long flights away from home—” such as if she ever became pregnant, “—but anyone who married me would have to accept the Melody that I am, not the Melody he imagines I could be under different circumstances.”

  “I see.” Silence hung between them, heavier than the fog. “We’ll just have to take care not to be alone.”

  “Exactly.” Even if it killed her. “Now, tell me about the people we’re going to meet tonight. Are there any you particularly suspect are involved with the smugglers?”

  “The squire himself, unfortunately. His pockets have become far deeper in recent years.” His tone was flat, lacking the animation it had exuded earlier. “I’ve tried to become friends with him, since he has a boy about the same age as Emma, and she talks about him quite a bit, but I just can’t warm up to the father.”

  “Hmm. I wouldn’t guess Mr. Walker was clever enough to be a mastermind, but that doesn’t mean he’s not somehow involved.” She racked her brain for ideas—anything to finish up this case so she could get out sooner, rather than later after she fell even more in love with Victor and Emma.

  “Exactly.” He went on to describe a couple of the other local residents he expected to see. “The vicar will want to talk to us about the wedding, of course.”