Heiress in Red Silk (Duke's Heiress #2) - Madeline Hunter Page 0,91

implications. He imagined her naked on this table, amid her new china, and taking her in multiple ways, half of which would undoubtedly shock her.

“You mentioned next steps,” she said. “Twice I have asked what you meant, only to have you ignore my questions. Don’t you plan on telling me what they are?”

Had she asked about that during dinner? He vaguely recalled a light string of small talk that he barely heard.

She delicately spooned some custard into her pursed mouth. He watched the spoon penetrate her lips, and her mouth slide down its small bowl, then back up. Her tongue flicked at a bit that had remained on the spoon.

“I assume you are now plotting how to finally make the invention pay,” she prodded. “Steps toward manufacturing are probably in order now.”

Damnation. She was going to insist on this conversation. He forced his gaze from her so he might get hold of his thoughts.

“The ideal way to do it is to build a factory,” he said.

“That would take a huge amount of money, wouldn’t it?”

“The second-best way is to sign a contract with another factory to do it for us. Also a goodly amount of money and the design would be in another’s hands.”

“You still worry about it being stolen. Once it is made, that will be a danger anyway, won’t it?”

“It isn’t easy to understand how it works unless you are making it yourself. Once it is in use, it won’t even be visible on an engine.”

She finished her custard. He was sorry to see the servant remove the dish. She lowered her lids and turned thoughtful. “Perhaps we should not make it at all. Maybe we should allow those who build steam engines to make it, along with their engines.”

“We could not control the quality then.”

“If someone is building a machine, he would want it to work. Why improve it with this invention, only to make a mess of the whole thing?”

“This is a precision instrument. It must be exact.”

“I’m sure there are many factories that can make it exact enough. Such a business made the sample you showed me, after all. Is that foundry near London? Maybe we should strike a bargain with them.”

“You would be amazed at how careless many factories are. Foundries in particular. Unless they work iron for decorative use, they have standards that can never be considered precise.”

“And yet you found one that was different. Probably several, knowing you. If we go back to that little list, it will save—” She had been looking at him, and suddenly, she stopped talking, leaned forward, and peered intently. Her gaze bored right through him.

An expression of disbelief flexed across her face. “You did use a foundry to make that sample, didn’t you?”

He would crawl through broken glass to kiss her, but she could be a true nuisance sometimes. Such as right now. He wished his uncle had left that half of the business to a stupid woman, if he was going to saddle him with a partner at all.

“Didn’t you?”

The answer was already in her head and reflected in her eyes.

“I made it myself.”

“You worked the iron yourself? How?”

“It wasn’t hard. I watched it being done for several weeks, then gave it a go. After a while, I learned well enough.”

“Better than well enough, knowing you. Especially because you insist it has to be made with precision. You probably did nothing else for six months. Where?”

“I have a small building across the river where I do—did it.”

“I should have known as soon as I saw the sample that you had not trusted another person to make it. Do you intend to make all of them?”

“If we have any success to speak of, that will not be practical.”

She smiled at that. Then her smile got broader, and she began to laugh. She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and tried to stop, but she couldn’t.

“Forgive me. I am not laughing at you.” She got the words out before another outburst interrupted. “I am picturing the look on your aunt Agnes’s face if she ever saw you at your forge. I see her walking in and you are there, stripped to the waist in front of a hot fire, casting iron.”

“I think she would drop dead on the spot.”

She drew herself up straight and angled out her chest. She lowered her chin and pursed her lips. “‘This is beyond the pale, Kevin,’” she trilled, imitating Aunt Agnes. “‘Bad enough for you to be in trade, but to