The Earl and the Artificer by Kara Jorgensen

Author:Kara Jorgensen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: steampunk, victorian romance, asexual, gaslamp, inventor, gothic
Publisher: Fox Collie Publishing
Published: 2016-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

BY THE TIME THEY ARRIVED at Brasshurst Hall, the gravel drive was lined with idling steamers waiting to reach the manor’s Gothic portal. On the drizzly night, no one had chanced walking through the muddy fields to reach the great house or risked their necks to share the gravel paths with cabs in the grey haze. If he hadn’t brought his steamer, they would have been slogging through the mist on foot.

The house rose from the mist, its stone exterior taking on an ethereal sheen from the wavering glow of the gas lamps within as it spilled from the tall arched windows and overflowed from the skylights and orangery dome. Even from the old stone bridge, Nadir could make out the orbs of faerie lamps hovering in the jungle of the greenhouse. As he stared, they flickered and danced, occasionally blinking when an unseen figure crossed before them.

“Did I tell you that Lady Dorset modeled the decorations after my description of those parties my parents used to throw in the vineyard?” he declared offhandedly, but when he received only a stifled groan in response, he turned to find his cousin shifting uncomfortably in the seat beside him. “Leona, are you—”

Before he could finish, she grabbed the flesh on the back of his arm and pinched it hard enough that he cried out. As he opened his mouth to speak, she put her finger to her lips and glowered at him. She nodded toward Argus who inched the cab forward unaware of what was transpiring in the backseat. Drawing in a constrained breath, she exhaled slowly and closed her eyes.

Nadir tapped the back of her hand until she looked up at him. He mouthed, “Are you all right?”

Her dark brows knit together as she grimaced and silently replied, “Don’t say anything, I’m fine.”

“I do hope there are drinks there. The earl and countess aren’t temperate are they?”

“Even if they were, what do you need alcohol for, Argus? You see these people every day,” Nadir replied with a scoff.

“I don’t see them all at once. There will be so many people. Just look at all the cabs. Everyone’s here.”

“Thank God you don’t live in London then. You would drink yourself to death.”

“Nadir, leave him alone,” his cousin replied in a strained whisper.

Sitting in silence, the procession of steamers filed toward the house and disappeared around the corner as liveried servants moved the cars out of sight. At the entrance, the footman opened the door to allow Leona and Argus to step out. Nadir drew in a calming breath, pursed his lips, and concentrated his energy into cultivating his signature stare. A waiting servant took their coats as they crossed the tunneled hall. In the cloistered space, the din of voices and music seemed so far away, but the energy hummed only yards beyond his reach. Hundreds of people waited just beyond the threshold and all that held them back was a layer of ancient stone.

Stepping into the great hall, the ceiling rose away and with it came the bouncing melody of a merry waltz.

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