A Dream of Desire (17 page)

“I don’t think so.” James frowned, a vague look of worry crossing his features. “My housemaid assures me she can make all the preparations.”

“Polly?” Talia tried to think of a way to phrase her concerns delicately. “Er, James, she’s not organized a dinner party before, has she?”

“No.”

Talia chewed on her bottom lip as they settled into the cab. Considering how trying James had been since his return, she didn’t necessarily want to
help
him at the moment. But she also didn’t want to see his first foray as a host end up a complete disaster. She couldn’t bear to think of people laughing at him.

“Perhaps you’ll allow me to consult with Polly?” Talia asked carefully. “I arranged a party for fifteen people just before my father left London, so I’m quite capable of ensuring all goes smoothly. If you’ll allow me to help,” she added.

Rather than be appreciative or even relieved at the offer, James only frowned more deeply. “You’re invited as a guest, Talia.”

“I shall be a guest. I’m merely offering my assistance for the preparations. To plan the menu, arrange the seating, order the flowers. That sort of thing. Unless you’d rather leave it all to Polly. Or do it yourself.”

“All right,” James muttered. “I’ll tell her you’ll arrange it, then. Thank you,” he added grudgingly.

Talia gave him an amused look. “You’re quite welcome.”

He looked so…frustrated. He’d been that way ever since he returned. So unlike the warm, cheerful James he’d always been.

Talia’s heart tightened. He’d changed because her declaration of love had put a wall between them that had never been there before. If she hadn’t confessed her love, perhaps everything
would
be the same as it once was.

“Ask the driver to take us to Old Bond Street,” she said.

“What is in Old Bond Street?”

“Something you’ll enjoy,” Talia promised.

James called up the order to the driver; then the cab lurched into motion. A half hour later, they came to a stop.

“It’s just a short walk,” Talia said as James descended before her, then extended a hand to help her down.

As she always did, Talia relished the moment his fingers closed tightly around hers, the warmth of his grip evident even through the layers of both their gloves. And, also as she always did, Talia loosened her grip first, the moment the ground steadied beneath her feet. She didn’t want to give James reason to believe she might want to cling to him. And she certainly didn’t want to feel as if she’d never want to release him.

She preceded him along the street, leading the way to a narrow town house whose front garden was enclosed by a wrought-iron fence. A hanging sign proclaimed the establishment to be the residence of
Blake’s Museum of Automata
.

“Wait here.” Remembering the stall on the opposite side of the street, Talia gestured for James to stay where he was as she hurried across to the vendor. She dug into her pocket for a few pennies and purchased a small bag of sweets before returning to James.

“Almond toffee,” she said, extending the bag. “I gather you’ve still got a taste for toffee?”

“Indeed.” He looked at her somewhat oddly, as if not quite fathoming why she would remember such a thing.

“Well, come along, then.”

Talia opened the front door of the museum and stepped into the foyer. A hint of trepidation rose in her as she caught sight of the formidable figure seated behind the front desk. The museum secretary, Mrs. Fox, stood and approached, her handsome features made stern and pallid by her high-collared black gown and severe hairstyle.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Fox,” Talia said. “Is Mr. Blake in?”

“I’ll see if he is available, my lady.” Mrs. Fox swept her gaze over James in a rapid assessment before heading into the depths of the museum.

“Bastian met his wife here?” James asked in faint wonderment as he peered into the front parlor, which was cluttered with tables and shelves displaying various mechanical toys and moving clocks. “Seems more of Darius’s sort of haunt.”

“Oh, Darius and Mr. Blake have engaged in quite a correspondence, from what my father tells me,” Talia said. “Something to do with a cipher machine and encoding alphabets. All rather beyond me, I’m afraid.”

“Lady Talia!” A blond-haired man in his mid-forties hurried into the foyer, his eyes bright with welcome behind his spectacles. “What an unexpected surprise. I was telling Mrs. Fox just yesterday that I ought to pay a call on you and your father.”

“My apologies, Mr. Blake.” Talia smiled at the sight of his wrinkled jacket, crooked tie, and grease-covered apron. “My father is still traveling, and I’ve been quite busy lately. I stopped by to introduce you to Lord Castleford, an old family friend. I’d hoped you might have a moment to provide us with a tour?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Mr. Blake wiped his hands on his apron, looking a bit disconcerted for a moment at the unexpected request.

“If you’ll both please follow me.” Mrs. Fox stepped forward and extended her hand to the drawing room door. “I’ll tell you the history of the museum, then fetch tea while Mr. Blake explains the mechanics of the automata to you.”

Mr. Blake’s face cleared with relief as he nodded. “Beg your pardon, for just a moment,” he said, hurrying back to his workshop lair.

Amused, Talia followed Mrs. Fox into the drawing room, forcing herself to listen politely as the woman droned on about Blake’s establishment of the museum. When Mrs. Fox left to see about the tea, Mr. Blake came in and showed her and James how the various machines worked—a twist of a key prompted a frog to hop onto a lily pad, a bear to spin on one foot, a pair of birds to whirl around a tree at the top of a clock.

James was fascinated by the inventions, peering closely at the painted figures and requesting permission to turn the keys himself.

“How extraordinarily clever,” he said, the sound of his deep chuckle filling the room as he watched a pair of ice-skaters glide over a glass pond. “You made all of these yourself, Mr. Blake?”

“Most of them,” the inventor replied modestly. “Some were sent by my colleagues.” He stepped forward to turn the machine around and unlock the panel at the back. “Let me show you the machinery, which gives you an explanation of how the figures operate and—”

James shook his head. “Much obliged, Mr. Blake, but I’d rather not know the details of the mechanics.”

Mr. Blake blinked, as if he couldn’t fathom such a statement. “You don’t wish to know how they work?”

“No, but thank you. They’re such charming creations, I’d rather disregard any evidence that they’re controlled by wires and gears.”

Mr. Blake looked at Talia. She gave him an apologetic smile and a shrug. “Sometimes illusions are best left intact, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” Mr. Blake looked as if he thought no such thing.

“Mr. Blake, a word, if you please?” Mrs. Fox entered with the tea tray, bustling about rearranging the automata on a table so she could set the tray down.

“Beg your pardon, again,” Blake muttered to Talia and James as he followed Mrs. Fox from the room.

Talia watched James twist the key on another machine. A tinny music wafted from the base as a mouse lifted a flute to its mouth and began piping the tune. James shook his head in wonderment, his features creasing with another smile.

“Astonishing, isn’t it?”

Talia nodded. His pleasure was like a ray of sun, lightening the darkness that had collected around her heart over the past week. Reminding her how easy it had always been just to be with him. She watched his hands as he picked up another automaton. He had strong hands, tanned and calloused from his work on so many expeditions. His fingers were long, his wrists dusted with dark hair that disappeared into the snowy white cuff of his shirt.

He motioned for her to come closer, in that
come share with me
gesture that she would recognize forever. She moved beside him, her heart vibrating like a viola string as she sensed the warmth of his body. With a dexterous flick of his fingers, he turned the key on the automaton, and they watched a hummingbird flutter over an open flower.

James looked at Talia, his eyes creasing with a smile that spread warmth through her blood.

“What was that verse we used to recite?” he asked. “The one about the hummingbird? Tea is brought from China…”

“Rice from Carolina,” Talia said, intensely aware of his gaze, her skin prickling with the urge to feel his hands on her. “India and Italy…”

“Countries far beyond the sea.”

“Coffee comes from Mocha…”

“Wholesome tapioca…”

“Is from the West Indies brought…”

“Where the hummingbirds are caught.” James touched the hummingbird, its feathered wings moving back and forth.

“The same land produces fruits of richest juices…” Talia stopped, remembering the rest of the verse about Portugal, Spain, Africa, and Peru. She forced a smile to hide her sudden disconcertion. “That must have been the verse that sparked your desire to explore the world.”

James shook his head, still staring at the hummingbird.

“What did, then?” Talia asked curiously.

He didn’t respond. She remembered, with a twinge of pain, what he had told her about his father’s abuse of his mother. About how no one had tried to help Lady Castleford. It was hardly a wonder that he bore such ill will toward society.

It was hardly a wonder that he sought to escape.

She wanted to touch him again. Wanted to cover his hand with hers and slide her fingers up his forearm, into the cuff of his sleeve, where his skin would be warm and taut with muscle.

Their gazes met with that now-familiar energy that seared through Talia like an arrow of light.
Oh, James. Why couldn’t you believe in us?

She suppressed a wave of sorrow and stepped away from him, turning her attention to a toy train.

“The…the boys at Brick Street would enjoy such amusements.” She tried to keep her voice steady, tried to calm the pounding of her heart. “I’ll have to ask Mr. Blake if he would consider loaning or donating several automata to the school.”

“Ridley accepted the invitation to Friday night’s party,” James said suddenly.

Ridley?
The abrupt shift in conversation almost startled Talia. Why would James mention Ridley?

She turned to find him still watching her. “Oh?”

“He’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

“That’s very kind of him.”

He nodded, as if glad he’d gotten that message across. Talia quelled a rush of unease. She knew Ridley and James were good friends, but surely James wasn’t…

“Well, then.” Blake reentered the room and clapped his hands together. “Come along then, my lord. I’ll show you my workshop.”

Before James could protest again, Blake ambled off. Talia smiled at James’s resignation as they followed the inventor down the corridor to the depths of the house. As they walked, James opened the bag of candy and held it out toward Talia. She accepted a piece, and they shared a brief glance of enjoyment as they each bit into the sticky-sweet candy.

They went into the workshop, where dozens of greasy machine engines and parts lay scattered about the tables. Wires, gears, and bellows cluttered the floor, and the smell of oil filled the room.

“This is the mechanism that supports the interior engine,” Mr. Blake said, pausing beside an automaton of a dancing couple. He opened the base to show them the machine inside and the cranks that controlled the couple’s movements. “If you position this lever to control the main axis, then attach it to the crank wheel with…”

He went on about the details of the mechanism, his words becoming a drone in Talia’s ears. She glanced at James, expecting to see him looking equally bored. Instead he was not only listening to Mr. Blake, but even seemed…interested?

How odd. James relished the outdoors, nature, the mysteries of the natural world. He’d never expressed interest in machines or inventions—not like Talia’s brother Darius, who would take apart a train engine if he could, simply to learn how it operated.

By the time she and James took their leave and returned to King’s Street, it was nearing teatime, the sun glowing behind a layer of fog. They went inside and found Aunt Sally bustling around the drawing room.

“Oh, how lovely that you visited Mr. Blake.” Aunt Sally gestured for them to sit as she poured them tea. “Aren’t his inventions wonderful, James? And, Talia, Lord Ridley’s mother sent an invitation asking you to join her at her luncheon next Saturday.”

Talia couldn’t help glancing at James to gauge his reaction to that remark, since he’d found it necessary to mention Ridley earlier. His eyes were steely as he frowned down at his cup. Talia didn’t dare hope that his irritation might be directed not toward Ridley, but the fact that another man seemed interested in courting her.

As much as Talia had tried to tell herself she no longer felt anything for James, her heart still gave a little leap at the idea that he might be jealous. Because if he were jealous, surely that meant—

Stop.

“You’re leaving in a fortnight, aren’t you, James?” Sally asked brightly.

“The twelfth, my lady, yes.” He was still staring at his cup.

“Pity Talia can’t accompany you,” Sally continued. “I assume you’ll stop in St. Petersburg en route, will you not? It would be lovely for her to see Lydia and Alexander’s new babe.”

James looked at Talia, something flickering in the depths of his gold-flecked eyes that made her heart tighten. She still knew him. He was thinking the exact same thing she was…even with all that had passed between them, it would be an undeniable pleasure to visit St. Petersburg together.

She frowned, annoyed with him for eliciting such a thought. Annoyed with her aunt for suggesting it, especially after mentioning Lord Ridley…

An unpleasant speculation bit at Talia. Both Sally and James seemed rather intent upon assuring her of Lord Ridley’s attentions. Though Talia had nothing against the man, she was not interested in pursuing the matter—especially since Sally had now planted the idea of a passionate, blissful marriage in Talia’s mind. She would never have such a union with Lord Ridley, no matter how kind he was. The only man with whom she could imagine such a—