Her Own Devices (21 page)

Now it was her turn to glance at James. “Mr. Stephenson, it is hardly likely I would be bored by the results of my own—”

“Now, Claire,” James said in a low tone, attempting to lead her away from the group. “Ross Stephenson is a bit old-fashioned. I’ve kept his knowledge of our arrangements fairly simple so that—”

She cut him off. “Do you mean to tell me he does not know of my involvement?”

“That is correct.”

She tried to keep her voice low and her face pleasant, in case anyone watching should think they were actually having a quarrel. “Then you must inform him of the truth. It is terribly rude to allow him to labor under a misconception.”

“As I said, he’s old-fashioned. In his mind, women belong in the ballroom, not the laboratory.”

“It is time he was educated.”

“It is not the time. Claire, you are making a scene.”

“A scene!” He had no idea of the kind of scene she could make. “Do you ever plan to tell him the truth?”

“Of course, dear, just as soon as the contracts are signed. His opinion of a woman’s place is of no consequence anyway. In the larger scheme, it is your name going on the patent.”

“But James, if he is to give me a letter of recommendation, he must know of my involvement, to the last line and measurement!”

“All in good time, dear. First we must get his commitment to the venture in writing. Everything else will follow from that.”

She didn’t know whether to be mollified or not. But she did know one thing: It was ridiculous that James and Andrew should go off in one gleaming steam landau while she and Tigg were taken out into the countryside in another like a pair of babies in a pram.

Lady Elizabeth turned out to be the widow of an impoverished lord, and had received Mr. Stephenson’s courtship with open arms. His grown children had not needed her guidance as a parent, but they needed her cachet as they made their debuts in London, and held her in some affection as a result.

Claire endured yet another description of the daughter’s ballgowns and wondered where on earth the men had got to. If they didn’t come and save her from this poor woman, she would grab Tigg and run screaming down the mile-long drive. That young man had found a book in the library, and was on the couch opposite, poring over drawings of locomotives and sounding out the words and figures, his lips moving silently.

Lucky Tigg. At least he had something of interest to occupy his mind.

At last came the crunch of gravel in the sweep outside, and Lady Elizabeth smiled brightly. “This will be Ross and dear Lord James. I do hope they have enjoyed themselves together.”

“I am quite sure they have.”

The men came in then, all bonhomie and full of plans for the future. In her days at St. Cecelia’s Academy for Young Ladies, Claire had endured plenty of moments when she had felt shut out and ignored. But it hadn’t been like this. It was one thing to be excluded from a discussion of who would partner whom when the Heathbourne boys came across the square for a joint dance class. It was quite another to be excluded from a discussion of her own invention.

On purpose.

By the man who was supposed to hold her in such esteem.

Any tender feelings that might have taken root during his confession on the beach were rapidly being blasted to ruin with every course during the interminable dinner. She was thankful Tigg had gone away with the upstairs maid to supper in the unused nursery with his book and then bed. He had tumbled to what was going on before ten minutes had passed, and his natural instinct to right what he saw as a terrible misunderstanding would get him into more trouble than Claire was willing to allow.

When the men finally joined her and Lady Elizabeth in the drawing room after their brandy, she was barely able to be civil, and Lady Elizabeth had actually gone so far as to ask gently if she were suffering from a headache.

After that, Claire pulled herself together. Her hostess did not deserve her bad temper. She made an extra effort to be smiling and kind, to the point that Lady Elizabeth was charmed to forgetfulness and would afterward to refer to her as “Lady Claire, that dear child, such a pity.”

Mr. Stephenson poured cognac into a glass and handed it to Lord James. “A toast, my friend, to our success. I’ll come down with you tomorrow and see this chamber in action. Then we’ll want to build a prototype at my ironworks.”

“After the contracts are signed,” James put in.

“Of course, of course, old man.” James accepted the glass and toasted his host with it.

Andrew took one as well. “Here’s a thought for both of you. The Royal Society has been buzzing for days about the new exhibits going in at the Crystal Palace. I submit that our chamber is at least as ground-breaking as any of those engines. Why don’t we enter it?”

Claire drew in a breath. Dr. Craig’s device—her own moving truss—both working together in an environment where every scientist in the city could see it ... what a grand opportunity to reveal the inventors of both! Even without Mr. Stephenson’s letter of recommendation, the fact that she had an exhibit in the Crystal Palace would guarantee her a seat in the engineering program. Nothing could trump that.

She could barely keep her seat on the Nile green brocade settee.

“That’s a capital idea,” Mr. Stephenson said. “I thought you were a man of science, Mr. Malvern, but I see you are adept at the public side, as well.”

“Not really,” Andrew said modestly. “But I do know that having an exhibit in the Crystal Palace will raise the visibility of our device throughout England ... and across the ocean.”

Mr. Stephenson snorted. “If by that you mean the Americas, I wouldn’t worry about them. They’re so busy scrambling to keep up with us that they have no time to develop anything original on their own.”

“They do pay well, though,” Andrew said. “Did you hear that they have tempted Count Zeppelin to build a shipyards at a place called Lakehurst, New Jersey, so that the lords of industry will have access to domestic airships?”

“I did not hear that,” Mr. Stephenson replied. “Avery Cunard will not appreciate his monopoly being broken by Prince Albert’s countrymen, no-ho, not one bit.”

“In any case, it is said to be the single largest international deal to be signed since our glorious Queen came to the throne.”

Lady Elizabeth looked pained. “Must we speak of money? Come, Mr. Stephenson, gentlemen. Let us turn to more civilized topics.”

The lady had exchanged a title for a fortune. Perhaps she was sensitive on the subject. Claire wished she had not spoken, though. Her father had never discussed such interesting subjects at home, and now that she was being exposed to them when she was with Andrew and James, she was developing quite a taste for them.

German-designed airships to be built in the Americas. Fascinating.

“I believe you should exhibit the chamber at the Crystal Palace,” she said. “The timing could not be better. Were you not just telling me on the journey, James, that the exhibit should come first, and then, when excitement is at its highest pitch, the announcement of your joint venture with Mr. Stephenson could be made.” She smiled at him so sweetly that sugar crystals practically formed in the air.

Mr. Stephenson clapped James on the back and laughed. “O-ho, you have it all planned out, like the man of vision I knew you to be.”

James shot Claire a look that promised they would be revisiting the “women should be seen and not heard” edict later on. “It is kind of you to remind me, dear. Not only will we gain visibility for the device, as Andrew suggests, but the Midlands Railway Company will be seen as leading the van of progress when it adopts a new technology.”

“Capital!” Mr. Stephenson beamed at them all, and Claire prevented herself with difficulty from rolling her eyes.

After that, of course, their host was feeling expansive enough to allow his wife to play a tune or two on the piano. Claire declined his invitation, however. Playing and singing were not talents she was willing to inflict on the present company. If he were to suggest target practice, that would be a different matter, but it did not seem likely.

Though the public rooms were lighted with electricks, the upper floors were not, so the guests were given lamps to light their way to bed. James stopped Claire outside the door to her room as Andrew passed them. “Good night, Claire. James. We will have an early start tomorrow, so I wish you a good rest.”

“Thank you,” Claire said.
Stay
, her heart cried.
Talk to me. Reassure me that James will not ride roughshod over both of us. Hold me.

“A word, dear, if you are not too tired?”

She silenced the longing inside and turned to her fiancee. “Here, in the passage?”

“Certainly not. In here.”

“James, this is my room.”

“I am aware of that. It will offer us some privacy.”

“That would not be proper, engaged or not. What would our hostess say?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. In this one, then.”

At the top of the stairs was a small room fitted out with bookshelves and a couple of chairs. The titles were those Claire had read in her childhood. Perhaps the first Mrs. Stephenson had sat here and read stories to her children at bedtime. In any case, it would do for the present.

“If you are simply going to wish me good-night, we could have done that in the passage.”

He ignored this pleasant beginning. “I’m sure you are aware how dangerous your behavior was tonight.”

Well. Nothing like jumping right in with both feet. “Certainly not. I had a good idea and attributed it to you, just as a self-sacrificing, supportive fiancee should.”

“Sarcasm is an unbecoming trait in a woman.”

“As is deceit in a man.”

“I am deceiving no one. As I explained to you before, we are just being careful about the timing of the information we give. To everything there is a season.”

“And it is my season to be cast in your shadow?”

He gazed at her as she perched bolt upright on the chair opposite him. “I had not suspected this need for recognition in you, this constant desire to be in the spotlight. It is unwomanly.”

“I desire no such thing, except to receive credit where it is due. You are baldly taking credit for my ideas and hard work, and it is becoming increasingly hard to bear. How I shall get through the next couple of days in Mr. Stephenson’s company without telling him the truth, I do not know.”

“Then perhaps you should retire to your cottage by the river and look after your charges.”

Her temper was rolling at a fine boil by now. “Perhaps I should do so on a permanent basis.”

“What do you mean?”

“I cannot live like this, James.”

“Like what? In modesty, content to allow men of business to conduct their business?”

“It is
my
business as well. Andrew treats me as an equal. He would never dream of passing off my ideas as his own, temporarily or not.”

“Ah, Andrew. And do you view him as such a paragon, and me a villain?”

“I base my views on observation, as any good scientist would do.”

“But you are not a scientist.”

“Perhaps not yet by education, but certainly by inclination.”

“And do you see your current behavior as promoting those ends?” For a moment she was silenced, and he followed up on his advantage. “I have not made up my mind yet about whether to do as your mother asks and insist on an autumn wedding, or to allow you to attend university.”

Her jaw tightened at
insist
and
allow
, words that he wielded as carelessly as he wielded power over her.

“I have noticed that,” she said with forced calm. “Particularly in your mention of the letters of recommendation. But I do not need Mr. Stephenson’s letter. Not if we exhibit the device and my name is on the patent.”

“The name of a willful, self-aggrandizing woman will not go on that patent.”

She stared at him, fingers twisting in the satin folds of the bottle-green dinner gown she had borrowed from her mother, as her blood slowed in its course and froze with horror. “What did you say?”

“I am completely willing to put the name of a cooperative, supportive woman on that patent and acknowledge her help in creating the device. I am not so willing to do so for someone who will not do as I ask, who is short-sighted and selfish, and who puts her own needs before those of others and endangers a business venture that has been in the making for two long years.”

It took at least ten seconds before Claire could master herself and not fly at him the way the Mopsies would, fingernails first.

“Are you blackmailing me?” she whispered through stiff lips.

“Certainly not. Simply presenting the terms of an agreement.”

She must break off their engagement. She must rid herself of this man as soon as possible before she committed an act of which society would most certainly not approve. Her trigger finger twitched, and she wound her fingers together.

But if she jilted him, he would certainly expunge her name from the patent, from the exhibit, from the application that would gain her what she so dearly wanted.

Just another few days.

Once her name was published on that patent, she would throw him over so hard his posterior would never recover.

“As you wish,” she finally said.

“You will abide by my terms and stop endangering this deal with your behavior?”

“Yes.”

He let out a long breath. “I am glad.” Rising, he took her cold hand and helped her to her feet. “Thank you. I realize my methods have dampened your spirits somewhat, but in the long run you will not regret it.”

She did not answer, simply preceded him to the door of her room.

“You look very nice tonight, Claire. May I say that that color suits you admirably.”

The door closed in his face.

“Lady,” Tigg said as the gentlemen left the salon car and went forward to talk to the engineer on the long, flat run before the grade into London, “I fink the Mopsies are right.”

Claire felt fit to burst out of her corset. “What about, Tigg?” She leapt to her feet and began to pace from one end of the car to the other. Ten down, ten back, her traveling skirts swishing like the tail of an angry cat.