by Linda Banche
He raised his arm to flag down an approaching hackney.
The vehicle clattered to a halt and Laurence called out his address as he swung up inside. Since he had every intention of returning on the morrow, he would bring flowers for Miss Palmer. And make sure he spent more time with her.
But first, he had better find some old clothes.
Chapter 7
“These are for you.” Mr. Coffey handed Ellen a bouquet of roses.
“Oh, pink roses, my favorite. Thank you.” He came back. Ellen almost wilted against the chair back. Mama and Papa had informed her Mr. Coffey could return, but they both must follow the rules. Still, she had tossed and turned into the wee hours wondering if he was gone for good.
She should have had more faith. The atmosphere in the parlor, which a moment ago had been grey and gloomy, now glistened as if lit with sunbeams.
She inhaled deeply of the blooms’ sweet scent. “They are lovely. And so fresh.”
“Covent Garden has the best flowers early in the morning. I was fortunate to find those just as the merchant removed them from his cart.”
“You were up quite early.”
“Indeed. I found sleeping difficult last night.” He cracked a grin. “I was looking forward to coming back here.”
Gracious, he is interested! She gestured him to sit, and then sent the maid, who had just set out the tea things, to fetch a vase filled with water and to call her mother. She was not about to anger her parents again. “Would you like some tea, Mr. Coffey?”
“Just a cup. I have already broken my fast. And please, call me ‘Laurence’ or ‘Coffey’ as I asked the rest of your family to do.”
“Very well—Laurence.” She did like the sound of his name. “And you must call me ‘Ellen’.”
“Thank you.” He lowered himself into the chair beside her. “The flowers are something of a peace offering. I regret I abandoned you yesterday.”
“Your absence was not entirely your fault. Mama was not happy with me, and, as punishment, prevented me from seeking you out.”
“Your parents were not happy with me, either. I am grateful your father let me stay, despite my part in our little ruse. But I also became engrossed in the steam engine.” His grin glimmered. “Be that as it may, I should not have let your brother spirit me away. After all, I came to see you. Perhaps I was too polite with him.”
She laughed. “I doubt anyone can be too polite. I admit, though, I was a little annoyed when you left.” Little was an understatement. She could have happily throttled Tom. And last night after they returned from the party, she had made him help her with her calculations, which he hated, to pay him back. “But my brother can be most insistent, and if you had not gone willingly, he would have dragged you away. Or he and I would have fought over you until you were battered and bruised and torn into tiny pieces. What was left of you would have fled in terror of the ferocious Palmer family.”
“I would never have fled. I find your family delightful.”
She arched an eyebrow. “All of us?”
His grin widened. “Well, your brother sometimes leaves a bit to be desired, but your father and mother are both charming, if strict.”
Light tapping of footsteps in the corridor announced the arrival of Mama. “So you find me charming?”
Laurence stood. “You have caught me out, ma’am. You are as charming as your daughter.”
“Flatterer.” She patted Ellen on the shoulder as she passed. “Do not let him get away.” On that encouraging note, she repaired to the stuffed chair by the fireplace on the opposite side of the room, and then picked up a book.
“I think your mother likes me.” He angled his chair slightly so that the table with the tea things screened him a bit from Mama. “Shall we have some privacy?”
She nodded and moved her chair a bit, too.
With a conspiratorial grin, he sat back. “As for your father, mechanical devices are an interest of mine, and I consider myself most fortunate to find him.”
“Amazing how well things work out sometimes. But, if you like mechanical devices so much, why did you study mathematics instead?”
“Well, mathematics is my second interest. As you know, mathematics is necessary to understand steam engines, and I could not study mechanics at university. Although Cambridge offers some natural philosophy and astronomy courses, they have nothing concerning machines. I would have had to apprentice myself to an engine maker, but my father would have had an apoplexy if I had done so.” He grasped his lapels, puffed out his chest and huffed. “Gentlemen do not do such things.”
“Oh, dear. In some ways a gentlemen’s life sounds so confining.”
“Well, we all have expectations heaped upon us. As the second son, I was meant for the army, but I have no interest in soldiering. I admit, Father has been most patient in allowing me to enjoy myself in Town, but even pleasurable activities pall after a while.”
“What? You find balls and musicales and plays and the opera boring?” She had never been to a ball or the opera. How she would like to go once.
“Those, among other things.” His eyes spoke of pleasurable activities beyond her ken.
Her cheeks burned. She was not about to ask what those other pleasurable activities were.
He held her gaze, as if he knew her thoughts. “Although, I would find renewed gratification in them if you were with me.”
Did he mean the opera or something else? Her heart fluttered. “Ah, sir, you are a flirt.” Would he really want her to accompany him to ton affairs? Among other things?
His eyes glistened. “I never said I did not like flirting.”
Flirting, or something else? Her nerves jangled.
The maid returned with the filled vase. Ellen stood to set the roses into the water, grateful for the respite. Gracious, how attractive he was. What would he be like at a ball or play? Or other, more private amusements? “I daresay you are very skilled at flirting, too. I doubt I am. We rarely go to social events. We live very retired here.”
“Nothing wrong with a quiet life. A hectic pace can become monotonous, just like everything else. Indeed, I would like to know more about your quiet life. How did you become interested in mathematics? Not something that appeals to many women.”
She gave a final pat to the flowers, positioning the vase so as to obscure them further from her mother’s view, before returning to her chair. “Quite. In some ways we are the same. Women are not supposed to study mathematics.” She sighed. “But I learned from Mama, who learned from her father, a mathematics instructor in a boys’ academy. She taught school until she married Papa. When I showed a facility for numbers, she taught me until my knowledge of mathematics outstripped hers. Then she hired tutors for me.” She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. How she would have loved to go to university. “Society can be so wrong-headed in forcing people into narrow channels.”
“I agree. But there is always a little room to change things to our own liking. Your family appreciates your skill with mathematics, and I can learn about steam engines from your father.”
“I am really quite fortunate in my family.”
That mischievous twinkle returned to his eyes. His beautiful eyes. “Does that statement include Tom?”
She laughed. “Most of the time.” How appealing he is. “I vastly regret I did not see you again yesterday. Life does make a habit of interfering with pleasurable activities.”
His smile deepened. “So you classify my company as pleasurable. Splendid.” With a glance at her mother, whose downturned head remained buried in her book, he leaned forward and took her hand. His skin was cool and just a little rough from the work he had done yesterday.
Her breath caught in her throat. What now?
Tom burst into the parlor. “Ellen, do you know if—”
With a tightening of his lips, Mr. Coffey released her fingers and turned toward her brother.
“Ah, Laurence, you’re here.” The lad bounced up and down. “And you w
ore your old clothes. Good. Lots to do today and most of it will be messy.”
***
Laurence smiled through gritted teeth. Gads, a second longer, and he would have kissed Miss Palmer with her mother only a few feet away. They had barely averted chastisement yesterday, but kissing her would certainly have caused her father to oust him forever. Once more, he owed the annoying Tom his thanks. He swallowed hard. “Yes, I came prepared.”
On his way home last night, he had made a trip to Petticoat Lane and the used clothing shops there. Such establishments were a revelation. Stacks of all kinds of garments, from the fine attire the well-to-do had discarded to rougher, ready-made apparel filled the place.
His valet, Hodges, had almost fainted when he saw Laurence’s purchases. Laurence had sought out garments of a lesser quality than his usual tailored raiment. No sense in destroying good clothes with oil and grease. He especially liked the red, peacock-eyed Belcher neck cloth, which Hodges hated. The valet looked ready to faint again when Laurence directed him to buy more such apparel.
Why, Laurence couldn’t understand. The clothes were somewhat loose and mayhap a bit seedy looking. The trousers, coat and waistcoat were of coarse wool, and the shirt of even coarser linen. Everything itched a bit, but he could survive that.
He shifted in his seat, and winced. Except for the drawers, which made sitting a penance. He cocked his hip slightly to dislodge a particularly itchy spot of the garment from a particularly sensitive portion of his anatomy. Perhaps the drawers had been a mistake.
He picked up his tea cup. Pray Tom would go away.
“Come on!”
Laurence set his cup on the table. “Surely whatever you want can wait a few minutes while I speak with your sister.”
Tom caught his arm. “Ellen will be here. Father has just—“
Wishing he could toss the vexing lad out the door, Laurence detached the boy’s clasp from his sleeve. “Just like a brother.” He forced laughter into his tone. “Always taking his sister for granted. I did the same with my sister when I was your age.”
“But Father has cursed all morning, waiting for you to arrive.”
The mantel clock chimed half after nine. By ton standards, the time was still the middle of the night. This family probably didn’t keep society hours, but the day was still exceedingly young. “He said to come early. I am early.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “‘Early’ in this house means six of the clock. What did you think he meant?”
Mr. Palmer’s muffled voice floated into the room. “Tom, where are you? I need a strong back right now. And if Laurence has finally arrived, I can use him, too.”
Damnation, trapped. What could he do?
Tom hopped from foot to foot, prancing like a racehorse straining to run. “Father wants to move our equipment to the new workshop. We need your help!”
Ellen set her teacup beside his. “Oh, is today the day? Papa has talked about nothing else since he found that space a month ago.”
Tom wagged his head. “Wait ‘till you see it. Quite a bang-up spot. Lots more room, and doesn’t smell too badly of horse, either.”
“In a mews, I take it.” His valet had wrinkled his nose at the odors of grease and oil clinging to Laurence’s clothes yesterday. Mayhap eau de equine would be more to his liking. “And where is this new, amazing workshop?” Ellen would no longer be within easy access if they were too far away.
“About a mile from here, north of Hyde Park on Edgeware Road. Father was about to hire someone to help us move when you arrived. And we have everything ready to go!”
Well, not too far. He could easily walk that distance.
Ellen’s lips curved in a wry smile. “There is no withstanding both of them.” She waved her hands in a shooing motion. “Go.”
Laurence rose and bowed. Standing relieved the itching from his drawers, at least at the rear. Perhaps Tom had his uses. “You are very understanding. I will return later.”
Her brother still hopped from one foot to the other. “I doubt it. Father has a full day ahead of us.”
Mrs. Palmer looked up from her book. “Well, in that case, come back for dinner.”
“Yes, please do.” Her daughter’s lips curved in an innocent smile that held a wealth of promises.
Laurence’s jaw sagged. He would return if he had to crawl on his hands and knees, his drawers rubbing him raw with every step.
Still gaping at her, he flapped a hand at her brother. “Lead on.”
Chapter 8
The clinking of china and cutlery wafted from the dining room. Ellen set her calculations aside and rose. Dinner time. Papa and Tom would return soon. Would Laurence accompany them? She bit her lip. He had said he would. Oh, please, let him come to dinner!
Straightening the folds of her skirt, she crossed to the dining room. Mama set the roses Laurence had brought in the middle of the table as the maid set out the dishes. Her mother looked up with a nod as she stepped back to survey the room. “Hungry, Ellen? Tonight we’re having leek soup, your favorite.”
“Oh, I cannot wait.” Actually, she couldn’t wait for Laurence to arrive. If he did. She pretended to straighten a knife that didn’t need straightening to mask her trembling fingers.
The back door scraped open and masculine voices spilled from the passage. Was Laurence’s one of them? She couldn’t tell from here. Her heart stuttered.
“Oh, they are back earlier than I thought.” Mama waved toward the door. “Please go down to the pantry and make sure they clean up before they come to dinner.” Her lips curved. “What I really mean is, make sure Tom cleans up before he comes to dinner.”
“I know what you mean.” Ellen hurried off, her stomach fluttering as if a whole net full of butterflies had taken residence there. She pressed a hand to her unruly middle and took a deep inhale. Time to see if Laurence was here.
But she still took her time on her way to the kitchen. If he wasn’t, she didn’t want to know too soon.
He had come to see her, hadn’t he?
Perhaps, but what if he remained only because of the steam engine?
She shoved the disturbing thought into the farthest reaches of her mind. He wanted to see her, and he hadn’t fled in terror or anger when she told him about her skill with mathematics.
He was interested in her. She gave a determined nod. Yes, he was.
Male laughter and the splashing of water greeted her as she approached the pantry. She halted before the doorway and swallowed. She couldn’t see inside, but she could hear.
Tom asked a question and Laurence’s deep tones replied.
Her butterflies escaped and flitted away. Yes, he was here!
She stepped up to the threshold and stopped dead. Papa and Tom, pulling on clean shirts, stood by the far wall.
But all her attention focused on Laurence.
His head turned away, he stood before the sink with his shirt off, splashing water over his face and chest. She had seen her father and brother in such dishabille often. But neither of them looked like Laurence. Such broad shoulders, ridged muscles and a flat stomach. While his clothes had hinted at such male magnificence, the reality stole her breath.
Laurence guffawed, the laugh setting his muscles quivering in the most delightful fashion. He toweled off and then pulled his shirt over his head. Those defined muscles rippled again until the fabric covered his fascinating male torso.
She released a shuddering exhale. Gracious, when had the room become so hot?
“Miss, please let me by.”
Ellen jumped at the maid’s voice. She stepped within and to the side as the maid, carrying more towels, entered the pantry. The maid smiled at Laurence.
Shakespeare’s green-eyed monster bit Ellen hard. Well, Laurence was a well-favored man. What woman wouldn’t like to look at him?
“Good evening, all, dinner is almost ready.” She marched up to Tom, when what she really wanted was to linger by Laurence. And his muscles. “Tom, your face is still dirty.” S
he held out a bar of soap. “Wash again.”
“Aw, Ellen, you’re worse than Mother—” The renewed splashing of water muffled Tom’s annoyed squawking.
Mama entered as a sullen Tom wiped his face dry. Papa dropped a kiss on her head. Then her mother, her smile a definite smirk, shooed her father and Tom before her, leaving her and Laurence alone.
Gracious, were her thoughts that obvious? She twisted her hands in her skirts until she forced them to still. “Did you have a good day, Mr.Coff—er, Laurence?”
“Indeed, I did.” He bounced like Tom as he tied a simple knot in the Belcher kerchief around his neck. Another item of male attire she hadn’t liked until he wore it.
“Your father approves of my ideas for the steam engine. He said he would help me implement them tomorrow.” He gave a final tug to the knot in his neck cloth. “I have never done anything like that before, and had no idea how to proceed. He is very kind to let me do so.”
“Papa is good at explaining. And he would never let you near his engine if he did not think you could do the work.”
“He is quite patient.”
“He also likes to display his knowledge. Tom and I are no longer awestruck, and he is overjoyed to have a new audience.”
He stood back to let her precede him upstairs to the dining room. The dining room was small as was the table, a square meant only for four. Mama stood behind the chair at one side of the table, and Papa would sit opposite her. She and Tom usually occupied the other two seats, but what about Laurence? Papa and Tom were nowhere to be seen
Papa entered, hauling in a straight-backed chair from the parlor. “Laurence, sit here.” He set the mismatched chair at the corner of the table beside him. A little tight with two chairs on that side, but they would all fit.
Laurence held out the seat beside the one Papa had designated for him. “Ellen?”
She had rounded the table when Tom darted in and plopped into the pulled-out chair. “Laurence, I want to hear about the pocket watch again!” Ever in motion, he bounced in place.
Laurence frowned.
