Dragons & Dirigibles by Cindy Spencer Pape

Author:Cindy Spencer Pape
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Victor sipped slowly at the local ale, aware that half the men of the village had gathered to observe the new lord on his first visit to the public house. Why hadn’t he thought to come here sooner? Perhaps along with Barnaby, who sat in a corner by the fire with Victor’s coachman. Victor had shaken a half dozen hands, fielded as many congratulations about his supposed upcoming nuptials, and been ignored or outright shunned by the other patrons of the taproom.

“I really think you’re going to need a steam car,” Tom said, loudly enough to be overheard. They were deliberately taking about nothing of importance. “Melody is used to having her own runabout.”

Victor let his instincts rule his reply. “My countess will not be running about the countryside on her own in some mechanical contraption. She will travel in carriage, properly escorted by me or my servants.” As soon as he said it, he realized how stuffy he sounded. Christ, he was a stodgy old bastard, wasn’t he? When had that happened?

Tom’s eyes twinkled. “Not too familiar with your bride-to-be, are you, old man?” He pitched that low enough that no one else could hear. Louder, he said, “Well, you might want to consider upgrading your roads, just in case. I think steam cars are the wave of the future. And of course, she’ll need an airship landing field.”

Victor growled. “Damn thing nearly got her killed.” The idea of her up in the sky on her own just curdled his stomach and made him nauseated.

Tom shrugged. “Kind of hypocritical for a navy man, don’t you think? How many sailors drown at sea in a given year? Far more than die in airship mishaps.”

Victor took another gulp of ale, mainly to quench the flames that seemed to be building in his skull, turning his vision red. “Different,” he managed to mumble.

“If you say so.” Tom leaned back in his chair and winked at the barmaid. “It’s a nice little town you’ve got here. Might not mind staying awhile.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” The last thing Victor needed was a semipermanent houseguest or a long-term reminder that Melody wasn’t really meant to be his.

Tom sighed. “I have good managers on my estates and I’ve some leave time coming from the Home Office. Been thinking about investing in shipping. Maybe you could give me some advice.”

Victor had no idea how much was truth and how much was rubbish. “Well, we do all right. Mostly East Indies and China trade. I have a couple ships running to Boston and Richmond.”

“Really?” Tom lifted an eyebrow. “What kind of cargoes?”

“We run wool, along with Spanish spices and fruit to the new world. Mostly cotton and tobacco back here.”

“Not African slaves? I hear there’s good money in that.” Tom signaled the waitress for another round of ale.

Victor shook his head. “No. My grandfather was violently opposed to slavery. Hell, he didn’t even like the idea of landed gentry. Always wondered why he didn’t move to America in the first place.

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