At last, Lady Margaret drew in a breath and spoke. “Papa was asked to fix an industrial loom with a recurring malfunction that had harmed several workers. I begged to go with him, and my parents acquiesced. At the factory, Papa told me to keep clear of the machine while he worked, but I was curious to a fault. Unbeknownst to Papa, I kept tiptoeing closer to see the machine’s workings. When Papa signaled for the loom to be turned on to test his repairs, I was ... too close. I turned to flee just as the loom roared to life and malfunctioned.” Her jaw quivered in his palm. “A steel-tipped shuttle broke away and struck me in the back.”
Horror punched the air from Charles’ chest. Such an injury might have killed her!
“The wounds I sustained caused permanent damage. The doctors said I’ll likely suffer chronic pain and require care the rest of my life.” Rolling her eyes heavenward, Lady Margaret shook her head. “I should’ve been more prudent today. I’m already a burden. I can’t afford to risk further injury when my parents have given up so much on my account.”
Burden.The word had the taste of a sour note, bitter and cacophonous in its wrongness. How could Reverie see herselfas nothing more than an undesirable weight? “Have your parents ever called you a burden?”
“They don’t have to.” A tear escaped Lady Margaret’s dark lashes. “The apparent strain my care places on them is sufficient evidence.”
Charles caught the tear with his thumb, wiping it away, wishing he could remove the anguish of her guilt with such ease. “Strain is evidence of effort exerted, not an indicator of how one feels about the exertion. There were days practicing the piano, touring and performing, that were a great strain—but my love for the music fueled my efforts. Just as my love for Father imbues me with strength to care for him, even when I’m weary. But even on the hardest night, I’ve never thought of Father as a burden. After coming so close to losing him ... every minute we have together is a gift.” Emotion lodged in his throat, roughening his voice. “Considering how differently your accident could’ve ended, I’d wager your parents feel the same about you. Ask them. You’ve much to endure in life already without the added weight of guilt.”
Something sparked in the depths of Lady Margaret’s peridot eyes. Gaze darting to his hand upon her face, she gasped. “Release me immediately.”
Charles recoiled, flexing then fisting his wayward hand. “Forgive my forwardness—”
“Hush! Reception’s clear now.” Tilting her head, Lady Margaret pointed at her ear and whispered, “Listen at my earring. Quickly.”
Flabbergasted, Charles did as he was bidden. He shifted positions on the floor so he and Lady Margaret were facing the same direction and then leaned in close ... closer, placing his ear next to hers, adorned with a dangling earring he’d not noticed earlier. Awareness of their proximity transformed his high collar into a sauna. What was he meant to be doingagain? Listening? The only thing he could hear at the moment was his pulse pounding in fortissimo.
“I may be old, but I’m not a fool.”
Charles’ jaw dropped. That was Tinkerton’s voice. Resonating, ever so softly, through Lady Margaret’s earring. “How—”
Soft fingers settled over his lips. “Receiver on his desk. Hush!”
“I swear on my favorite mustache wax, I didn’t tell them anything.” Tinkerton’s voice again, hushed but agitated. “Our plans will come to naught if we don’t trust each other.”
“Aye, I know.” That was Hiram Flaversham, the factory’s toymaking specialist. “That reporter and her questions have me on edge is all.”
“I didn’t get the feeling she’s on to us.”
“Even if she’s not, we can’t risk the press catching wind of our plans. Not yet. I’ve called a meeting with the rest of the lads. Ten o’clock, tomorrow night, my place.”
The fingers fell away from his mouth. Following their retreat, Charles turned his head and nearly brushed noses with Lady Margaret, who now faced him, a mere breath away. Her cheeks as rosy as her lips.
“Mr. Noble, would you mind accompanying me tomorrow night for a bit of reconnaissance?”
Chapter
25
“Benjamin, would you mind taking the night shift with Father tomorrow?” Charles dried the next plate atop the growing stack of clean dishes.
Trussed in one of Mother’s frilly aprons, Benjamin scrubbed at a pot in the kitchen sink, suds up to the cuffs rolled at his elbows. His brother smirked. “Why, have you a romantic rendezvous planned with your Miss Knight?”
“She’s notmyMiss Knight.”
“Not according to my sources. I have it on good authority that ever since Miss Knight started covering the gala preparations, you’ve taken to returning home quote ‘smiling from ear to ear and flushed from collar to crown.’”
Heat singed Charles’ face as though he’d stepped too near the glowing woodstove warming the room. Apparently Mother had been telling stories behind his back. Time for a change of subject. He slipped the dry dish into the cabinet and took up the next plate on the glistening stack. With a nod, he gestured to the open law books scattered across thedining table. “If you set all that legal jargon to music, it might be easier to remember.”
Having scoured and rinsed the pot, Benjamin placed it on the counter and snatched up another towel from a wall peg. “Judge, let it be noted for the record that the witness has attempted to redirect the line of questioning.” Twirling the towel, he whipped the cloth in the direction of Charles’ backside.
Barely dodging the crack of the towel, Charles retaliated with a scowl. “Nosy nuisance.”
“Smitten simpleton.” Benjamin’s smirk broadened as he took up a plate of his own to dry.
Charles heaved a sigh, begging his cheeks to stop smoldering. “Will you watch Father or not, you pest? I need to do some additional work for Mr. Harrison.” Such as find sufficient evidence to remove the man from a certain lady inspector’s suspect list. If that task just so happened to require his spending a moonlit evening in said lady’s company, well ... that information was strictly confidential.Thank you, D.O.G.S. protocol.
