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Thankfully, it didn’t take them long to arrive at the Robert Stephenson and Company offices on Forth Street. The marquess tied his mount out front after he’d assisted Isadora down. She couldn’t help but think of the irony as her feet touched the ground, because where business was concerned, a firm, solid surface was where she found her confidence.
The moment they entered the building, Isadora was besieged by the scent of coal dust and the heavy clanging of steel. The air was thick with hot steam, but not so much that she couldn’t see the men toiling away as they manipulated metal with fire and various tools which would eventually become the Stephenson locomotives.
“Lady Isadora. Lord Osgood.” George Stephenson walked toward them from the opposite direction. He glanced towardwhere the work was being done and smiled broadly. “It’s fantastic, isn’t it? Richard Trevithick might have been the first Englishman to invent the steam locomotive using the boiler engine designed by James Watt, but I shall be the first to succeed when it comes to long distance journeys while he is out seeking adventure all over the globe.”
“I admit that it’s quite remarkable,” Isadora concurred, as she continued to observe the progress. She grinned to herself because that was exactly the direction that England was headed. “It will change the world.”
“Indeed. That is my ultimate goal,” Mr. Stephenson concurred. “Shall we retire to my office where it is less dusty? I should hate to ruin your gown, my lady.”
“It is kind of you to think of me, but I dressed appropriately in durable material for moving about and inspecting the interior of the factories.”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” Stephenson returned. “You seem like a very resourceful woman.”
She smiled. “I shall take that as a compliment.”
He led them to a modest office with two chairs in front of a desk with papers strewn about the top. There was also a bookcase filled with various engineering works. “This is Robert’s office, but while he is gone, I have made good use of it.”
Isadora noted that there was a drawing on the wall behind him. “That looks interesting.”
“Yes.” He glanced at the design with obvious pride. “That is the first locomotive that I ever designed for hauling coal at the Killingworth Colliery. I named it theBlücherafter the Prussian general who fought with Wellington at Waterloo. It could travel over six kilometers per hour. I suspect that theLocomotive No. 1shall surpass that greatly.”
After that, Isadora and Mr. Stephenson continued to converse while Lord Osgood remained as a silent observer in the room. However, she noted that he didn’t appear to be bored or annoyedat being left out of the conversation. In truth, he appeared intrigued by the exchange.
Nearly an hour later, Mr. Stephenson offered to give them a tour of the facility, so that they could better equip themselves with the progress that was being made for the railway, which Lord Osgood and Isadora’s brother-in-law, Lord Somers, had invested quite heavily in.
She asked questions along the way, while Lord Osgood seemed content to allow her to do most of the talking. But she could also tell that his keen observation didn’t miss anything.
As the morning concluded, Isadora turned to Mr. Stephenson. “Thank you for your consideration. In my experience, not everyone is eager to discuss business nor politics with a woman.”
“Ah, but you aren’t just any woman, are you, Lady Isadora?” Mr. Stephenson looked at the marquess. “Don’t let this one slip through your fingers if you ever manage to persuade her to marry.”
Isadora’s face heated slightly as the marquess drawled, “I shall certainly take that into consideration.” He offered Isadora a wink, and then offered her his arm as they headed back outside.
Once they were backin the phaeton, she said, “I think that went rather well, don’t you?”
“Indeed.” He paused as he glanced at her, because he couldn’t, in good conscience, allow them to head to their next destination just yet. “Before we venture on to the Ironworks, I should tell you that you have a… slight mark on your left cheek.”
“Oh.” She immediately reached up with the intent to wipe away the soot with her hand, but it only made matters worse.
He decided to take pity on her and withdrew a white handkerchief from inside his waistcoat. “Allow me.” He gently swept it across her lovely face. Once the smudge was gone, he found thathe couldn’t look away. Perhaps it was because, this close, he was drawn into those deep, gray eyes, which appeared like molten silver in the light of day. Or maybe it was simply because he had been infatuated with her from the first instant that they had met.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he whispered huskily.
She swallowed, and her lashes fluttered uncertainly. “We should go…”
It was a warning, but it lacked the conviction that she normally used. Could it be that she was starting to soften, to be drawn into this same, flaming vortex of desire?
It wouldn’t take much at all for him to lean just a little bit closer and place his mouth gently on hers…
In the end, he reluctantly pulled away and focused his attention ahead of them. Not because he didn’t want to act on the urge to kiss her, but because he knew it would only make her more wary around him.
He flicked the reins, and set the carriage into motion.
They both remained silent until they came to a stop and he set the brake and jumped to the ground. It wasn’t until he reached up to help her down that her boot lost traction on the step and she came tumbling forward—right into his arms.
She gasped, and her eyes went wide as he cradled her against his chest. He swallowed tightly, because the feel of her soft, womanly curves pressed against him was pure torture. He gently set her on her feet, and for a moment, she wavered uncertainly. He kept an arm on her until it appeared she would be able to stand without falling over.
She smoothed a hand down her skirts and patted at her hair, which was still perfectly pinned in place. It was as if she wanted to ensure that nothing on her was ever ruffled. “Thank you, my lord. I don’t know why I’ve become so clumsy.”
