Wallflower 01 by Secrets of a Summer Night

Author:Secrets of a Summer Night [Night, Secrets of a Summer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-01-16T17:23:21.982000+00:00

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Hunt nodded. “It’s the British partner of Shaw Foundries.”

“Which belongs to Lady Olivia’s fiancé, Mr. Shaw?”

“Exactly. Shaw is helping us to adapt to the American system of engine building, which is far more efficient and productive than the British method.”

“I’ve always heard that British-made machinery is the best in the world,” Annabelle commented.

“Arguable. But even so, it’s seldom standardized. No two locomotives built in Britain are exactly alike, which slows production considerably and makes repairs difficult. However, if we could follow the American example and produce uniform cast-molded parts, using standard gauges and templates, we can build an engine in a matter of weeks rather than months, and perform repairs with lightning speed.”

As they conversed, Annabelle watched Hunt with fascination, having never seen a man talk this way about his profession. In her experience, work was not something that men usually liked to discuss, as the very concept of laboring for one’s living was a distinct hallmark of the lower classes. If an upper-class gentleman was obliged to have a profession, he tried to be very discreet about it and pretend that most of his time was spent in leisure activities. But Simon Hunt made no effort to conceal his enjoyment of his work—and for some reason Annabelle found that strangely attractive.

At her urging, Hunt described the business further, telling her all about his negotiations for the purchase of a railway-owned foundry, which was being converted to the new American-inspired system. Two of the nine buildings on the five-acre site had already been transformed into a foundry that produced standardized bolts, pistons, rods, and valves. These, along with some parts that had been imported from Shaw Foundries in New York, were being assembled into a series of four-coupled and six-coupled engines that would be sold throughout Europe.

“How often do you visit the site?” Annabelle asked, taking a bite of pheasant cutlet dressed with a creamy watercress sauce.

“Daily, when I’m in town.” Hunt contemplated the contents of his wineglass with a slight frown. “I’ve stayed away for too long, actually—I’ll have to go to London soon, to check on progress.”

The idea that he would soon leave Hampshire should have made Annabelle glad. Simon Hunt was a distraction that she could ill afford, and it would be far easier to focus her attentions on Lord Kendall when Hunt had quit the estate altogether. However, she felt strangely hollow, realizing how much she enjoyed his company and how lifeless Stony Cross Park would seem once he had gone.

“Will you come back before the party ends?” she asked, devoting great concentration to mincing a morsel of pheasant with her knife.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

His voice was very soft. “On whether I have sufficient reason to return.”

Annabelle did not look at him. Rather, she lapsed into a restless silence and turned her unseeing gaze to the window aperture, through which the luxuriant melody of Schubert’sRosamunde poured.

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