The Shot: Traincoach of Death, Book 1 (2 page)

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Authors: Leona Bushman

Tags: #Steampunk Romance

BOOK: The Shot: Traincoach of Death, Book 1
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“I recognize the name,” she said. Her father used the excuse of her age to keep her out of some of the business meetings, but she still kept up with who ran what within the company. One day, it would be hers. Her father only kept about ten percent after she reached her majority. “Nice to meet you,” she added belatedly.

“And you,” he replied with a brief nod. “May I?” he asked, indicating the seat next to hers.

“Of course.” When he sat on the comfortable chair, she searched for something to say and finally settled on business as a safe topic. “What made you decide to be in the business of railroads and trains, Mr. Howell?”

“Call me Bill. Please. It’s going to be a long trip. To answer your question, don’t all boys grow up wanting to work on trains?” he asked with a winning smile.

“No,” she said primly, although she felt the corners of her mouth twitch at his easy going ways.

“All my life, I wanted to work around trains, on trains, drive them, anything. Trains have been my passion since I was a young child when they whistled across the meadows near where I grew up. I drove my parents crazy wanting to run down by the railroad crossings and watch all the traffic. The horse carriages thrilled me too, the way they weaved in and out, going where the traincoaches could not, the animals weaving and bobbing their heads as if bemused by the racket. I loved it.”

Victoria watched the memories play across his face in the form of happy lines around his eyes and the slight upturn of one side of his mouth. Despite her apprehension and doubts, she softened toward him. This man appeared to be someone she could like if she had met him by chance and not through her father’s cumbersome meddling.

“At least your love of trains is real,” she murmured. How often had it not been with the pretenders, only after her money? With regret, for his wit and attitude drew her to him, she delivered her routine message. “Do you know the real reason you are here, Bill?”

His face reflected a momentary surprise before shutting down. It was awe inspiring watching his face go from open and friendly to business and impersonal so quickly. A trick she wished to replicate before too long.

“What do you mean real reason?” he asked in a low voice, a thread of anger underlining his otherwise calm demeanor.

She sighed. It really would break her heart to drive Bill off after such a promising start, but she had to all the more because she liked him. She could not let him be caught up in her father’s mechanisms and given false hopes where none lay. She planned on keeping her titles and her money, and run the company the way her mom would have wanted her to.

“You’re the fifty-third man my father has thrown at me—or thrown me at—since I turned eighteen. If he would have his way, I’d be married and off taking care of my children while the men folk take care of business, like a good southern lady.”

If he noticed her facetiousness, he didn’t mention it, only peered at her thoughtfully. “That must be frustrating for someone of your intelligence.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, more suspicious than ever. “What would you know of my intelligence or lack thereof? You’ve only met me minutes ago.”

“I’m the CEO of the southern division of your family’s business. I didn’t dedicate myself to this company without doing research on it. Also, when I started moving up in the hierarchy, I began to pay attention to my employers, present and future. As there are only two children left in the immediate family, I assumed you and your sister would possess some say in the future running of this company. However, she remains somewhat of a mystery to the public. Although I found evidence to suggest she is not coming back to the family fold as one might expect in a family business. You are the face of The Louisiana Rail and Engine Company. Most people associate your smiling face with the company, since the death of your mother, of course.”

Victoria nearly groaned aloud.
Why did he manage to sound so logical and businesslike when I feel like a shrew?
She jumped up and started pacing.
Moreover, his estimations are right on.
She had noticed it when she went to college and a large number of people, whom she did not know, recognized her. Now guilt tugged at her heart for her not-so-nice answer to him.

“Fair enough, Mr...Bill.” She corrected herself at his look. “An astute observation. So, I’ll answer your earlier statements: yes, it is frustrating. Even more so when the man is in cahoots with my father and only interested in the money. I hate liars, cheats, and sneaks. I took the business classes in college, enough to get a minor in business. But there’s a reason I majored in art history and English. I don’t like the backstabbing that goes along with working in the business arena. I don’t know if your Poodle searches revealed it, but I’ve worked in the company from the time I became old enough to sit at a dinner table and use the proper forks. At first, I only had to look pretty. Then my mom began teaching me more about the business our family—on her side—started so long ago. Before she died, I’d learned more about business than most teenagers knew about gaming and smart voicelets.”

Bill sat back in his comfortable chair and looked at her calmly for a minute before answering. “My searches didn’t show any of that. However, I’m not surprised. Most kids who grow up in a family business learn young. What did your father think of it?”

“Mostly he ignored it. When he did pay attention, it was to say there was no point in teaching it to me.”

Bill stood up and put his hands on her shoulders, effectively stopping her pacing and forcing her to look at him. “I don’t understand the dynamics in your family or your father. But I promise you, I only do what I want to do. No one, not even you, will manipulate me into doing something I don’t want to do. I’m going on this trip because it’s a good opportunity to see how the business is faring. Numbers and reports only tell you so much. If something happens between us, it will be because we want it and not because of your father. Maybe, when you trust me more, you can tell me why your father is so determined to see you wed,” he said in a tone of voice which intoned he wouldn’t be denied. Then, in a lighter tone he added, “Fifty-three? Really?”

Stunned and relieved, she couldn’t find her voice at first. “Yes,” she said, smiling, which turned to laughter. “When my friends were complaining about their fathers trying to scare off their boyfriends, mine set me up with men of his choosing.” His touch warmed her, and she tried not to think about it. Nice or not, she’d not be caught up in her father’s schemes.

“I...” Whatever he intended to say became lost as the traincoach lurched and a loud crash of metal rent the air.

Chapter Three

Since Bill’s hands remained on Victoria’s shoulders, they didn’t fall, just pitched forward a bit and retrieved their balance. It startled her to have this happen before they’d left the station, though, and hearing that noise while on a train put her nerves on edge regardless of their position. They both stuck their heads out the windows, looking to see what had hit them. Victoria could not believe her eyes. A huge train, the engine so far ahead she could not make it out, had just backed into her family’s traincoach.

“Dial, Father,” she said into her earwing.
Holy hell, how did this happen? Father is going to blow a gasket!
Grinning, she looked at Bill and couldn’t suppress her laughter. “Oh, I can’t wait to see what Father does about this,” she said with glee. Something had happened to his precious schedule.

“Oh?” Bill replied.

“He prides himself on his self-control, but he also does not take changes or mistakes well. Oh, just a sec.” She paused as she focused attention on her father’s voice in the earpiece. “Hello, Father. I’m on the train, and you’ll never believe what happened,” she began. However, she made it no further in her explanation.

“Uh-huh…I see.” She looked at Bill in consternation. “Okay. Do you know when you will make it onboard?” Her eyebrows rose as she listened to his response. “Fine. I’ll see you then. Okay. Yes. Goodbye, Father.”

“Well...” Bill prompted when she continued to stand there in silence.

“When my father invited you along, did he give you the impression it would be on our personal traincoach?” she asked without directly answering him.

“What? Yes.”

“Well, it’s our traincoach, but we are being pulled by the mainline. Father’s decided we need to be attached to a larger train. Says it will make the visits more of a surprise, and we’ll get a better idea of how each station is being run.”

“Makes sense,” Bill replied.

“Yes, it does,” she said, bitterness tinging her voice regardless of her best efforts to keep it neutral. “I even told him it was unlikely we could make surprise visits on any station since we need to schedule our arrivals and departures in order to not cross another train at the wrong time. He acted as if I’d said the dumbest thing he’d ever heard and dismissed me.”
Rudely.
She shook her head and sat back in her chair. “I’ll never understand that man,” she murmured under her breath.

Bill settled into the seat next to her before replying. “So he decided to run with another train, apparently,” he queried. At her nod, he continued. “And didn’t tell you?”

“No. Not even when I boarded. He just told me to get ready for our
guest
,” she said, the bitterness again leaching into her voice. Would he never show her respect? Ever see her as more than a means to an end? “Far be it from him to let me know the plans had changed.”

“This could be useful to you,” Bill said slowly, in the manner of one thinking out loud.

Victoria stopped her rant, waiting for Bill to elaborate. When he did not do so, she shook her head and stood up, proceeding to the door.

“I don’t see how,” she finally said.

“I want to think about it for a little while. A plan is starting to form, but I need to work out the details,” he replied.

Amused, even with the situation at hand, she smiled at him. “You are so different from the others he’s brought around. Maybe this won’t be such a bad trip after all.”

His answering grin sent shivers of awareness through her. “I’m glad to hear it. Now, what shall we do while awaiting departure?”

She started to answer him, but never got the chance. The Earl of Louisiana walked in.

The Earl began speaking before the door shut behind him. “Oh good. I hope you two took the chance to get acquainted. It’s going to be a long trip.”

***

Bill eyed the Earl with contempt, though he kept it carefully hidden. He understood that most of the titled nobles and gentry still practiced the custom of telling their children whom to marry and when, and many of them still married for lands and titles. However, he hadn’t liked it when his parents tried it on him, and he didn’t like it currently.

“Victoria,” he said, giving her father a cursory glance. “Would you go on a promenade with me?”

Her unexpected giggle hit him in the gut and put his cock in gear, causing him to need to turn so it wouldn’t be obvious to her father. Lord, he’d just met her, and he reacted like this?

“Yes, I would be glad for the walk. No one’s ever called the social lounge deck a promenade before,” she said her eyes twinkling like candles at night.

They moved to the newly attached car, easy in each other’s company. She even allowed him to help her across the couplings. “I don’t need help,” she told him even as she allowed him to hold her hand. “I’ve been crossing couplings all my life, like most every other child in Great Britain.

With a practiced eye, he scanned the area for threats as well as ascertaining the opulence. It truly was a piece of machine magnificence. Dwarf versions of trees from Hyde Park dotted the rich meadow with the High King’s Lake represented as well. Only those in favor of the High King or Queen were allowed entrance into the once public park, and he wondered how the earl managed to copy it so realistically on his traincoach.

The dome-like car contained walking passageways on the upper levels, with a glass ceiling and plenty of windows. He stopped to read the mock historical information and learned with astonishment that the board was an exact duplicate of the one at Hyde Park. It told of the rich history and how, after a civil war in the seventeenth century and the establishment of the four king constitutional monarchy system, they’d closed down the park because of the rebels who’d used it for their battleground. For nearly three hundred years, it stood as a monument of what can happen and as a symbol that the monarchy must remain strong, or it could lose the many lands which provided such great wealth to all of the Great Britain Empire.

The Americas became a great source of untapped wealth at that time. A rebellion there nearly cost them the northern continent. However, the High King, Emperor for those not on the home continent, foresaw the simmering issues. He listened to the lower king, who’d warned him of the grumblings, and lowered taxes on tea and other goods, as well as given boons which snuffed out the rebellion before it caught fire. All of this passed through his mind quickly as he reappraised himself of the continent’s history.

Now, Bill looked around him. The Empire had mightily excelled and expanded, becoming the largest nation in the world due to men and women like those in the Hastings family. But it still didn’t answer his question, so he asked Victoria. “How’d you get a replica of bits of Hyde Park and the historical board?”

“My grandmother and the dowager queen grew up together and were fast friends. As a youngling, I played in those gardens,” she replied.

“But that means...” He trailed off, not sure of the safest way to ask. How much could he say without risking revealing his identity? The King of Americas would have his hide. He looked around.
No pun intended.

“Is it a problem that I possess a title?”

More like six, including Duchess, which, for some reason, the family managed to subvert from the public consciousness. One of his many tasks to fish out. “Not a problem. You just hadn’t informed me that I should be addressing you as
my lady
.”

“They are not as formal in the Americas as on the Continent. In the early days, the land was so wild and seemingly untamable, lawlessness abounded. For our protection, we got out of the habit. Now, at a formal ball, I am still introduced as The Lady Moores, Viscountess.”

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