“I’m afraid Mr. Morel is gone for the weekend. Would you mind coming back on Monday?” Uncle Leo would probably chide her for being rude, but she had learned to trust the small, quiet voice in her head that so very rarely spoke. The one that was whispering now:Caution.
“I’m not here to see Mr. Morel,” the man said. Then, to Aurelie’s surprise, he leaned closer, his face eye-level with hers. “It’s regarding an...” The word was hardly more than a breath, but it felt like a roar when it hit her. “Invention.”
Aurelie gasped, her hand flying to her open mouth.
“Everything all right, Miss Blake?” the guard called from behind her.
She turned to wave at him in reassurance, but her heart was thundering in her chest. Mr. Everard hadn’t moved, but when she turned back toward him, he seemed to loom even closer. “I’m sorry, sir.” She stepped back until she could feel the cold metal of the gate against her spine. “You must have the wrong person. I don’t—”
“Don’t worry, Miss Blake. You aren’t in any sort of trouble. On the contrary. I’m hoping you can help me. That we can help each other.” His eyes, so icy only a moment before, warmed with a smile.
The bells began to toll seven o’clock. The servants would wonder where she was. She should tell this man to go and pray that her rudeness didn’t get back to Mr. Morel. But something stopped her.
No one had spoken the wordinventionout loud to her unless it was a warning or a curse. And this man hadn’t said it that way. There had been no caution, no vitriol: only an undercurrent of wonder.
Two voices were warring in her head now, each urging the opposite of the other.Stop. Go. Progress. Stagnation.
Caution. Invention.
It was no surprise which won out.
“I need to get in for dinner,” she said, glancing behind her at the guard. “Perhaps you’d like to join me?” It was a risk inviting this man in, but she wouldn’t be alone with him. Her uncle’s servants all knew her well and would make sure she was safe. She’d ask the guard to escort them to the cottage. Besides, he was a friend of Mr. Morel. Kiara’s family wouldn’t have anything to do with someone nefarious.
“Oh, I couldn’t impose,” Mr. Everard said, placing his hand on his chest. “Another time, perhaps.”
“It’s no imposition, really. My uncle’s cook always makes too much food. I’m sure there will be enough. Please. I’d like to hear more about your... proposition.” She turned to the guard before Mr. Everard could refuse. “Would you mind escorting us to my uncle’s house?” she asked him. “Mr. Everard will be joining me for dinner.”
Aurelie sat in her usual place with her back to the window, her gaze focused on the far end of the table. It was the first time she’d ever dined with anyone without her uncle present, and she had a bizarre, unsettled feeling that this was what dinner with her future husband would feel like. Two strangers with eight feet of space between them, forced to make conversation out of thin air.
In the light of the chandelier, Mr. Everard was more of everything he’d appeared to be outside. Tall, with smooth white skin, thick hair the color of copper, and those piercing blue eyes. She doubted he wasmuch above thirty, yet she felt like a child sitting across from him, and not only because she was petite. She had the distinct impression this was a man who had seen things. Who traveled, yes, but who also had experienced so much more of life than she had. He hadn’t even spoken since they sat down, but he radiated confidence and purpose. Aurelie wished she could be a little more like that.
The young male servant flashed an uneasy smile as he placed Aurelie’s soup before her. She offered a reassuring nod in return.
“So, Mr. Everard,” she said when they were alone. “Please, tell me more about why you’re here.”
He left his soup untouched and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “As I said, I know the Morel family.”
Aurelie sat up straighter. “How are you connected?”
“A distant cousin,” he said, which was vague enough to be disconcerting. She’d hoped for a more solid connection. “Mr. Morel speaks so highly of you. He said you’re an excellent bricoleur, with unique ideas for solving complex issues.”
Aurelie felt a wash of pleasure mingled with surprise. Mr. Morel was a kind supervisor, but he’d never complimented her about her work.
“The truth is, Miss Blake, I’m in need of someone like you. A forward thinker. A person not constrained by societal expectations.”
The hairs on the back of Aurelie’s neck prickled again. Had Kiara told Mr. Morel about her laboratory? Was this man here to blackmail her, or possibly even arrest her?
Everard glanced around the room, as if confirming they were truly alone, and leaned forward, his voice dropping. “I need you to create something for me.”
Create.Such a simple word. And yet to bring something into existence out of nothing was a power so vast it was almost godlike. She’d had only a mere taste of that power with her inventions. At one time, she had hoped it would satisfy her. But each invention only left her wanting more.
“Yes?” she breathed.
He rose and approached the chair next to her. “May I?”
A shiver of doubt crawled up her spine, but she nodded, her pulse quickening at the thought that one of the servants could enter at any minute.
“I should warn you, Miss Blake. There will be considerable danger involved in what I’m proposing,” he said as he sat down beside her.