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Authors: Shelley Adina
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married to Andrew in her laboratory coat, and how disappointed Mama would be then!
When she extricated herself from his embrace, she tucked up the strands of her hair that had caught on one of his buttons and become disarrayed. “Andrew, tell me true, as the little ones back at Carrick House might say. Do you think I ought to go to the count?”
“Let me ask you a question in return.” He straightened his waistcoat. “If you do not, do you have the endurance to last in the Flight Development Department for as long as you must?”
If he had not told her his own feelings, she might have felt obliged to say yes. But here was another path, forming a third possibility next to the one labeled
Return to London a Failure
. But balanced against it were her obligations to the count: four years of university in exchange for her acceptance of the post. Room and board in the palace while the girls finished school.
“I cannot simply walk away from my obligations,” she said at last.
“Then there is your answer,” Andrew told her gently. “But I should not abandon a conversation with him altogether. He will still be interested in your feelings and, were I in his place, I should be deeply interested in a department that puts status before innovation.”
Andrew was right. She should speak to the count not for her sake, but for his. On Sunday after church, when she saw through her French doors that the count was inspecting the last of his roses in his sunny private garden, she slipped out and along the flagged path to join him.
“Claire!” His voice was warm as he indicated a yellow rose. “Look at this. She has been hiding in the foliage all summer, and now that the other roses have faded, at last she gets her chance to bloom.”
Might that not be a fitting epigraph for her own situation? Perhaps she could use it as a way to ease into the conversation she wished to have with him.
“What a pity that with the end of the season, her time in the sun will be so short,” he concluded.
Oh, dear. Perhaps not.
“I have not seen you all week.” He straightened and offered her his arm. “How is Captain Hollys? My personal physician tells me his health is not all it could be, and recommends that he be removed to England with all possible speed.”
Claire nodded, pacing beside him on the walk toward the gazing ball. “He informed us of that last night, as well. Alice is the only one free to take him home, but she is reluctant to leave the safety of friends, to say nothing of your sentries … despite the excitement lately.”
“I have confirmed that the medallions belong to the Famiglia Rosa,” he told her, his voice dropping although they were alone. “Those emblems stand for Venice, Naples, and Rome—the three cities ruled by the brothers di Alba. Frankly, I should feel more comfortable if she did go. It was clear that their target was
Swan
—and that the price on her head has not been removed.”
Claire could not bear it. To lose both her friends at once?
But of course she must not be selfish. Ian would do better in his own house, with his own physician, and Alice would be far safer in England than she appeared to be here.
“You are quite right,” she said. “Now that the repairs to the fuselage are finished, I will speak with her and find out when she can pull up ropes. We cannot risk any further danger to either of them.”
“And what of you? You will be sad to lose your friends, but as you say, it will be for the best. And you have much to occupy your mind here.”
Claire took a breath and leaped into the metaphorical breach. “Yes, I have been very busy with documenting improvements to the processes and equipment in the Flight Development Department.”
“Have you?” His brows rose—and since he had been looking into the gazing ball, his reflection seemed all circles and curves. He straightened to face her. “Are improvements necessary?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, rather more bluntly than perhaps
When she extricated herself from his embrace, she tucked up the strands of her hair that had caught on one of his buttons and become disarrayed. “Andrew, tell me true, as the little ones back at Carrick House might say. Do you think I ought to go to the count?”
“Let me ask you a question in return.” He straightened his waistcoat. “If you do not, do you have the endurance to last in the Flight Development Department for as long as you must?”
If he had not told her his own feelings, she might have felt obliged to say yes. But here was another path, forming a third possibility next to the one labeled
Return to London a Failure
. But balanced against it were her obligations to the count: four years of university in exchange for her acceptance of the post. Room and board in the palace while the girls finished school.
“I cannot simply walk away from my obligations,” she said at last.
“Then there is your answer,” Andrew told her gently. “But I should not abandon a conversation with him altogether. He will still be interested in your feelings and, were I in his place, I should be deeply interested in a department that puts status before innovation.”
Andrew was right. She should speak to the count not for her sake, but for his. On Sunday after church, when she saw through her French doors that the count was inspecting the last of his roses in his sunny private garden, she slipped out and along the flagged path to join him.
“Claire!” His voice was warm as he indicated a yellow rose. “Look at this. She has been hiding in the foliage all summer, and now that the other roses have faded, at last she gets her chance to bloom.”
Might that not be a fitting epigraph for her own situation? Perhaps she could use it as a way to ease into the conversation she wished to have with him.
“What a pity that with the end of the season, her time in the sun will be so short,” he concluded.
Oh, dear. Perhaps not.
“I have not seen you all week.” He straightened and offered her his arm. “How is Captain Hollys? My personal physician tells me his health is not all it could be, and recommends that he be removed to England with all possible speed.”
Claire nodded, pacing beside him on the walk toward the gazing ball. “He informed us of that last night, as well. Alice is the only one free to take him home, but she is reluctant to leave the safety of friends, to say nothing of your sentries … despite the excitement lately.”
“I have confirmed that the medallions belong to the Famiglia Rosa,” he told her, his voice dropping although they were alone. “Those emblems stand for Venice, Naples, and Rome—the three cities ruled by the brothers di Alba. Frankly, I should feel more comfortable if she did go. It was clear that their target was
Swan
—and that the price on her head has not been removed.”
Claire could not bear it. To lose both her friends at once?
But of course she must not be selfish. Ian would do better in his own house, with his own physician, and Alice would be far safer in England than she appeared to be here.
“You are quite right,” she said. “Now that the repairs to the fuselage are finished, I will speak with her and find out when she can pull up ropes. We cannot risk any further danger to either of them.”
“And what of you? You will be sad to lose your friends, but as you say, it will be for the best. And you have much to occupy your mind here.”
Claire took a breath and leaped into the metaphorical breach. “Yes, I have been very busy with documenting improvements to the processes and equipment in the Flight Development Department.”
“Have you?” His brows rose—and since he had been looking into the gazing ball, his reflection seemed all circles and curves. He straightened to face her. “Are improvements necessary?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, rather more bluntly than perhaps
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