The Inventor's Secret (9 page)

The Dragonfly turned smoothly, and suddenly the
ground fell away. Charlotte gasped when they cleared the
cavern and she was staring down into the gorge below. Her
stomach dropped as the ship lifted, soaring into the sky at
what felt like an impossible speed.
Charlotte heard Meg calling her name, but she kept her
chair turned away from the back of the cabin. The Dragonfly rose up and up; the forest and river blurred into a
mess of greens and blues far below and then disappeared
as they cleared the clouds. Charlotte had to shield her eyes
from the dazzling sunlight that poured over her, but her
heart was fit to burst from exhilaration. She wished she
were with Jack in the cockpit so she could see him maneuver the aircraft and understand how the ship could move
so nimbly. More than that, she wanted to see what Jack
was like at the helm. Was he anxious as a pilot, having
fled from the military a year before? Or had he longed to
fly again? Since she’d learned about Jack’s past, they’d all
been so caught up in preparations for this journey that she
hadn’t been able to speak with him at all. And she had so
many questions about the life he’d kept hidden. To see him
pilot the Dragonfly would be a window into the past that
so fascinated her.
Charlotte wanted to study Jack’s face, to know if she’d
find joy or fear in his expression. Her fingers curled around
the arms of the gunner’s chair as she thought of not only
watching Jack, but sitting close to him as he controlled the
aircraft. Her daydream evolved of its own accord, and she
imagined reaching out to rest her hand over Jack’s to feel
the way he guided the ship.
Startled by the sudden turn in her thoughts, Charlotte
quickly shook her head to clear the unbidden vision. Her
cheeks were heated and her breath short, but Charlotte
assured herself that it was nothing and refocused on the
swiftly passing clouds and endless expanse of sky.

N HOUR LATER, lulled by the tranquility of the cloud line, Charlotte began to drift
off. Before sleep could steal her from consciousness, Ash’s voice barked through the
cabin.

Charlotte tried to jump up, but had forgotten that she
was harnessed into her chair. When the leather straps restrained her, she dropped hard onto the seat and banged
her head.

“Shield of Athene!”

“Are you all right, Lottie?” Meg called.
Rubbing the back of her head, Charlotte swiveled

“You needn’t worry about standing until we’ve docked,”
Meg told her. “There are bound to be a few bumps during
our arrival.”

Charlotte nodded, but when she turned back to the
window, she was frowning. How did Meg know what
docking at one of the Empire’s dirigibles was like? Had
Jack told her? Had she experienced it before? Were all of
her companions keeping secrets?

Resenting that facts seemed to be constantly hidden
from her, Charlotte leaned forward as much as the harness
would allow, hoping to catch a glimpse of HMCS
Hector.
At first her view remained only a vast sea of clouds, but
then something loomed at the edge of her vision. Charlotte
strained against the leather straps, but she could see only a
brass propeller slicing through the air.

Cursing under her breath, Charlotte unbuckled the
harness and freed herself from the chair.
“Charlotte, sit down!” Meg shouted.
Charlotte ignored the command and made her way
from the cabin to the cockpit. She wanted to see the airship
before they docked, bumps be damned. Bracing herself in
the flight deck’s entryway, Charlotte gasped at the view
from the Dragonfly’s helm.
His Majesty’s Colonial Ship
Hector
blotted out half the
sky. Smoke and flame belched from towering columns into
four balloons as large and black as thunderclouds. Suspended from the balloons was a long, slender craft featuring two decks—it appeared that the upper deck had been
designed for military purposes, considering the massive
guns that jutted from the side of the ship, while the lower
deck accommodated the needs of civilians, as it featured
viewing portholes.
The figure protruding from the ship’s bow was a roaring lion’s head. Charlotte glanced at Jack’s waist, confirming what she’d thought. The silver lion on the handle of his
pistol was identical to that on the ship.
From the copilot’s chair, Ash snapped, “Damn it all,
Charlotte! Why aren’t you in your seat?”
Keeping a firm hold on the metal frame of the cockpit’s
entry, Charlotte drew herself up. “I wanted to see the airship before we docked. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ve seen it,” Ash said coldly. “Now go back to the
cabin.”
“No.”
“By Athene, I will drag you there.” Ash unbuckled his
harness.
“You will not,” Charlotte snapped.
Ash started to rise, but Jack threw his arm out, knocking Ash back into his chair.
“Quiet, both of you.” Jack didn’t take his eyes off the
dirigible. “I have to dock this ship, and you brawling won’t
make it any easier.”
“Jack, she shouldn’t be up here,” Ash said.
“I don’t care where she is as long as she stops distracting me,” Jack answered. “That goes for you too. Besides,
I’m a good pilot. If Charlotte has any grace at all, she’ll be
fine.”
“I have plenty of grace,” Charlotte snapped, though she
gripped the entryway tighter. There was no way in hell she
would let herself fall after that remark.
Ash threw a withering look at Jack, who paid him no
notice. Jack began tapping a thin brass lever rhythmically,
and Charlotte’s gaze flicked out to the corresponding flash
of lights in the sky. A minute later, an answering barrage of
bright flashes shot toward them from the dirigible.
“We’re cleared to dock,” Jack told them. “Last chance
to ditch.”
“Just fly the damn ship,” Ash growled.
“Aye, aye, sir,” Jack replied, adding, “Though technically I outrank you—so you should be calling me sir.”
Ash raised his hand as if to cuff Jack on the back of the
head.
“No attacking the pilot, Ash!” Charlotte glared at her
brother.
Ash shrugged. “I’m menacing the pilot, not attacking.
Though he deserves it.”
“Of course he does,” Charlotte said. “But the rest of us
don’t deserve to crash because Jack can be an ass.”
“I’m just trying to help you stay in character, dear
man,” Jack objected, but he kept his eyes on the looming
dirigible and his grip firm on the controls.
Dismissing Jack’s outburst, Charlotte leaned forward,
observing the rapidly approaching airship. Jack guided the
Dragonfly toward the larger ship’s underbelly, where large
glass and brass columns protruded. Charlotte thought the
design gave the dirigible a rather obscene resemblance to a
bloated cow and its udder. The HMCS
Hector
lacked the
grace and sleekness of the Dragonfly. Though buoyant, the
craft looked as if it would only lumber through the sky, its
bulk plowing a path across the clouds.
Their ship was closing in on the udder-like protrusions.
“You’re up, Ash,” Jack said without a glance at Ashley.
“Remember what I told you?”
“Despite your doubts, I’ll stay in character.”
Ash unbuckled his harness and ducked out of the cockpit. Charlotte started toward Ash’s vacated chair, but hearing the rustle of her skirts, Jack shook his head.
“Sorry, Charlotte. Ladies don’t sit in the cockpit, and
in another minute, you’ll be spotted by the
Hector
’s crew.
Step back and stay out of sight.”
Charlotte felt the urge to cuff Jack like Ashley had,
but instead she retreated to the holding bay and began to
mutter about Jack’s character flaws under her breath. She
was still compiling her list when the Dragonfly slowed until it was hovering. A rush of wind from the rear of the
craft lifted Charlotte’s dress hem to her knees as the roar
of the dirigible’s engines poured into their ship. When she
reached down to cover her legs, the Dragonfly lurched and
then shuddered, and Charlotte was sent sprawling onto the
cargo bay floor.
The steady hum of the aircraft stilled, and Jack appeared in the cockpit entryway to find Charlotte on her
hands and knees, cursing up a storm.
“Plenty of grace?” Jack grinned at her.
Refusing his outstretched hand, Charlotte stood up,
grateful that she hadn’t scraped her knees in the fall. She
doubted bloodstains on one’s skirts were part of current
fashion in the city.
With a sigh, Jack let his hand drop to his side while
Charlotte smoothed out the delicate fabric of her dress.
When she looked at him again, he offered his arm.
“In the city, you’ll be expected to take a gentleman’s
arm if offered, Charlotte,” Jack said, heading off her objection.
Charlotte sniffed. “You’re hardly a gentleman.”
“Usually I’d agree.” Jack’s laugh was cold. “But in New
York, I am a gentleman. And no matter what you actually
think of me, while we’re here, you have to play along.”
His voice was laced with resentment that drained
any impudence from Charlotte, and she slipped her arm
through Jack’s. He led her into the cabin. Meg and Grave
were unbuckling themselves from their seats.
“Go get the luggage,” Jack told the pair, but kept guiding Charlotte toward the rear of the craft.
At the point where the cabin tapered toward the Dragonfly’s tail, Ashley had opened a portal in the roof. Now
he watched an extension of the glass and brass column that
Charlotte had seen on the dirigible telescope its way into
the Dragonfly. The tube’s segments stretched all the way to
the floor of the aircraft. Other than the brass fittings, the
column was transparent and hollow, except for what appeared to be a brass capsule hovering just inside the tube.
It was also large; wide enough for Charlotte to stand beneath with her arms outstretched. The last segment of the
column featured a brass wheel about the size of a man’s
fist. Another blast of air swirled around Charlotte’s ankles, and a moment later, a length of slender brass-plated
tubing snaked its way down the column. Ashley grabbed
the end of the tube and screwed it into a soundbox on the
Dragonfly’s wall.
Removing Charlotte’s hand from his forearm, Jack approached the tube. He gave the wheel a half-turn and one
panel of the tube hissed open, revealing an oval door in the
side of the capsule.
“Nice work,” he said to Ashley, who merely nodded.
Jack glanced back at Charlotte. “Come on, Charlotte.
Etiquette demands that the most esteemed passengers
board first.”
Charlotte joined Jack and her brother beside the telescoped column.
Peering at the glass tube and its resident, person-sized
capsule, she said with a frown, “What is this?”
“Just step into the capsule,” Jack answered. “You’ll get
where you need to go.”
The way he seemed to be barely containing laughter
did little to encourage Charlotte.
A tinny voice piped from the soundbox. “Please embark.”
Jack opened the door, and shoved Charlotte into the
capsule, which afforded her enough room to stand up
straight, but that was all. “Don’t keep ’em waiting.”
Before she could turn to scold him for his ungallant behavior, Jack smiled wickedly, slammed the door shut, and
turned the brass wheel.
Charlotte heard a whoosh of air and then yelped in surprise as suction from above jerked the capsule up the glass
tube. After a short, but violent journey the door sprung
open and Charlotte popped out of the entry valve into the
arms of three waiting butlers, who quickly ushered the
startled young woman to a settee upholstered in emerald
velvet.
“Will you require smelling salts, Miss Marshall?” one
of the butlers asked. The men were dressed in uniforms
that struck Charlotte as a cross between military and domestic service: knee-high, glossy leather boots, a formfitting jacket with bright brass buttons left open at the throat
to reveal a scarlet silk kerchief, and white kid gloves.
Embarrassed that she’d been caught off guard, Charlotte tried to compose herself, but just as quickly remembered that she was playing the part of a pampered heiress.
She placed her hand at her throat and took deep breaths,
all the while feeling the rapid pace of her pulse beneath her
fingers.
“Thank you, but I believe I’ll recover without them.”
Thus assured, the trio of uniformed men hurried away.
“Oooo-ohhhh!”
The cry drew Charlotte’s gaze to the left side of the
room where a stout woman shot up through the floor from
another tube. Apparently she was familiar with the arrival
process, because she thrust her arms out the moment the
capsule door opened as if expecting to be caught. Her generous figure had been stuffed into a frock of stiff violet
silk, and the butlers staggered back when she fell against
them.
There were four valves, one in each corner of the room,
while the central space was crowded with velvet settees and
overstuffed silk pillows. The butlers shuttled the woman,
who moaned all the while, to Charlotte’s side.
“Salts, Lady Ott?” a butler inquired as the large woman
swooned. There was a dry note in his voice that made
Charlotte suspect Lady Ott was a regular passenger and
that the butler thought her distress an affectation.
Lady Ott kept her eyes shut and shook her head. “Just
faerie fans, good man. Be quick about it.”
The butler snapped his fingers, and one of his peers
hurried away, only to return a moment later bearing a gilt
box. He placed the box at Lady Ott’s feet and set about
turning the minuscule crank that protruded from one side
of the mysterious container. When the butler released the
crank and stepped back, the box’s golden lid sprung open.
A tinkling melody typical of a music box filled the air, but
so did whirring and clicking noises.
Charlotte managed to stifle her gasp as four mechanical faeries emerged from the box, their gold mesh wings
holding them aloft before Lady Ott’s face while slender
golden chains tethered the tiny creatures to the box. Charlotte went still, enthralled by the faeries as Lady Ott sighed
and leaned toward their beating wings.
Her astonishment waning, Charlotte’s eyes narrowed.
The four little mechanical beasts couldn’t be creating any
real sort of wind—their wings were much too small to generate serious air flow—clearly these faerie fans were more
spectacle than practical.
Charlotte clucked her tongue in disapproval, giving
Lady Ott occasion to notice there was another person, besides the butlers, in the arrival bay.
After taking a few minutes to scrutinize Charlotte’s appearance, and apparently liking what she saw, Lady Ott
smiled and said, “Horrid, isn’t it, my dear? These men and
their contraptions. They simply don’t understand how important it is for a woman to arrive with unmussed hair and
smooth skirts.”
The plump woman continued to bask in the light breeze
created by the fairy fans. “What sort of transport did you
take to the
Hector
?”
“A Dragonfly.” Charlotte’s cheeks went cold with
dread. She may have been trussed up like a noble lady of
the Floating City, but now she’d have to act the part as
well, and her tongue wanted only to tie itself into a knot.
Casting a curious sidelong glance at Charlotte, Lady
Ott said, “A military craft. Much too cramped for my
taste, made for war rather than comfort. My husband and
I came in a Scarab. Even so, I was more than ready to be off
that small craft and onto the
Hector,
as is proper for ladies.
Glories of the Empire they call these airships. I’ve found it
to be true. I’ll travel no other way. The seafaring versions
just aren’t the same. Don’t you agree?”
Charlotte didn’t know if she agreed, but she nodded.
Fortunately, Lady Ott was happy to keep talking.
“It can’t be helped,” the plump woman continued. “We
can’t keep to our country halls during the social season,
now, can we?”
“No?” Charlotte supplied, with some hesitation.
Taking Charlotte’s uncertain tone as a jest, Lady Ott
tittered with laughter, making her ample, but constrained
bosom, quiver like jelly. Charlotte was a bit nervous that
the woman’s stays would snap if put under too much stress.
“Of course we can’t,” Lady Ott agreed. “But I haven’t
seen you at any of the balls or tourneys, my dear. Surely
you haven’t been neglecting your social duties?”
Trapped by the question, Charlotte could only think
to say, “Perhaps I have been. I’m afraid this is my first visit
to the Floating City. I’m from the islands, and until now I
haven’t been away from my father’s plantation estate.”
Lady Ott pursed her lips, and Charlotte worried she’d
said something wrong, but suddenly the older woman’s
face lit up.
“By Athene’s grace, you’re being presented, aren’t you?”
Lady Ott beamed. “Such a demure young lady to keep
quiet about it. Ah, how well I remember my own debut
into New York society. What house has sponsored you?”
Charlotte forced her mouth into a demure smile and
nodded with as much shyness as she could manage. Before
she could reply, however, a voice answered.
“The House of Winter.”
Charlotte startled, her silk skirts nearly made her slip
from the settee. As she half turned to look at Jack, he
placed his hand on her shoulder, steadying her. Jack must
have emerged from the arrival valve while Charlotte was
distracted by Lady Ott and her faerie fans.
Lady Ott gasped. “You can’t mean Admiral Winter’s
estate?”
“The same,” Jack answered, a bit stiffly.
The noblewoman’s gaze returned to Charlotte. “Wherever have they been hiding you? What a coup this is! All of
New York will be aflutter when they hear of this.”
It was clear Lady Ott was thrilled that she would be the
source of such juicy gossip. Charlotte lowered her eyes as if
demure, but in truth it was the best way to avoid having to
carry on a conversation with this ridiculous woman.