A Matter of Circumstance and Celludrones (Dark Matters) Page 5

  “Devon considers him to be the main instigator.” She leaned forward and took Lily’s hand in hers. “You’re the matron of morals and etiquette and everything proper. Devon thoroughly approves. He won’t be able to raise a single objection once he learns of your involvement.”

  “Except I happen to share your husband’s point of view.” Lily’s voice softened. “Are you two quarrelling over this?”

  “Devon doesn’t quarrel,” Evelyn said grumpily. She sat back and folded her arms. “He lays down the law and assumes the moon and stars will instantly align to do his bidding.”

  “Ah, I begin to see. When you asked me to refrain from mentioning risqué sports, it was because he has forbidden your participation.”

  “Not exactly,” Evelyn hedged. “He forbade me to engage in any further steam-propelled canoe racing, but this is air-paddling. We don’t go anywhere near water.”

  Lily rolled her eyes. “He’ll be furious when he discovers that you’re defying him.”

  “Not nearly as furious as I’ll be if he tries to stop all my fun.” He’d put his foot down in Surrey and, sooner or later, he’d learn that she’d simply danced around it. “I don’t want to be at odds with my husband, Lily. Marriage is a compromise and when he sees I have your support, he’ll have to yield.”

  “I’m not sure that’s how marriage or compromise works.”

  “Lily…” she pleaded.

  “Very well,” Lily sighed. “I’ll be your champion, although Lord knows I shouldn’t be encouraging you.”

  “Wonderful,” Evelyn said, her spirits instantly restored. “Don’t say anything to him yet, though. We need to plan a slow invasion.”

  Two footmen entered, one pushing the tea trolley and the other bringing a note for Evelyn. She recognised Devon’s handwriting and opened it at once.

  “Devon won’t be joining us tonight. The session of Parliament has overrun,” she summarised for Lily, “and he intends to call a meeting at the War Office directly afterward.”

  She stood and folded the note, glancing at the footman standing duty behind the tea trolley. “We’ll serve ourselves, thank you, George. Please inform Mrs. Heckle his lordship will not be dining at home tonight. Lady Lily and I will take an informal supper upstairs in the Oriental sitting room.”

  Evelyn’s eyes fluttered open at the soft click of the door opening. She yawned and stretched, and the book she’d been reading tipped from her lap.

  Devon spun about. His gaze landed on her and the grin that had stolen her heart from the very beginning tugged at his mouth. “I thought you were fast asleep in your own bed.”

  “I wanted to wait up for you.” She uncurled her legs from the armchair, pulling her wrap closer around her shoulders as she leaned over to pick the book up. “I assume the meeting at the War Office means your Dirigible Fleet Bill wasn’t passed.”

  Devon had been appointed Secretary of Alternative and New Threats last year. The position was held in tandem with that of the traditional War Secretary and had been designated to keep Britain abreast of the modern technologies sweeping the continent.

  “I was making headway until the queen graced us with her presence. Her speech was short and to the point. Britain’s power has always been at sea and the two Customs airships already in service are sufficient.” He tugged his cravat loose and undid the top buttons of his shirt as he crossed to his wardrobe. “Replacing our navy with a dirigible fleet would be disastrous and the Crown cannot afford both.”

  “Queen Victoria is wholly opposed to anything modern,” Evelyn said in disgust. “What of Lord Palmerston? Our queen and prime minister have an abhorrent dislike for each other.”

  “In this, they have finally found common ground. They are both so short-sighted, an attack from the skies is beyond their vision. Europe has been at peace since Napoleon, but the advancement of airships elsewhere, particularly in the East, leave our borders vulnerable on all fronts.” Devon stripped his shirt and bent to remove his shoes. “One way or another, England will have her Dirigible Fleet. I won’t stop until I see it done.”

  Evelyn didn’t doubt it.

  After she’d turned down her third and final proposal last season, her father had ordered she reconsider or he’d reduce her allowance to a tuppence and ship her off to live with Aunt Mary in the bowels of Surrey. To prove she’d not be threatened into marriage, Evelyn had written her aunt of her own accord and arranged to spend Christmas there. Her short adjourn was a study in irony, since she’d returned early in January, betrothed to the duke next door. She’d fallen heart over head in love with his sharp wit, kind blue eyes and devilish grin.

  He’d declared then and there that he had to have her and refused to wait.

  She’d insisted on a reasonable betrothal period and a summer wedding.

  A whirlwind month later, she’d been wedded and thoroughly bedded to a man who had a stubborn streak that was as devilish as his grin.

  She’d lost her heart completely, but she wasn’t about to lose the rest of herself in the fogbank of his autocratic whims. To use his sentiments, one way or another, her husband would have to learn to appreciate the woman he fell in love with.

  Devon straightened and turned to her. Evelyn’s gaze slid over his naked chest and lingered. He was tall and lean, and she could attest to every inch of his body feeling as rock-hard as it looked.

  “When you look at me like that,” he said, his voice low and gruff, “you set fire to my blood.”

  He advanced slowly, his eyes darkening with desire. He reached the end of the bed and held out a hand to her.

  Evelyn went willingly. Her wrap slipped forgotten to the floor as she walked into his arms. His mouth descended over hers in a kiss that skittered heat through her veins. She stretched her full length against him, pushing her fingers through his short hair. She loved the feel of his body, hard and warm through the sheer cotton of her nightgown.

  When his kisses trailed down her throat, his bristled jaw raked pleasure across her sensitive skin and she almost purred.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips moving over the curve of her shoulder. “I’ll never get my full.”

  He pulled back, his arms looped around her waist, and looked deep into her eyes. “I love you, darling. You embrace life with a passion that tripped my heart the day we met and every new day I fall a little harder. You are my world.”

  His thigh nudged her legs apart and he lowered her backward over the bed. Just in time, because his words seemed to have melted every bone in her body.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered as he came over her. “We’ll keep falling together and never hit the ground.”

  This, everything she was feeling right now, from her melted bones to her bursting heart, made up the list of reasons why she didn’t want to be at odds with her husband.

  Chapter Five

  South and East London Assembly of Risqué Sports. The fairly innocuous banner had been strung over the Sungate Lodge entrance of the new Battersea Park. Some of Lily’s misgivings dissipated as they passed beneath and turned north onto the perimeter carriage drive.

  “You’ve been quiet all morning.” Evelyn gave her a sympathetic smile. “Is your head still troubling you?”

  Lily returned the smile. “Not at all.”

  She’d retired directly after supper last night, pleading a headache. The events of the afternoon had come crashing down on her, overloading her mind and draining her body.

  Each and every time she’d tried to tell Evelyn about yesterday, the words had jumbled in her throat. She didn’t know where to start, what to say and what to leave out.

  Lily was determined to believe the entire episode resided in her head and she was terrified the cold facts would conspire against her if she listed them out loud—or even thought about them for too long. It would be too easy for the ridiculous to make sense, for the impossible to sound plausible, when her counter-excuses and explanations were so flimsy.

  Evelyn faced
her from the opposite bench. Her usual sophisticated elegance drowned in the full-length velvet cloak she wore from last winter’s season, before the Paris summer had reduced the wide crinolines to panelled skirts and single petticoats.

  There was nothing unusual, however, about the curious gleam in her eyes. “Then it must be Lord Dashing who’s occupying all your thoughts.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”

  “Pah. Even after—especially after the mysterious incidents of yesterday, I find more and more to recommend in the man.”

  “I’m not surprised. You love to flirt with danger and Lord Adair has it steaming from his pores.” The image of smoke billowing from his celludrone’s trousers was instantaneous and so vivid, Lily could almost taste the acrid smell of melted celluloid and burnt hair. The impact shuddered down her spine.

  Evelyn didn’t miss it. She leaned forward and spoke softly. “I’m as good at keeping confidences as I am at flirting. Won’t you talk to me?”

  Lily opened her mouth.

  To say what?

  Evelyn knew about the spells she suffered from. But this time she’d felt things she shouldn’t know how to feel. White-cold fear. The vibration of death rattling through her veins.

  This time she’d seen things her imagination couldn’t begin to fabricate. If it had been a premonition, a glimpse into a future that Lord Adair had abruptly changed with his quick actions, how did she explain him having the exact same vision?

  And she was right back to where she’d started, giving far too much credence to a stupid flaw inside her head that had nothing to do with reality.

  “There’s not much more to say than what I’ve already told you,” she said instead. “You did promise to drop the matter.”

  Evelyn looked at her a moment more, then sat back in her bench and moved her probing gaze outside the carriage’s small window. “And you promised to at least attempt to enjoy the outing.”

  “The midday sun is high and I have my walking boots on,” Lily said lightly. She’d attended the official opening by Queen Victoria last month and had been immediately entranced with Battersea Park. The lakes and rock features were spectacular. One could stroll for miles along the leafy paths and prettily arched pedestrian bridges laid out over the park. “I’m fully prepared to have a glorious day.”

  The drive cut through a tall ridge of Elm trees and then a flat, grassy field stretched before them. Large tents, most striped in vivid colours, had been erected along one side of the field. Ladies in all their finery strolled back and forth. Well-dressed children darted in and around their harassed-looking nannies and the activities.

  The men, far outnumbering the female contingent, seemed less particular and their attire ran the gauntlet from three-piece suits with neck cloths to barely-dressed at all in tweed trousers and linen shirts. Hundreds of conversations bled into each other and rumbled up into the Aether.

  “I never realised risqué sports had become so popular,” Lily said as the carriage drew to a halt.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to make Devon understand.” Evelyn flung open the door and stepped down before William had even jumped down from the driver box. “William, see if Mrs. Browning has arrived.” To Lily, who was making her own way from the carriage, she added, “I’m sure you’ll adore Mrs. Browning once you get to know her. We invested in our Pedallosopede together and thank goodness, for I daren’t keep it at home. Besides, Mr. Browning is excellent with anything mechanical and he’s taught William to help maintain the gears and chains.”

  Lily, who had no idea what a Pedallosopede was, cast her eye across the field. There didn’t seem to be any actual sport in progress. The tents, on the other hand, with banners advertising trades of everything from lemon ices to parasols to spare parts, were hives of activity. The large marquee decorated with towering cakes looked particularly promising. It was also in the opposite direction to which Evelyn tugged her.

  “Come on,” Evelyn was saying, “I’ll show you around while we wait for William.”

  They approached a nearby cluster of men and the tight circle spread open to include them. In the centre, a peculiar sort of cycling machine was mounted on a wooden block. The front and back spindled wheels were of equal size and much smaller than the velocipedes that had become so popular around town in the last year.

  A man sat across the main bar on a spoon shaped seat, pedalling slowly and going nowhere. The wheels were attached to the block in such a way that they could spin without touching the ground. Extending from each pedal was a long, flat oar attached to both the wheels and pedals on a hinge system that allowed the oar to flap rather than spin as you pedalled. Steel pipes rose from the core of each wheel to form a triangle over the man’s head and what looked like a deflated windbag hung from the point.

  “There’s the steam machine.” Evelyn pointed to a steel box wedged into the frame structure between the man’s legs. “Pedalling turns the gears and the generated steam pushes through the pipes to inflate the balloon.”

  “Remarkable for such a small machine.” As Lily watched, the windbag filled with hot air, expanding into a miniature dirigible dome above the man’s head.

  “The challenge is keeping the entire contraption as light as possible. The more weight reserved for the water canister, the longer we can paddle.”

  “How fast does it go?” Lily asked nervously.

  “Not very fast at all,” sighed Evelyn. “But there are new improvements almost every time we meet.”

  “Evelyn, there you are.” A slight woman around their age and dressed in varying shades of grey worked her way into a space beside Evelyn. “Our parcels have finally arrived. I’ve arranged a private tent for us to change in and—” she stopped short when her gaze met Lily’s.

  Evelyn stepped back, drawing them away from the men as she made the introductions. “Mrs. Browning. My dear friend, Lady Lily d'Bulier.”

  “I do hope you’ll be paddling with us,” Mrs. Browning said with a wide smile. “It’s simply wonderful to have another female joining our ranks.”

  “Thank you, but no,” Lily hedged. “I’m merely here…” Movement over Mrs. Browning’s shoulder caught her eye. The Pelladop—Peddapol—the air paddler was moving and it wasn’t going forward. It was rising. In the air! “Um…to watch.”

  “Well, that’s simply wonderful too.”

  Up it floated, higher and higher.

  The man’s foot slipped from the pedal and things got a little wobbly at the sudden jerk.

  There were cries from below.

  “Engage the tilt flaps.”

  “Steady on. Steady on.”

  “Lean to the left.”

  Lily’s stomach turned over.

  “Mrs. Browning and I met at the Surrey assemblies earlier this year,” Evelyn said. “She was down there visiting her great uncle, Baron Lambrose. He farms over a hundred hectares and the manor house is quite charming. He’s well respected in the area.”

  The air paddler seemed to have found his balance again, but Lily was far from reassured.

  If Evelyn had noticed the pandemonium in the sky, she wasn’t letting it stall her praise of the Browning family. “Mr. Browning is a senior clerk at the Magistrates’ Court and he’s in the process of negotiating terms to open his own law office.”

  “Will you excuse us for one second, Mrs. Browning?” Lily said sweetly. She gripped Evelyn by the arm and pulled her aside.

  “I know,” Evelyn said. “The Browning’s aren’t of the social standing—”

  “It’s not the quality of the company you’re keeping that concerns me.” Lily prodded at the air paddler with her eyes.

  Evelyn’s gaze followed. “He’ll take her up a few more feet and then change gear to the horizontal flaps and start going forward.”

  “Evie, that thing is flying. In the sky.”

  Evelyn laughed softly. “What did you think air paddling was?”

  “You can paddle air just as well a few inches above
the ground while the wheels stay firmly on the ground,” she retorted through a clenched jaw.

  “What would be the point in that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Lily glared at her. “Not getting yourself killed?”

  “It’s no more dangerous than hot air ballooning. You really mustn’t worry so, Lily, I promise you it’s safe. Ah, there’s William with the Pedallosopede.” She waved him over while pulling Lily back in Mrs. Browning’s direction. “Now, Margaret, you mentioned that our bloomer suits had come?”

  Mrs. Browning’s eyes lit up. “I’ve been awfully good and haven’t even peeked. Do you think we could…?”

  “We most certainly should. Bloomer suits,” she informed Lily, “are the latest in high fashion amongst the New York sporting set, although they’ve taken to calling it practical fashion.”

  William arrived, pushing the air paddler alongside and clamping the detached oars beneath one arm. He was a tall, lanky fellow and his head almost reached the top of the triangular frame. “Mr. Browning said he’d be along in a minute to lubricate the chains and he wants to check the steam valves.”

  “Thank you, William. We’ll leave you to it, then, while we go and change.”

  Lily declined accompanying them to the private tent. She’d only rain on their enthusiasm. Which would be fine, except Evelyn wasn’t listening.

  William set the oars carefully on the ground and wheeled the air paddler toward her. “Would you mind holding this, m’lady, I need to find a mounting block.”

  “No, of course not.” She grasped a handle bar in each hand, standing at an awkward angle to avoid her skirts touching the chains and gears. How on earth did Evelyn manage to pedal this thing without shredding her petticoats?

  A few more air paddlers had taken to the skies, some still rising and others drifting forward at a snail’s pace, all peddling furiously. Children ran along the side of the field, cheering them on. The ladies observed in a more decorous manner while the men shouted up a medley of instructions and conflicting advice.

  Lily couldn’t comprehend the fascination of floating precariously in mid-air. One over-zealous gust of wind would end up in disaster.