Romancing the Inventor: A Supernatural Society Novella by Gail Carriger

Author:Gail Carriger [Carriger, Gail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: werewolf, parasol protectorate, London, fantasy, paranormal romance, LBGTQ, Gail Carriger, seduction, steampunk, humor, gaslight, tea, inventor, Victorian, alexiatarabotti, comedy, carriger, love, engineer, manners, witty, urban fantasy, Supernatural, scientist, paranormal, vampire, heart, wits, society, Romance
ISBN: 9781944751067
Publisher: GAIL CARRIGER LLC
Published: 2016-10-31T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

In Which Imogene Contemplates Rodger

Imogene never got her chance to thank Lady Maccon.

Fortunately, when the articles of indenture arrived by aetherogram, Madame Lefoux said an X would do for a signature. Thus everything became legally binding seamlessly. The vampires couldn’t complain; they had written the law to make it easy in the first place.

It heralded a glorious new life for Imogene, that of laboratory assistant and, Madame Lefoux insisted on adding, chief finder of the elusive x.

Imogene took to the equations with renewed vigor and learned the names of all Madame Lefoux’s tools, and those of the engines and engine parts. She took over shoveling coal and keeping the burners at exactly the correct temperature.

Lady Maccon sent along a half-dozen durable working dresses (from London!) and Madame Lefoux found Imogene a spare leather apron. Imogene need never again dress as a parlourmaid. (Unless Madame Lefoux really did have a thing for little black dresses?) She kept one service outfit, just in case, and passed the rest on to her family, whose circumstances were also improved by her new position. Lady Maccon was more than generous with Imogene’s salary, and with the inventor providing meals, she needed very little. Madame Lefoux even tentatively offered to order Imogene some trousers, but Imogene felt that would be taking things too far.

Already she must avoid all contact with Henry and the other members of staff. Most of them felt she had betrayed them. The rest felt she was reaching above her station. Trousers might tip everyone into madness. Trousers were a powerful weapon of chaos, if Madame Lefoux was anything to go by.

Imogene took tea and luncheon via tray in the shed alongside her inventor, but for the evening meal, she still must join the servants, butler presiding. The butler clearly believed she was getting above herself. Thus, he overlooked any pettiness at table with regards to food dropped on Imogene’s new dress, or not passing the butter, or what have you.

But that was only one of two blights on Imogene’s otherwise idyllic new life as laboratory assistant (and chief finder of the elusive x). The other blight was Madame Lefoux herself.

Imogene tried several more times to encourage the inventor’s physical interest, but her tentative touches and expressions of affection were rebuffed. She garnered the occasional dimpled smile and sometimes (perhaps it was wishful thinking) a quick, hungry green-eyed glance, but nothing more. She was at a loss how to convince Madame Lefoux that her affection was genuine without it being misconstrued as gratitude. Not that she wasn’t grateful. She loved the assistant job. She always found the x no matter how elusive. She was far better at it than she ever had been as a parlourmaid. (And frankly, she’d been a good parlourmaid, which made her an excellent laboratory assistant. And the x? The x is mine!)

How to tell the inventor that it wasn’t gratitude leaving Imogene aching and restless each night? (Nor was it coal shoveling – not that kind of ache.

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