The Dunsmuirs’ joy at learning Claire was not among the angels knew no bounds. Lady Dunsmuir fell on her neck rejoicing, and even the earl clasped her hands in both of his, tears standing in his eyes.
“Never for a moment would we have left you if we had known you were alive,” he said, his voice breaking. “But the flood was so fierce it did not seem that anything could survive it.”
“It’s the Lady,” Willie informed his father, as though fire, flood, or act of God was irrelevant where she was concerned. He clasped her legs through her skirts and gazed up at her with such happiness that Claire couldn’t help but kneel to hug him.
His parents, of course, thought he referred to her title. “It is, indeed, darling,” the countess said. “And I have never seen a more welcome sight.”
“Then allow me to offer you another.” Claire handed her one of Alaia’s mats, rolled into a tube. She and Alice had scrubbed away all evidence of the diamonds’ misadventures in the hatbox, where Rosie had used them for a cushion, and when the mat unfurled on the mahogany dining table, their full beauty glittered in the lamplight.
Lady Dunsmuir gasped. “But how—where—oh Claire, we thought they were lost forever! Even when Will told us they were safe, I did not believe him. I am sorry, my darling, but I did not see how it could be true.”
Claire smiled at Willie, and Tigg rubbed the top of his head with rough affection. “Willie, the girls, and Tigg put them into a hatbox with Rosie, attached a small dirigible, and launched them into the air the same moment that—” She stopped and glanced at Jake, who had just emerged from the earl’s hard clasp looking rather ruffled.
“The same moment as I went into the lake,” he finished. “Wish I’d seen ’em. Rosie wouldn’t’ve had to spend a night shut up in a box elsewise.”
“Jake, my dear boy.” Captain Hollys appeared, breathing rather heavily, as though he’d run all the way from the gondola. “One of the middies just told me he’d seen you board.” He shook his hand, pumping it so hard Jake’s jaw flexed in an effort not to wince. “I am so very glad to see with my own eyes that you are safe and unharmed.”
“Thank you, sir.” The boy swallowed, then stood straighter. “I want to apologize to you all. I done so to the Lady, but I want you folk—I mean to say—” His lips trembled and his voice broke. “I wouldn’t ’ave done it if they ’adn’t threatened to kill you, starting wiv the youngest. Turned me coat, I mean. I were sorry then and I’m sorry now.” He stumbled to a halt.
“My dear fellow.” The earl shook his hand a second time. “One doesn’t come back from the dead to apologize. Consider it forgotten, and we will go on as we began—as friends.”
Jake’s face crumpled, and it was only with a heroic effort—and a glance at Tigg, who would never let him live it down if he wept like a girl—that he blinked his tears back and clasped the earl’s hand in return.
Lady Dunsmuir gasped. “John! We must send a pigeon at once to Gwynn Place. Poor Flora—she must hear this happy news at once, before she undergoes the dreadful trial of a funeral.”
In the air hung the word again, which Davina was too delicate to say.
Claire put a soothing hand on her black silk sleeve. Black—could she be wearing mourning for Claire herself? “Do not distress yourself. We have already done so, with a message in my own hand so she knows the happy truth.”
Her ladyship beamed with relief and did not seem to wonder where Claire had obtained her information. “You must fetch the girls—why are they not with you?—and bring them to dinner. We will be lifting in the morning, and were having something of a send-off. It was to be rather a sober affair, but now we shall have a real celebration. Claire, you will never guess who our other guest is.”
“The Prince Consort?” she asked, as though she could not possibly already know.
“Lord James Selwyn!”
Tigg sucked in a breath through his nose, and the earl did not miss the cautioning hand Jake laid on his shoulder. “Are you young men acquainted with his lordship?” he asked.
“Aye,” Tigg said with admirable brevity.
Lady Dunsmuir looked from them to Claire. “Now I know that you are no longer engaged, of course, but he has crossed two continents to see you, in the midst of his business affairs. I cannot help but think—”
“Dear Davina.” Claire did her best to remember how one acted with blushing modesty. “Really, you must not suppose that he … that there is any danger of …”
“That he’s still carryin’ the torch,” Tigg put in with an edge to his tone.
“Yes.” Oh dear, she must not laugh. Not when Davina had put her fingers to her lips in distress at the thought that she might have embarrassed Claire.
“Oh Claire, surely you are mistaken. Why on earth is he wearing mourning for you if he harbors no tender feeling?”
“I cannot imagine. I would be grateful if you would send the message informing him that I am alive and well, so that he is prepared to celebrate rather than mourn. And do not think of trying to mend what is broken. My mind is made up, but that does not mean we cannot be civil to one another.”
Tigg and Jake stared at her as if she were speaking the language of the Navapai, no doubt wondering why she was actively inviting the blackguard into their company. After kissing Davina and telling her she could not wait another moment to retrieve her clothes and change, she pulled Tigg and Jake into the cabin that had been hers and closed the door.
“Lady, what are you thinking?” Jake’s gaze was wary, but she could tell he expected her to have a reason behind her mad behavior.
“Just this. If Lord James is here indulging in the earl’s good wine, he will not be at the laboratory tonight when Mr. Malvern goes in. I am going to contrive to have one or two of the barons invited to dinner, if I can, to lessen the chances of his discovery even further.”
“Lady, are you sure?” Tigg’s face creased with doubt. “I wouldn’t want to be within a mile of ’im, meself. What if ’e convinces you to be Lady Selwyn again?”
“I can safely assure you that will never happen.” She chivvied them into the corridor. “Now, Jake, I want you to go find Mr. Malvern and tell him my plans. I will make your excuses to the Dunsmuirs. Tigg, off to your cabin for a scrub and a change. I’m not ashamed to appear anywhere in my raiding rig, but I must say I will be glad to see a waist other than this one.”
Her lovely blue evening gown was gone, confiscated by Ned Mose—no doubt to bestow on Alice’s mother. Claire could not regret that, though it did mean she must appear at dinner in a plain navy skirt with an embroidered white waist more suitable for work in a laboratory than at an earl’s table.
She twisted the St. Ives pearls around her neck—hidden safely under Maggie’s clothes this whole time—and touched her grandmother’s emerald ring with affection. Both pieces went a long way to restoring her confidence.
She was not feeling a dearth of confidence at the prospect of sitting across a dinner table from James. Rather, she needed the pearls to remind herself of who she was—the Lady of Devices, who did not tolerate attacks upon herself or her own. It would take all her self-control not to fling the roast at James’s head for his confounded thievery.
James had removed the black armband, but his face still carried traces of strain in the pinched look around his eyes and a physique that had lost weight in the weeks since she had last seen him.
Claire doubted, however, that these touching proofs could be attributed to his belief in her demise.
“Claire,” he breathed as he came toward her, hand outstretched, in the lounge of the Lady Lucy. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you alive and well.”
“And I you.” She stepped back when it appeared he might take her in his arms, and he bent to kiss her hand as if he had meant to all along. “Thank you for being willing to pay ransom on my behalf.”
Lady Dunsmuir gasped. “Claire, that is hardly a topic to bring up in polite company.”
James smiled at his hostess. “If I have learned nothing else in my business affairs here in the Texican Territory, it is that while the country is beautiful, life here can be unexpectedly brutal, with no regard for polite company. For instance, the airship that carried me south to come to Lady Claire’s assistance barely missed a rock formation that would have wrecked it. Who would have predicted such a thing?”
How convenient it was that they seemed to be in a mood for truth. “It missed the formation—called Spider Woman—because your navigator has quick reflexes. I was up in those rocks signaling with a lantern to turn the ship aside. It was about to be wrecked on purpose by Ned Mose and his gang of sky pirates.”
How satisfying it was to render him completely speechless for once—he who had an answer for everything.
Mr. Stanford Fremont, the most powerful railroad baron in the Texican consortium, nudged James with an elbow. “Saved your life, eh? Maybe there’s a little spark in that cold fire yet.”
James flushed while Claire gazed at the man, marveling at his effrontery. He had only just met her—how very rude of him to make such personal remarks about a stranger!
“I would have done the same had you been on the ship, sir,” she said coolly.
The insult sailed over his leonine head. “I like a woman with spirit. How did she come to be so intrepid, so young?” He rocked back on his heels, his thumbs hooked in the velvet lapels of his dinner jacket.
“I do not call an unwillingness to see a good ship and crew die intrepid, sir. Anyone possessed of a heart, a lamp, and the ability to climb rocks would have done the same.” She turned from him with a polite smile and addressed James. “You have not introduced the others in your party. I should like to make their acquaintance.”
He gathered himself with difficulty. “Certainly. Lady Claire Trevelyan, may I present Garrison Polk, who owns the Silver Nevada Railway, and Lieutenant Robert van Ness, commander of the detachment of Texican Rangers here in Santa Fe.”
She offered her hand graciously to each man. As Lieutenant van Ness bowed over it, he clicked his heels as precisely as any Prussian soldier. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Lady Claire,” he said in accents that confirmed he had not been born on this side of the Atlantic. “Let me assure you the Rangers are doing everything in their power to bring Ned Mose and his crew of miscreants to justice.”
“I hope you find him,” she replied. “It should not be too difficult—his airship has, I believe, been stolen and he is grounded for the time being.”
“There are more ways to get out of Resolution than by air,” the lieutenant growled. “But rest assured we know all of them. It is only a matter of time.”
Lady Dunsmuir came forward and laid a hand on James’s arm. “Dinner is served, gentlemen. James, will you escort me in?”
The villain, patting Davina’s hand on his arm as though she were a child too innocent to see what kind of man he was. Claire set her teeth and thought longingly of the lightning rifle, under her pallet in Alaia’s home.
Never mind. By this time tomorrow they would all be in the air heading for the Canadas, with the rifle once more in her possession and the Carbonator’s cell safely tucked under canvas in her steam landau in the hold.
And then James’s perfidies would all catch up to him with a vengeance. Her only regret was that she would not be here to see it.
Tigg had taken his supper with Willie earlier, but as Lord Dunsmuir cut the roast beef and Davina passed her a plate, as though they dined en famille, her ladyship returned to her previous line of thought.
“Are the girls quite safe, Claire? I must say it surprises me to see you separated.”
“I hope you told them in no uncertain terms that their behavior in leaving us was unconscionable,” John put in. “When we realized what they’d done, I nearly stopped breathing.”
“What had they done?” James inquired. “I’ve long been of the opinion that those children belong in a school or institution of some kind that will impose a little healthy discipline on them.”
Claire’s knife clanked on china as she cut her beef with a little more energy than necessary. “They would not be separated from me,” she said mildly, to cover it up. “They refused to believe I was dead, and came to find me though it might have meant their lives.” Her lashes flicked up. “It is difficult to instill such loyalty in an institution, would you not agree?”
Stanford Fremont gave a bark of laughter. “She’s got you there, James.”
The man’s familiarity was beginning to get on Claire’s nerves.
“But where are they, Claire?” The countess was honestly concerned. “And how did you get from Resolution to Santa Fe? I cannot puzzle it out.”
She smiled. “This land may be brutal, but it harbors people who are willing to help when one is in need. Friends brought us here, and the girls are with them.”
Technically, the girls were with Andrew, acting as his scouts, but he was a friend, was he not?
“I am glad to hear it, though I must say, finding a friend in that dreadful little town is quite an accomplishment.” The countess shuddered.
“They will be aboard in time for lift tomorrow, Claire, I hope?” John asked.
“Of course. You may depend upon it.”
“And that extraordinary hen?”
Lieutenant van Ness leaned forward. “I beg your pardon, sir? Did you say hen?”
“I did. When was the last time you took ship with poultry in your party?” Lord Dunsmuir’s question, Claire was quite sure, was merely rhetorical. “But this bird travels with Lady Claire, and woe betide anyone who mistakes her for a meal.”
“Does she ride your shoulder, as the parrots do in Nouveau France?” Lieutenant van Ness’s eyes twinkled with honest humor, and Claire found herself liking him. What a pity he kept such deplorable company.
“She will if she is forced to, but for the most part, she travels in my hatbox. I lost the hat, alas, somewhere over the eastern part of the Territory.”
“I should like to see this bird. I never would have believed a chicken could possess a spirit of adventure.” Smiling, the lieutenant addressed himself to his dinner.
Claire did as well, it being the first solid food other than poh-soh-lay and the flat bread that she had eaten since she had been ill.
Oh, if only she knew what was happening at the laboratory! But it was miles from here—at the south end of the city, where the railyards were—so she would not have news until Andrew, the girls, and Alaia’s sons returned.
Those boys would fit right in at the Vauxhall Gardens cottage, she was certain. They could hardly contain their anticipation at the prospect of another adventure, and had gone with Andrew before their mother could prevent them.
“So if I might inquire, Lord Dunsmuir, what are your plans from here?” James asked, forking fluffy mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth with appreciation. Perhaps he did not care for the local cuisine as much as others might—and his haggard appearance was due less to emotion than to simple reluctance to eat unfamiliar food.
And then a particular intensity in his eyes caused a frisson of alarm down her back. She did not want James knowing their destination. Who knew what he might be capable of, frustrated and infuriated without the means to power the Carbonator?
She opened her mouth to deflect the conversation to safer waters, but the earl forestalled her. “As I said, we lift in the morning, to continue our voyage to Edmonton.”
“Edmonton,” James murmured. “And the Canadas, I understand, are part of the Empire, under the dominion and laws of our glorious Queen?”
Claire could not imagine why he would state the obvious—he must simply be making dinner conversation for the benefit of their Texican guests.
“Yes, we have a home and many friends there,” Lady Dunsmuir put in. “I am looking forward to introducing Claire to society—I am sure she will be the toast of the town.”
“It seems a certainty,” Lieutenant van Ness said gallantly. “What a pity you are lifting so soon—I would be pleased to show you what rough society we have here.”
“It cannot be so rough if you are a representative of it,” Claire told him with a smile. “Did you spend much time in the court of the Kaiser, sir?”
He smiled while Fremont guffawed. “There’s no putting one over on this young lady, is there?”
Claire suddenly realized why she did not like the man—was it necessary to refer to her in the third person at every opportunity? Did he never make a remark to a woman directly?
“Lady Claire has a good ear,” the lieutenant said. “As it happens, I was in the service of Count von Zeppelin himself.”
“And is he as remarkable an engineer of airships as I have heard?” Claire asked, unable to tamp her eagerness down to polite dinnertime levels. “When I left, I was particularly interested in the new B-30 model, built for military communications and transport at high speeds.”
Fremont guffawed again. He might be rich as Croesus, but he sounded like the donkey in the farm across the river from Gwynn Place.
Lieutenant van Ness did her the courtesy of answering quite seriously. “In fact, a prototype model is at the airfield here. If it were not so late, I would have been honored to give you a tour.”
“I saw it on our way in. What is its top speed?”
“Really, Claire,” murmured Davina.
“Under steam power, and with a tailwind, it has reached speeds of nearly fifty knots—well in excess of the fastest train in England—”
“—the Flying Dutchman,” he and Claire said simultaneously.
James glanced at Fremont with a smile of which an automaton might have been proud. “I feel as though I am at a meeting of the Royal Society of Engineers.”
“Why, thank you, James,” Claire said. “Our voyage may have delayed my plan to attend the university to study engineering, but it has not weakened my intention.”
“Claire, shall we leave the gentlemen to their port and cigars?” Lady Dunsmuir rose gracefully, and Claire had no choice but to follow or appear hopelessly forward and discourteous. “We will have coffee and dessert in the lounge.”
She settled next to Davina on a soft couch near an expanse of glass that would have given them a view of the prototype airship had it not been dark and the drapes drawn.
“Lieutenant van Ness seemed quite taken with you.” Davina offered her a Sevres porcelain cup bearing the Dunsmuir crest picked out in gold. “It is almost a shame we are leaving so soon. But I cannot be altogether sorry.” She lowered her voice. “It is only by chance and misfortune that we are here at all, of course. I have asked John to convey my wishes to Captain Hollys that we make for Edmonton with all possible speed. The sooner we are in the Canadas, the happier I will be.”
“It has not all been misfortune,” Claire said softly, stirring cream into her coffee. “I have met some wonderful people.” Without Alice and Alaia, her life would have been the poorer. As it was, she did not know how she was going to say goodbye to Alice, knowing it was unlikely she should ever see her again.
“I am glad to hear it, but weighed in the balance against these few are people like Ned Mose, and Jake’s near death, and now poor dear James’s own brush with mortality.” Davina tasted her coffee and looked up. “He came all that way to ransom you. Are you sure that, whatever your reasons for breaking your engagement, they are valid now?”
“Quite sure.” Claire sipped her own coffee.
“But in the face of such devotion—his face when he came in and saw you—”
“Davina, it pains me to speak of him. There are things you do not know.”
“There always are,” the countess said with a sigh. “It is a great pity. He would be a fine match.”
“Socially, perhaps, but in no other way, shape, or form.” It was long past time to change the subject. “I am glad we are leaving sooner rather than later. Tell me, do you think this climate is healthy for Will? I hope he is not developing a cough from the aridity and the dust?”
This sent Davina into a lengthy commentary on the health of her beloved boy, and Claire nodded and smiled in all the right places. Not for worlds would she hurt Davina’s feelings after she had been so good to her and the children, but some topics were so distasteful that the less time spent with those words upon the tongue, the better.
When the gentlemen came in and settled on the couches for their dessert, there was no more talk of eligible men. Instead, the talk turned to what Claire supposed was inevitable—railroads and the prospects for more of them.
She was content to occupy her couch, back straight, an interested smile upon her lips, while all the time she counted hours and steps and miles, wondering where Andrew and the girls were and whether they had accomplished their mission. In fact, within half an hour she was quite ready to bid her host and hostess goodbye for the evening, and make her way back to the village to wait for news of them.
She had just put her plate down after finishing a dessert that resembled pumpkin pie but certainly was not, when there was a thump on the decks below, and the sound of raised voices.
Claire and Davina both glanced toward the door, and the lieutenant half rose. “Is there some trouble below?”
A shout was his answer, and Lord Dunsmuir and the Chief Steward started for the door at the same time. A scuffle could be heard on the gangway, and then a muffled curse in a voice Claire could swear sounded familiar.
James had risen to his feet as well. “Is that—?”
Three or four men in black coats much like those Claire had seen Andrew wearing in his laboratory appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Fremont, sir!” one of them called.
Between them they held a man who was covered in dust and bruises, his hair flung over his face. His canvas coat appeared to have been dragged along the ground—possibly with him still inside it.
His canvas coat.
Claire started to her feet, but James beat her to it. “Andrew?” he said in tones of utter astonishment. “Stanford, ask your men to release him at once. I know this man.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Stanford Fremont demanded. “Can’t you see we are at dinner with Lord and Lady Dunsmuir?”
The biggest of them gave Andrew a shove, and he stumbled to his knees. “We thought you’d want to talk to him yourselves, sirs,” he said, “seeing as he was trying to steal the power cell right out of the Carbonator. Caught him red-handed, we did, and you know the penalty for thieving here. The only question is, do we shoot him now or wait until dawn?”