He shoved himself to his feet. “You worry too much. It’ll all work out, especially once they see this marvelous machine of yours at work. I need coffee and breakfast. Then I’m off to meet Lord Lawrence at the British Museum to view the Rosetta Stone. Before you chastise me, he’s a potential investor so time spent with him won’t be wasted. Although I have wondered what you were off doing during the Wolfford ball when your sudden absence prevented you from dancing with him.” His gaze was penetrating, and she was left with the impression that he might know exactly what she was doing in that little nook behind the wolf statue. “We all need our escapes, Nora.”
As he strode from the room, she was fairly certain he was communicating that she shouldn’t begrudge him his escapades. That, somehow, he knew she’d been no saint. She’d had moments when her focus had wandered from their purpose for being here, when she’d gone off course.
She’d do so again tonight. Perhaps she should stay in, but Rook had become rather like an addiction. The more she had of him, the more she wanted of him. Like absinthe. Too much did no one any favors. But the mixture of sweetness and tartness caused even the most stalwart of souls to stray into the oblivion it provided.
When she was with Rook, she didn’t have to search for topics of conversation because he took an interest in anything she said. He listened; he asked questions. They carried on an actual discussion, equally contributing. She never felt as if she was spouting a monologue by which someone was pretending to befascinated—even as she could see the dulling of eyes, the faraway looks.
Rising, she walked over to the writing machine and lovingly traced her fingers over the keys. She imagined skimming them over his skin. Even when they weren’t talking, they were communicating. She wanted to explore him inside and out. But she was left with the impression he allowed very few inside... he was a fortification.
She had a strong desire to breach the walls in order to prove that she could be to him what he’d become to her: the air she breathed, the sun that warmed, the shelter from storms. With him, she could be her true self without fear of recriminations or mocking. With him, she felt safe.
Therefore, she would slip out late this evening, meet with him, and enjoy whatever he wanted to show her. She would have an escape from worries, cares, and the numerous responsibilities.
And just perhaps, perhaps, tonight she would be able to discern all the intricacies of him that thus far had managed to circumvent satisfying her inquisitiveness.
To reduce the chances of being spotted, Rook knew he should be waiting in the mews, but he wanted to ensure Nora encountered no trouble on her way to meet him. While the streets were mainly deserted of traffic, people were still wandering around, either going to or leaving the nearby pub. Therefore, he was standing with a shoulder pressed against the bookshop wall that faced a side street. From his vantage point, he had a clear view of the hotel—had even seen her brotherleaving the establishment earlier. But he, himself, had faded into the shadows so it would take a discerning eye to realize he was even there.
It had pleased him immensely that she’d shared the shortened version of her name with him. Perhaps that was the reason he’d promised to show her something special tonight, spending the better part of the day ensuring he was able to deliver on his promise. If matters hadn’t materialized as he’d hoped, he could have provided an alternative, but he doubted any would please her as much as the prize he had worked diligently to secure. Being a lord had gone a long way toward helping his cause. Being able to place an exorbitant amount on palms had gone a lot further. There was definitely an advantage to having spare coins on hand with which to indulge one’s whims.
Yet he suspected for her, it would be something she treasured. Even if it wasn’t something she could disassemble and study in detail. The anticipation of her pleased reaction was greater than it should be, he knew that. However, its intensity had caused him to stand here for longer than two hours already, growing more eager by the moment for her to arrive.
What the devil was wrong with him that he couldn’t go two minutes without thinking of her, of wondering what contraption might have caught her fancy as she went about her day? That afternoon, he’d almost called on her like a besotted suitor, when he was anything but—
He merely enjoyed her company. She’d be leaving soon, and he wanted to make the most of whatever time remained to them.
Because of his positioning, he spied her the moment she reached the two glass doors through which peopleentered and exited the hotel. Before the well-placed liveried footman had even tugged one open for her, Rook was crossing the street with long strides that were slightly quicker than his usual pace. He refused to consider why it was that he had this overwhelming need to have her presence within his orbit as soon as possible.
When she smiled softly, hesitantly, almost shyly, all the worrisome chatter in his head quieted like the gong of Big Ben when the hammer struck it for the final time to mark the hour. The echo of the ringing remained on the air for a while, but there was an awe to the power that had created it to begin with and, as she’d pointed out last night, a somberness that settled in when the hammer went still.
He realized with a jolt that he was going to miss her rare smiles.
She waited at the edge of the pavement for him to take those last two steps that brought him near enough that he could smell her jasmine fragrance. He offered his arm, and she entwined hers around it, and the satisfaction he experienced was at once fulfilling and troublesome, but he refused to let any doubts deter him from enjoying her. He’d hash out these confounding emotions later.
They were strolling back the way he’d come.
“I’ve spent a good deal of time today trying to guess what the something is that you want to show me,” she said.
“I doubt with even a thousand guesses that you would be correct.”
“Is it something I’ll be able to tell people about?”
“I’m unsure as to how you’d do it without revealing you hadn’t had a chaperone present. I suppose if youcan determine how to do that, you could tell anyone you wanted about it. Although I wouldn’t bother with Lord Falstone.”
Her laugh was as airy as a spring breeze. “I danced with him once. I think I bored him.”
“Nonsense. The man is incapable of keeping his attention focused on anything. I once saw him nod off during a derby. And he had a horse racing in it.” A slight tightening of her hold on him conveyed that she appreciated his effort to direct the fault away from her. Why any man didn’t hang onto her every word was beyond his comprehension.
Once they were in his carriage and trundling through the streets, she asked, “Are you going to tell me where we’re headed?”
“It would ruin the surprise.” And his enjoyment of watching the delight cross her features when it was finally revealed.
Good Lord. She could hardly fathom that she was inside the Clock Tower, staring at the three beautiful gear trains that kept everything moving: the hands on the clocks, the quarter bells, and Big Ben itself.
Trudging up the spiral staircase to get here, she must have placed her feet on a thousand steps. She would have climbed a thousand more to obtain this view. On their way here, the guide had explained that every three days he reset the weights used to control the pendulum. Therefore, she was studying the workings of what was probably the largest pendulum clock in the world.
Her father had once given her a cuckoo clock for Christmas. She’d taken it apart with such care, worried that she might stop the carved wooden bird from showing itself and singing its little song. However, she’d successfully put it all back together, but what she was now looking at was far more complicated. Her fingers were opening and closing, itching to have her tools in hand, so she could more thoroughly examine what was before her.
And yet she couldn’t help but feel that it would be sacrilegious to disturb even a single cog of this magnificent work of art.
