Full Steam Ahead (22 page)

S
o it’s true, then.”

Startled, Nicole glanced up from where she knelt at the foot of the bed clutching a folded petticoat and spied Mrs. Wellborn standing in the doorway. Twisting her face away from the housekeeper’s view, she quickly brushed away the still-moist tear tracks from her cheeks and gave a little sniff to clear her nose before speaking.

“Mrs. Wellborn. I-I didn’t hear you knock.” How long had the woman been standing there? And how long had Nicole been holding her petticoat while staring blankly into her trunk?

Nicole tossed the undergarment into the open trunk and snatched up the rolls of stockings piled on the floor near her hip. “Did you need something?”

Mrs. Wellborn strolled into the room, seated herself on the end of Nicole’s bed, and flipped the trunk lid closed. “What I need is for you to come to your senses, dearie. You can’t just leave us. You’re part of the family.”

“I can’t stay.” She grabbed the latch and started to reopen
the trunk, but Mrs. Wellborn slid right off the mattress and landed her plump derrière squarely atop the lid. The woman had the balance and aim of an acrobat.

“Why not?” The housekeeper clasped her hands to her knees and stared Nicole straight in the eye. “Has the master done something to scare you off? I thought you’d learned to see past his brusque ways. He might be a bit rough around the edges, but his heart is as golden as they come. You know it’s true.”

Nicole scrambled to her feet and pivoted away from Mrs. Wellborn’s scrutiny. Must
everyone
stick their nose into her business? She made a grand show of opening and closing bureau drawers as if double-checking to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind, but she knew the drawers were empty, and somehow staring into their vacant depths only made her heart ache worse.

“Mr. Thornton has done nothing wrong. It’s just time for me to leave. That’s all. It can’t be helped.” She quietly clicked the last hollow drawer closed. “I enjoyed my time here very much,” she said, finally turning to face the housekeeper, “and I will miss you all dreadfully.” A tiny sob caught in her throat, and in an instant, Mrs. Wellborn was on her feet, tugging Nicole into a warm embrace.

“Forgive an old woman her nattering.” The housekeeper’s voice trembled with tears of her own as she squeezed Nicole tight. “Here I was thinking only of my own grief without giving a care for yours.” She stepped back and stroked the curls framing Nicole’s face, just like Nicole’s own mother did whenever her daughter needed soothing. “Deep down, I knew you didn’t want to leave us, but when Arthur told me the news, all I could think about was finding a way to make you change your mind.”

“You have no idea how badly I want to change my mind.” The words burst through the widening fissure of her heart, no longer able to be contained. “I want to stay more than you can imagine. And that wanting is tearing me apart.” Nicole lifted her chin and forced a deep breath into her lungs. “Unfortunately, I have obligations—responsibilities that can’t be ignored. My family is depending on me. I can’t let them down.”

“Of course not,” Mrs. Wellborn clucked as she rubbed Nicole’s arms. “If you’ve given your word, there’s no question but that you must keep it.”

The defensive starch Nicole had been using to keep herself upright crumbled, and she collapsed back into the housekeeper’s arms. “Thank you for understanding,” she said, hugging the woman close for a moment before stepping back. “I wish the men could be as accepting. It would make everything so much easier.”

Mrs. Wellborn pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and dabbed at her own eyes. “It’s not in their nature. They don’t see this situation as a certainty that must be accepted. No, in their minds, it is a challenge thrown down like a gauntlet. Accepting equals defeat, so they won’t hear of it. Instead, they’ll do everything in their power to find a solution. Men are fixers, dear. Just one more thing we women have to . . . accept.” The housekeeper winked, and Nicole felt her mouth twitch into something that felt amazingly like a smile.

“I suppose it’s not fair of me to admire that quality in Mr. Thornton when he’s busy solving boiler safety issues only to berate him for it when he employs the same strategies on me.”

Mrs. Wellborn smiled and patted Nicole’s shoulder. “Love would be boring if it were simple, dearie.”

“Oh, but I—”

The housekeeper took hold of her arm before she could find the right words to protest. “What you need after all that packing is a nice hot meal to fill those empty spaces inside you.” Mrs. Wellborn tugged her gently toward the door. “Everything looks so much brighter with a full belly. I have a place already set for you in the dining room.”

“No, I—!” Nicole jerked to a halt. “I mean, no, thank you. It’s sweet of you to go to all that trouble, but I’d rather spend my last night at Oakhaven with you and Jacob in the kitchen.”

The only reason Mrs. Wellborn would try to direct her to the dining room was if Darius was there. Waiting for her.

“Arthur took Jacob down to the pond to sail the raft the two of them made this afternoon. You should have seen them huddled over the table, tying all those sticks and twigs together with bits of twine.” The housekeeper chattered gaily, as if nothing were amiss, all while gently maneuvering Nicole down the hall. “You would have thought Arthur was as much a boy as young Jacob. They gobbled their supper and disappeared out the back door faster than a pair of lightning bugs.”

She shook her head, laughter bubbling forth as she nudged an elbow into Nicole’s ribs. “I haven’t seen Arthur move that fast in ages. I think I’ll just grab a couple biscuits and meet them down by the water. See what kind of fun they get up to.”

Unable to escape the frothy yet forceful current that was Mrs. Wellborn without being rude, Nicole floated helplessly along beside the housekeeper, the dining room door drawing ever nearer. Her stomach clenched with an odd mixture of dread and anticipation. No matter how painful it would be to spend time alone with Darius, she couldn’t deny that deep down she wanted to do exactly that.

One last meal together. What harm could it do?

Mrs. Wellborn drew to a halt, clasped Nicole’s hand, and patted the back of it with motherly affection.

“Let him say his piece, dearie. That’s all he asks. Then, if you still want to leave, my Arthur will drive you to town in the morning. The master has already given instructions regarding your wages, so you need not worry on that score. You won’t be leaving us penniless. Of course, we hope you won’t be leaving us at all, but be assured that we’ll support your decision, whatever it may be.”

“Thank you.” Nicole blinked back the moisture gathering in her eyes. This wasn’t the time for tears. She’d handle this final meeting with dignity and decorum, just as her mother had taught her. No hysterics. No angry demands. Just patience and kindness. She’d been absorbed in her own disappointment long enough. Time to focus on someone else for a change.

Darius
. This entire situation was even more unfair to him than to her. At least she’d known about her promise to her father from the beginning. Darius hadn’t. He’d simply given a needy woman employment, involved her in his mission, and given her the respect she’d always craved. Whatever he planned to say, she would listen. She owed him that much. No matter how much it hurt, she’d listen to his arguments, his strategies, his pleas.

And if he didn’t
plead?
Nicole swallowed hard, the possibility scalding her as it went down. Well, if he didn’t plead, she’d listen to that, too. She’d accept his good-bye with graciousness and be thankful for his good sense. It would be cruel for her to expect him to grow old pining for her, unable to move on even after she married another. Much better for him to put her behind him like one of his unsuccessful boiler experiments and move forward. Just because her own heart
would always belong to him didn’t mean she wanted him to suffer the same misery.

Only . . . a small, wretched part of her wished exactly that, God forgive her.

After giving Nicole’s hand a final pat, Mrs. Wellborn released her grip and smiled that cheery smile of hers that never failed to brighten Nicole’s spirits. “Food’s on the sideboard. Venison stew. One of Mrs. Graham’s specialties.” She winked. “Go on, now. Don’t keep the master waiting.”

Nicole’s lips curved. Trust Mrs. Wellborn to sum it all up in such beautiful simplicity. This was dinner, not the guillotine. With a nod of her head, Nicole took hold of the door handle and let herself into the room.

Movement drew her gaze at once to where Darius paced along the wall to her right. At her entrance, however, he spun to face her.

“Nicole.” Her name floated from his tongue like a leaf drifting to earth from an autumn tree. He crossed to her in four strides and took up her hand. “Thank you for coming.”

His fingers trembled slightly, as if he were nervous. Darius—the no-nonsense man who faced down exploding boilers without batting an eye—was nervous. For some odd reason the notion served to calm her own rioting emotions.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I heard venison stew was one of Mrs. Graham’s specialties. I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to taste it.”

“Then taste it you shall.” Darius grinned as he placed her hand onto his arm and led her to the sideboard.

Nicole breathed in the scent of his shaving soap as he uncovered the tureen and ladled a serving of stew into a fine china bowl. He’d shaved. For her. Blinking, she took in the rest of his attire. Pressed trousers, suit coat. He even wore
a starched cravat at his throat. He hated cravats. But he’d worn one. For her.

And what was she wearing? The same rumpled gown she’d worn among the machinery in the workshop and crawled about her room in while packing. She hadn’t even taken the time to check her hair or wash her face.
Good
heavens.
Were her eyes still red and puffy from her crying?

Darius placed her food on the table by one of the filled water goblets, then held out her chair.

Nicole thanked him with a nod of her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t dress for dinner,” she said as she slid into her seat. “I was busy pa—” She broke off, not wanting to mar the peace with talk of leaving. “Time got away from me,” she said instead.

Darius’s thumb drew a line between her shoulder blades as he stepped from behind her chair, sending tiny shivers down her back. “You look lovely.”

Bless the man. The warmth in his blue eyes actually had her believing him. Then he smiled—a private, intimate sort of smile that set her heart to pounding against her ribs.

She glanced away and seized her napkin, taking refuge in the ordinariness of shaking out the linen square and placing it in her lap.

Really. Where did an obsessive scientist learn to smile like that? It was grossly unfair. Had he been a practiced rake, she’d know how to rebuff him. But how did one defend against a man who actually meant all that was implied in such a look? Tenderness. Affection. Love?

Thankfully, Darius moved back to the sideboard to dish up his own meal, affording Nicole a moment to recover.

When he returned, he claimed his seat at the head of the table, directly to her left. He bowed his head and offered a
brief prayer of thanks, then picked up his spoon and began eating. Nicole followed his example, cultivating the careful truce between them. She commented on the rich flavor of the stew. Darius told her about an article he’d read on the possible benefits of employing larger or more numerous safety valves on boilers.

The familiar pattern set her at ease to the point that she found herself suggesting ideas for experimentation, which soon had Darius shoving aside empty dishes in order to work out scenarios upon the table linen using knives and forks and a leftover biscuit or two as off-scale representations. Nicole watched him work, amazed as always at the quickness of his mind and his ability to work through several possibilities at once.

She reached into her hair and tugged a pin free from behind her ear. “What if we added a second valve”—she laid the pin across the tines of one of the forks—“here?”

Darius looked over at her, the gleam of appreciation in his eyes making her a tad light-headed.

Before she could retreat, Darius captured the hand she’d used to place the hairpin and brought it to his lips. With his other arm, he latched on to the seat of her chair and dragged her to his side.

“You know, it used to take me days to make the kind of progress on my own that the two of us just completed in an hour.”

His husky voice made her quiver as his soft breath fanned over her cheek. His face was so close to hers, she could nearly feel his lips move against her skin as he spoke. “You make me better, Nicole. Not just a better scientist, but a better man. You challenge me, encourage me, and help me dream of the future instead of the past.”

His lips did brush against her temple then, and Nicole’s breath caught. Her eyes slid closed. She didn’t want to think about the future
or
the past. All she wanted was now.

“Do you remember what you told me this afternoon?” Darius’s deep tones rolled through her like a sip of hot tea on a cold day, warmth permeating her insides in a long, slow wave.

Remember? No, she didn’t remember. She could barely think at all.

“You told me never to forfeit my passion.”

Yes, his passion. His boilers. He could achieve so much good with his work. Save so many lives. She was proud to have played even a small role in that work. She thought to tell him so, but as her eyelids lifted, his gaze locked on to hers with such force everything else evaporated from her mind.

“I make you a solemn oath here and now never to forfeit my passion.” He cupped her face with both hands. Nicole scanned his features, trying desperately to puzzle out what he was saying, even while her heart thundered the answer. “
You
are my passion, Nicole. And I refuse to forfeit you.”

His mouth claimed hers, sealing his pledge. Nicole whimpered slightly but thrust her fingers into his hair and held on for all she was worth. His kiss was hard, possessive, and carried the taste of desperation. A taste she recognized well. She answered in kind, giving him her love, her wishes, her dreams. For this moment there was no future, no past, only now. Beautiful, glorious
now
.