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“Your Grace.” A good-looking, dark-haired man shrugged into a coat as he approached. He ran a hand through hair damp with sweat. “I didn’t know you were bringing a visitor today. I apologize for my appearance, my lady.”
“Miss Perkins, this is Mr. Grafton, my chief engineer,” said the duke in a clipped voice.
“Delighted, Miss Perkins.” Mr. Grafton bowed.
“Miss Perkins is my governess,” the duke said.
“Aren’t you a bit old to have a governess, Your Grace?” asked Mr. Grafton with an admirably bland expression.
Mari grinned at the engineer. She liked him already.
“Mychildren’sgoverness,” amended the duke.
She could practically see the steam rising from his ears. Most gratifying.
“Shall I give you the tour, Miss Perkins?” Mr. Grafton held out his arm.
Mari accepted it. “A tour would be delightful, Mr. Grafton. What is your role as chief engineer?”
“I create the initial designs, with the help of the duke, who has been one of the innovators in the area of high-pressure steam engines.”
He led her through the open, well-ventilated area. “Here is where the iron is melted and cast, Miss Perkins. We won’t walk too close to the cupola furnace, it generates the enormous heat we need.”
The men feeding the furnace wore leather aprons and gloves to protect them from the immense heat shimmering from the tall, vertical furnace.
“And here is the assembly room.” They moved into another large room, this one with long workbenches and clamps holding the cast metal parts.
“It’s a very formidable operation, Mr. Grafton.”
“Extremely.”
“I’m quite relieved, you know,” she said, loud enough for the duke to hear. He was following them and looking quite put out.
“And why is that, Miss Perkins?”
“I had thought the duke meant to get rid of me today.”
“Indeed?” Mr. Grafton sent a confused glance in the duke’s direction.
“Oh yes, but now I know he won’t.”
“And why is that?” asked Mr. Grafton, playing into her hands perfectly.
“Because he’s obviously trying to impress me, instead.”
“Trying to impress—” Edgar fumed, following after Miss Perkins and Grafton, like a carriage’s bloody fifth wheel.
Dukes were never fifth wheels.
“You see, Mr. Grafton,” Miss Perkins gave his engineer a teasing smile. “I laughed at His Grace’s miniature engine the other day, and now he needs to impress upon me the grandeur of his foundry.”
“Compensating for something, is he?”
“I’ve no idea,” she laughed.
Edgar saw red. Grafton was going to pay for that one later. He stalked into place beside them. “Don’t encourage her.”
She sallied forth, hand resting lightly on Grafton’s arm.
