The Earl of Brass (The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Book 1) (25 page)

A Caustic Little Voice

Hadley Fenice waited at the window with a sigh as the red steamer broke through the London gloom and chugged down the road. During the three days she had been home, she had not been able to be happy. Despite the smile she incised into her features when she told Eliza and James the news, she was miserable. How could she enjoy her engagement if she was forced to stay quiet about her brother’s anger? She couldn’t tell anyone Adam was avoiding her by leaving at dawn and coming home at midnight without having to explain what transpired, and if asked, she was afraid she would crack. For the past seventy-two hours, she only knew he was around by the opening and slamming of doors. Adam was becoming more of a poltergeist than a brother.

In her hours of solitude, she fashioned the braid she had hacked off before she left into a postiche to pin to the back of her hair to disguise her cropped locks.
At least making wigs for automatons came in handy for something
, she thought when Eliza came over to help press and set her hair into an elaborate coiffure in an attempt to better hide its lack of length. She had only seen Eilian once when he came to warn her about his mother’s invitation, and when asked what she should wear, he suggested the black and white dress he remembered from when she presented his finished prosthesis. Now, here she sat by the window waiting in a hairdo she hated and in an out of style dress she loved. All she could do was wring her hands and rehearse what she had read in her etiquette books.

When his steamer finally turned the corner, she straightened herself out, smoothing the fabric of her dress and touching her bun to make sure it was still firmly attached. Hadley paused behind the door as the bell rang, giving herself a moment to work up a smile. Eilian’s face lit up as he took in her monochromatic dress and bright hair. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and it only made him miss seeing her every day.

“You look breathtaking, Hadley,” he breathed as he kissed her cheek, noticing how she squeezed her eyes shut as he drew near. “What is the matter?”

She sighed. “I had a fight with Adam and am feeling out of sorts.”

“Did he change his mind about the engagement?” Eilian asked as he escorted her into the steamer.

“No, no, it was only a silly spat between siblings.”

His serious expression melted back into guileless glee. “I have your ring, but I don’t want to give it to you until after dinner. I want my family to get to know you and not make conversation about your engagement ring.”

“May I see it?”

“Not yet, I want it to be a surprise, but I think you will like it.”

Hadley peered out the window at the grand brick and stone houses of Grosvenor Square. Even in the waning light, she could make out their massive facades and elaborately coffered doors as they glared at her from behind iron fences. Never did she think she would ever enter one of those houses without carrying a measuring tape and plaster. Thoughts of Adam gnawed at her mind as she followed Eilian up to the door, and she couldn’t help but feel apprehension creep through her veins again and into her trembling hands. She was so far outside her station. The balding, aloof butler opened the door to reveal the checkered marble floor and massive curved staircase trailing up into the upper floors. She marveled at each gilded and carved surface as they were escorted into the parlor. Every eye was on her as she stepped toward Lady Dorset, who sat near the hearth.

“Mother, this is Miss Fenice. Miss Fenice, this is my mother, Lady Dorset,” Eilian began as Hadley curtsied as smoothly and as gracefully as possible.

“How do you do, Miss Fenice,” the formidable widow replied with a probing eye that sought to find fault in the young redhead.

For a moment, Hadley simply examined the stately woman’s face in return, picking out the pieces that reminded her so much of Eilian and Lord Newcastle. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Lady Dorset.”

Eilian then introduced her to his brother and Constance, the latter of the two glared at her suspiciously while the former barely seemed to notice her. Lord Newcastle gave her a genteel bow and mouthed for her not to worry as dinner was announced. The table was laid with a crisp tablecloth of white damask and a low vase filled to overflowing with baby’s breath, roses, and lilies despite it being November. Eilian easily pulled out her chair for her and pushed her in as the others took their seats. Hadley felt sheltered sitting between Eilian and his uncle with Lady Dorset seated at her eldest son’s left hand, but throughout the meal, she felt Constance’s eyes piercing her form. As the footman carried the platters of raw oysters and tureens of soup, Hadley looked up to find the young woman watching her to see if she chose the correct piece of silverware from the array at her plate. By the time the fish course was served, the knot in her breast was loosening as Lord Newcastle led the conversation with humorous anecdotes from his tenure in Palestine.

When the plates were taken away only to be replaced with a fillet of beef, Lady Dorset turned her attention to the young woman with henna hair. “Miss Fenice, I have been wondering, how did you and Lord Sorrell meet?”

Hadley froze, trying to find the right words as to not give herself away. “We met when he came in to make a purchase from the business my brother and I own.”

“And what type of business is it?”

“We inherited my late father’s prosthesis business. We also make toys, specifically dolls and automata dioramas.”

“Have you been successful? I have heard the toy business is highly competitive.”

Millicent Sorrell was genuinely interested, or it appeared so as the stoic woman’s face did not give much away, but Hadley was fairly certain she knew where this conversation was going. Money and dowries.

“Quite successful, Lady Dorset. I never thought I would get married,” Hadley replied as she pushed a mushroom around the edge of her plate, “so with a bit of frugality, I was able to amass a little over ten thousand pounds for when my brother took a wife. I didn’t want to be a burden if he was to ever marry.”

Lady Dorset’s eyes widened, yet she nodded as if pleased. “That is quite a sizeable sum. That is more than your father gave you, is it not, Constance?”

The younger woman prickled, her lips clenching until they were white and barely visible. Hadley returned to her meal, hoping the conversation would drop and she would be safe at least until dessert. As the Sorrells grew silent, Hadley coughed from the tightness in her chest that began to impair her breathing. If Dylan’s wife didn’t hate her before, she definitely did now. Constance’s judgmental eye remained on her, running over her as Edmund Barrister had done in the desert.
Edmund Barrister
. The blood leaking across his chest passed before her eyes but was quickly pushed away. She couldn’t think about that now. The main courses were soon swept away only to be replaced with plates of cakes, fruits, nuts, and cheese.

“Miss Fenice,” the Countess of Dorset began from the end of the table as she helped herself to some pudding, “do you keep the books for your brother? To be able to keep the household accounts is a very useful skill for a woman to have on a large estate.”

Eilian’s eyes locked onto her. Fear permeated his grey irises as he waited for her answer.

“Actually, my brother keeps the books since he is an accountant by trade.” She hesitated. “When my older brother George died, I took over creating the prostheses and automatons. I created the one Lord Sorrell has now and helped to build the one he wore previously.”

“You talked my son into having
that
done to him?” she asked, though her sharp tone made it sound more like an accusation.

She put her hand on her fiancé’s arm as he opened his mouth. “While I came up with the idea and presented it to him, I didn’t hold any sway over his decision. Lord Sorrell was looking for an alternative to his cosmetic prosthesis, and my electric model fit his criteria.”

“You speak very eloquently for a woman who works with her hands.” The countess didn’t bother to glance up from her plate anymore as she spoke. “Did you have a governess as a child?”

“My mother was a governess before she married my father, and she taught us. After her death, my uncle took our education into his hands. He is a professor at Oxford.” Hadley paused to look around the table. The scornful eyes of Dylan and Constance told her they did not approve of her extensive yet informal education. “I have always believed we are all given gifts, whether it’s music, painting, or mathematics, and to squander those gifts simply because they don’t align with one’s sex is a sin. I have absolutely no aptitude for playing the piano or singing, but I understand gears and mechanisms and how to make them beautiful. I would rather be looked down upon for being useful,” she locked eyes with Constance, “than put on a pedestal for knowing nothing of value.”

Hadley’s hands trembled as she cut into her dessert. She knew each one of them was judging her, counting the ways she was unworthy of the young nobleman’s affections. Eliza would have been proud of her, but at times like this, she wondered what her mother or even Adam would have to say about her situation. Tonight there would be no one to confide in when she got home. The party was about to adjourn to the drawing room for tea and coffee when Lady Dorset did not take her brother’s arm.

“Would you escort Miss Fenice, Malcolm? I would like to speak to my son privately.”

Malcolm slowly walked her into the drawing room, noting how rigid the craftswoman had gone, her pulse pounding when their arms touched. “It will be all right, my dear,” he whispered reassuringly. “If you’re willing to be left alone for a few minutes, I will go in and try to smooth things over.”

She nodded, and once she was deposited safely on the sofa with a cup of tea in her unsteady hands, her last ally disappeared down the hall. The china clinked as she struggled to stop the shaking, but with each phrase she caught through the walls, her heart leapt in fear. Lady Dorset’s voice never rose above a stern tone, but Eilian’s outraged replies burst through the plaster. The rustle of the cushion beside her finally brought her back to reality. Constance sat next to her in her mauve dress and jet necklace of mourning. Clearing her throat, she tested her caustic little voice.

“They’re at it again,” she sighed wistfully.

“Again?”

The girl turned to her with angelic, blue eyes. “You mean, you don’t know? They have been fighting ever since he returned home. I don’t think their relationship will survive this kind of turmoil. Since the earl’s passing, Lady Dorset’s health hasn’t been the best, and Dylan told me only yesterday how her doctors have prescribed that she should cut anyone out of her life who brings her undue stress. You may be what finally ruins their relationship.” Constance watched with an inward grin as the redhead’s eyes moistened. “I’m sure you’re worth it though. Would you accompany me on the piano, Miss Fenice?”

Hadley blinked rapidly and bit her lip as she placed the tea cup on the side table. “Please excuse me, Mrs. Sorrell, but I need to speak to Lady Dorset.”

Constance waited until Miss Fenice rounded the corner before flashing her husband a coy smile and leisurely finishing her tea. Her job was done. The voices within the library continued to fiercely battle. Those yelling inside were unable to hear the young woman knocking, and after several unsuccessful tries, she finally opened the door without invitation, closing it softly behind her. It took several seconds for Eilian and his mother to even realize she was there. Only after Malcolm moved toward the tearing woman, did they notice her. She drew in a tremulous breath and stood calmly before his mother.

“Lady Dorset, I would like to thank you for your hospitality, but I must go. This is no place for me.” She squeezed away the image of Adam in her mind. “I can’t— I will not be the cause of your family falling apart. I can’t bear it.”

Eilian’s eyes pleaded with her as he reached for her hand. “Hadley?”

“I’m so sorry, Eilian. I release you from our engagement,” she stated with tears rolling down her cheeks, finally unable to hold back the sobs creeping up her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

Hadley fled the room, heading for the front door as quickly as her dress would allow. They would catch up with her if she waited for the butler to fetch her coat, so she burst out in the glacial November air with bare arms and looked for a cab. Before one could be summoned, she heard Eilian’s voice coming from the house and dove into the nearest alleyway. She couldn’t bear to see him, to have him tell her everything would be all right, and to hold her close. Holding her breath, she watched as Lord Newcastle and Eilian ran past the alley, searching for her and calling her name between ragged breaths. When they finally passed, she emerged from the crevice, rubbing her clammy arms as the rain pattered down.

***

For hours she walked around London, staying on the busy streets filled with crowds leaving plays and restaurants as she tried to clear her head. Her favorite dress was soaked down to her corset, and the rain washed away her elaborate coiffure long ago. After an hour, she stopped caring what others thought of her appearance or if she stepped in puddles. Her slippers were already waterlogged and burned her toes with each icy step. As Big Ben tolled eleven, she broke from the throng of theatre-goers and walked toward Wimpole Street. The roads grew darker and less populated the nearer she drew to the hospitals and rows of doctors’ practices. She smiled when her eyes caught the dull glow of lamps within her cousin’s chambers, but sitting in front of the house was a red steamer. A familiar silhouette with wayward hair appeared in the parlor window. He was speaking until suddenly he put his head in his hands, his shoulders rocking. Hadley slowly turned and walked back to Baker Street. There would be no solace for her tonight. She was utterly alone.