The Prince's Pilot by Shelley Adina & R. E. Scott

Author:Shelley Adina & R. E. Scott [Adina, Shelley & Scott, R. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781950854448
Publisher: Moonshell Books, Inc.

Chapter 15

Thank goodness her persona as Aimée Jourdamour was so insignificant. Happy thought indeed—Loveday was not dragged from her work simply to provide an admiring audience for a man who could not get enough attention.

After poor Celeste had hustled from the office in all her finery, Loveday settled in at the workbench with her drawings of the air ship that would never be. Chin in hand, pencil tapping on the table, she considered the changes Celeste had drawn in and extrapolated further. A section of piping here, a storage cabinet there, and what about a double hull? They might do cedar on the inside, iron sheathing on the outside, then run all the piping and rigging ropes between the two layers. After all, if it was never going to fly, one might as well be as extravagant as one pleased.

So absorbed was she that an hour passed before she heard the chiming of a clock. She lifted her head, waiting for the entire palace to ring the hour. Surely Celeste would be back soon? How long did these ridiculous audiences take?

But only a single chime came again.

With a sharp intake of breath, she realized it was not the clocks at all. It was the boîte d’alerte, chiming because someone had stood on the leads! In the next moment, the secret door rattled, but of course would not open with the newly designed lock upon it.

Loveday leaped from her stool and dashed across the room, whipping a hairpin out of her Psyche knot as she went. The lock was opened in a matter of seconds, and she flung open the secret door.

The servants’ corridor was empty.

“Who is there?” she demanded of the shadowy darkness, like a ninny. What assassin would be so polite as to reply?

Hmph. She made certain the leads were back in place and closed the door with a bang, to let the miscreant know she knew he had been there, then repositioned the boîte d’alerte where it had been before. She had no sooner snapped the padlock closed on the hasp than Celeste burst in, closely followed by Wintzen.

“Loveday!” she cried. “Are you all right?”

How had she known? She indicated the rack, now back in place. “Someone was there, but they ran when they found the door locked. I hope it was not a servant.”

“A servant would have knocked,” Wintzen said. “You are certain you are all right?”

“Yes, but why should you fear I am not?”

“Because we think all that fuss and bother to get me to court was simply to get us out of the room.” Celeste unfastened the frogs across her bosom. “Help me out of this gown, would you?”

Loveday removed the feathers, which were in the way, and handed them to Wintzen. Then she lifted the outer layer from Celeste’s shoulders and laid it over a chair. The inner gown with the upstanding lace collar was the fussy part.

“Luckily they did not take my insignificance into account,” she said as she labored. “I am happy to report that the boîte d’alerte worked perfectly.

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