Miss Minnie and the Brass Pluggit Read online

  She blinked and soundlessly moved inside, easing the door shut behind her, biting her lip against making a sound.

  “Come on in, Minnie.”

  She jumped at least a foot off the floor.

  “Dear God, you scared the damn life out of me.” She clutched her heart in that classic gesture of one surprised to the point of collapse.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” He looked smug.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Clearly I wasn’t the only one.”

  “That’ll teach us to exchange kisses and not follow through.” He simply wasn’t strong enough to resist teasing her. “Are you here to tell me you’d like me in your bed?”

  She snorted. “No.”

  “Liar.”

  Her lips twitched and she shook her head against a laugh, her chestnut hair springing every which way and almost floating around her head. “I’m here because I felt a vibration, a kind of hum. And because I think there’s a buildup of static electricity in my room, since my nightgown decided to crawl all over my skin.”

  “Dammit.” Pierce swore softly and ran a hand through his hair. He was still dressed, although his shirt now fell loosely around his hips since he’d pulled it free of his trousers when he’d come down to the laboratory. “I apologize, Minnie. I have a damping system in place, but it’s not always as effective as it should be. I am sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She was distracted by what she saw. “I’d like to know what the hell this is.”

  This was a part of his work he hadn’t exactly mentioned to Minnie. To be honest, there was no exactly about it. He had kept silent about it, deliberately. He did not want it getting back to Parliament. It had been insanely stupid of him to fire it up tonight, with her sleeping right above the laboratory.

  Stupid to use it at all when guests were present. But he’d not been thinking as clearly as he should have been and was driven by the need to get his mind out of his trousers and into something useful.

  Not Minnie.

  So he shouldn’t have been surprised when the doorknob moved and she crept in like a thief in the night. And truthfully, part of him wasn’t. The part that wondered if he’d obeyed a subconscious urge to draw her back down to him, to finish what they’d started.

  However, it seemed her thoughts were now well away from any kind of physical union and focused entirely on his illuminated console.

  He sighed. He couldn’t explain this away with facile or glib scientific terms. She might not understand the theory or the circuitry, but she would understand the implications. He walked to her side, put down the brandy snifter he’d just refilled and pulled out his chair, motioning to her to sit.

  “You might as well get comfortable.”

  “This is…” She reached out and touched glass. “Intriguing.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “It’s also complex, experimental, unfinished and quite confidential. You are only the second person to have seen it in operation. Dusk was the first. I am going to ask of you what I asked of him. Please do not relate to anyone else what you’re seeing now or what I’m about to tell you.”

  She glanced up at him and gave him a look of disdain. “I have kept more secrets than you’ve had bottles of brandy. Please don’t give my discretion a second thought.”

  “I had to ask.” He refused to be apologetic. She didn’t yet comprehend what she was looking at. “Let’s see if I can explain this.” He pulled up a small stool and sat beside her, their shoulders almost touching.

  It seemed oddly right.

  “What am I looking at?”

  She was seated in front of the console. The desk surface featured a few dials and switches and the occasional knob. But it was the glass surface on the wall above the desk that had all her attention. He kept it enclosed by two unobtrusive cabinet doors, which explained why she hadn’t seen it earlier in the day. It was mostly black, framed in brass and wood. But on it things were moving. More like a shallow box mounted upright than a mirror or a picture, this device was flickering, rippling with green strands making their way from the top to the bottom.

  “You are looking at a representation of the coastline and the waters off shore. I think the distance is currently set at half a mile.”

  She blinked. “I can’t… I don’t…”

  He leaned forward and pointed. “Here. This odd jagged shape? That’s the Needles rocks. Here’s the actual coastline.” He touched a glowing line that wiggled its way across the bottom of the screen and stopped sharply. “And this is the sea.”

  “And these?” She pointed to a few small dots in the sea area he’d just indicated.

  “Those are ships.”

  “Good Lord.”

  “Yes.” He waited, knowing her intuitive intellect would be processing this information and drawing an assortment of conclusions about now.

  She drew in a breath, a movement that did interesting things to the front of her dressing gown. Pierce, of course, made a point of not noticing the rise and fall of soft breasts, loose and free beneath the fragile fabric. Nor did he specifically notice the small buds poking firmly from the silk. He never, for one moment, imagined sucking them or tonguing them.

  No. He was a scientist in his laboratory. He was focused on his work.

  Not Minnie’s breasts.

  And he was lying through his teeth.

  “So I’m looking at a sort of map, more like a photograph I suppose, of what is out there on the ocean right this minute?”

  He smiled. She was as good as he’d guessed. “Yes. Exactly.”

  “Well.” She leaned back in the chair. “This has some pretty exciting potential, doesn’t it?”

  “It does.” He glanced down at her face, highlighted by the unearthly green glow from the console screen. “It also has some dangerous ones.”

  She nodded, her expression sobering. “God forbid Whitehall should hear of this. They’d be down here and all over you like ants on honey.”

  “Exactly.” He stretched his spine. “Now you see why I asked for your word about the secrecy of this project.”

  “I do, and to reiterate, you have it. Should anyone with military associations learn of this, they’d want one for every port, every vessel, every aerodrome…” She paused for a second or two. “Does this work above ground? For airships maybe?”

  “I don’t know. Haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” He rubbed his eyebrow absently as he thought. “I’ve had no chance to experiment in that area. The equipment itself is large and extensive, so obviously this device wouldn’t be practical, but it could be downsized, I suppose, if the range were reduced…”

  “Never mind. Just an idle question.” Minnie turned back to the green images. “So why did you turn it on? What are you looking for?”

  He scooted the stool close to her and leaned over, twisting a dial and moving the focus to the offshore area. “I wanted to check something.”

  They were close enough he could hear her clothing rustle as she nodded.

  “Our poor victim washed up here.” He pointed to a spot very near to the inlet where the Brass Pluggit was located. “So, given the prevailing currents, I’m guessing she was put into the water somewhere around here. The weather’s been calm, no storms to shift things around, so odds are pretty good this is the way she drifted.”

  He pointed to an area about a quarter of a mile away from the coast. Yes, she could have been dropped a long way away and still ended up at the bottom of their cliffs, but—not to put too fine a point on it—she would have been in much worse shape. Not that he’d go into that topic with Minnie, but he had a sneaking suspicion she’d come to that realization herself.

  “So you’re checking to see which ships are in the area?”

  He nodded. “Yes. And I’m correlating that information with the records I pulled up from the first three incidents. I never thought to look for ships back then, but now I do. I have my observations from the victim prior to this one. It might be a place to start.”

  “I’m impressed.”
She threw him a quick glance then returned her attention to the screen. “It’s a really wonderful idea. Wait…what’s this?” She pointed to a small indentation in the otherwise fairly regular dips of the coastline. “That doesn’t look natural to me…”

  He dipped his head for a closer look. “You’re right. It’s not. That’s the beginnings of the new Godolphin airfield. They’ve cut away some cliffs and opened up a small chine so that they can ship in their supplies rather than trek them overland, then over Southampton Water, then overland again. Makes sense economically and I hear it’s also quite efficient time-wise.”

  “And how far is it from here? I can’t gauge distances very well on this…”

  “It’s about a mile away from the other side of Stanley Fotheringay’s manor. Sometimes we can hear an explosion as they excavate—Stanley waxes eloquent about the nuisance factor—but recently it’s been pretty quiet. I suppose they’ve reached the construction phase. More building than blowing up.”

  “So their shipping would be shown on your…what do you call it?”

  “Haven’t named it yet. Green light works for me at the moment. And yes, my green light shows the Godolphin ships as well as any others.”

  “How do you know which ship is which?”

  “You can’t distinguish them from this.” He waved at the screen. “But if you have this…” With a magician’s flair he produced a sheaf of papers. “The maritime records of incoming and outgoing vessels.”

  “Aha.” She chuckled. “The key to your green light.”

  “Indeed.”

  Minnie stifled a yawn. “Have you correlated anything interesting yet?”

  He stood, pushing the stool back under the far end of the desk and putting the papers down, automatically resting a large brass octopus on top of them as a paperweight. “Not yet. I thought perhaps we could try doing that together. Tomorrow.”

  He placed a strong emphasis on the last word. “It’s very late. We’re both tired, we’re both edgy because of that kiss earlier…” He allowed himself the luxury of reaching out and touching her arm as she stood. “I’m not thinking as clearly as I should. I want you, Minnie, and you know it. I think you want me too. But now is not the time and we both know that as well. So please, go to bed. I don’t have much energy left in me at the moment. I might do something we’ll both regret if you don’t.”

  They looked at each other for a long moment, then she turned away. “Good night.”

  And she was gone.

  Amazingly enough, she did actually manage to sleep, waking only as the sun crept through the window and an annoying bird decided to function as an alarm, chirping a repetitively dull song until Minnie was ready to take his beak and stick it somewhere he wouldn’t like, thus rendering him mute.

  Refreshed in spite of her late night, she took a few moments to explore her quarters in the daylight, enjoying the cleverly built-in cabinetry and how it utilized the curves of the room rather than avoiding them. The front might look quite ordinary—dark polished wood doors with the requisite handles—but when opened, both drawers and cupboards were slightly curved. It was well designed and very functional.

  Her clothes, such as they were, had been hung up in the wardrobe. She was well used to taking care of herself and could rinse out her small delicacies when necessary.

  It appeared that she would be able to do just that. Opening a door in the wall, she gasped in delight. A completely and thoroughly equipped bath chamber greeted her astonished gaze.

  Glass and wood had been used most effectively, along with delicate blue porcelain, echoing the colors of the sea on a summer day. The tub looked like a garden pool, since several plants had been strategically placed on a high windowsill and allowed to trail their fronds over the soft white wall. There was even one of the newest features—a shower attachment. Just now reaching public acceptance, this new device allowed the bather to stand and be doused by water rather than sit in it and scrub.

  Minnie had had one installed in her London apartments as soon as she’d heard about it. She loved it and hoped Pierce’s was as efficient.

  The vanity and commode were also blue, the tank above was wood and there was a little ocean scene painted lovingly on the china handle of the chain. Even flushing had become an artistic experience, it seemed.

  She grinned. What would they think of next?

  There were towels aplenty—Pierce was a thoughtful host indeed—and Minnie emerged from her rooms an hour or so later, much refreshed and ready to face the day. The scent of food drew her to the large circular room above.

  “Good morning, Miss Minnie. Tea?”

  “Oh yes please, Dusk.”

  He picked up the teapot and ushered her to a small table by the window. “Dr. Lowell will be with you shortly. There’s toast, eggs, whatever you’d like. Please help yourself.” He poured her tea.

  “Lovely.” Minnie’s mouth watered.

  “There’s a copy of the paper if you’re interested. Sadly, it’s yesterday’s. Dr. Lowell hasn’t worked out a way to get today’s paper here yet.” Dusk smiled.

  Minnie chuckled back. “Give him time.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Good morning, Minnie.” The man himself strode in, holding papers in his hand. “Your Mrs. Armitage will be here on the noon ferry.” He waved a page. “And I apologize, but I have yet to manage any kind of privacy for telegraph messages. If the recipient isn’t sitting right there when it comes in…”

  Minnie waved away his apologies, reaching for the page. “I understand. I’m just glad to know she’s on the way. I wasn’t sure she could come so quickly, but it seems she was quite eager.”

  “The carriage will be ready at half-past eleven, Doctor.” Dusk had paused by the door. “Will that be acceptable?”

  Pierce nodded. “I think that should do it. There’s always some delay in the ferry, so that’ll give us time to do what’s necessary.”

  Dusk left as Minnie buttered a piece of toast.

  Pierce took another chair at the table, set his papers down and poured himself tea. It was quiet, neither feeling the need to speak at that moment. It was all quite domestic, really.

  She found herself unusually comfortable with him. Speaking or not speaking—it didn’t matter. There was no need to fill the quiet with mundane words or empty chatter. The awareness was there, without a doubt. She knew if she looked at him and met his gaze, there would be more than just the social intercourse between them. More than a simple glance from a man to a woman.

  There would be banked fire, sparks and—danger. Of the very best kind.

  She sighed and finished her toast. First things first. “Do you have a map handy?”

  “Pardon?” He looked up over the paper he’d been idly perusing.

  “A map. Of this part of the Isle of Wight. I need to get a better feel for our location…if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.” He stood and walked over to a small desk where he rummaged in a drawer and eventually produced a rather crumpled map. “I have a larger one in the laboratory, but it’s pinned to a sheet of wood. Not very portable, I’m afraid.”

  Minnie brushed that aside. “This is perfect. Thank you.” She spread the document out, moving the dishes out of the way.

  “Looking for anything in particular?” He reached for a plate and grabbed a rasher of bacon, munching it with obvious enjoyment.

  “Not really.” She pored over it. “I need to know where we are, how the rest of the coast looks and where that ship was last night. I think I’ll be able to get a better idea from this old-fashioned map. Your green light thingy isn’t the easiest to read.”

  He chuckled. “I agree.” He leaned over her shoulder and she could have sworn she heard him sniff her hair. “We’re here.” His finger descended on an inlet and tapped. “Here’s the Pluggit, and the two small cliffs either side.”

  She cleared her throat. “Whoever built this had a rather warped sense of humor, didn’t he?”

  “Yes
.” He grinned, but let it go. “Here’s where Stanley Fotheringay lives. No beach front or access at all. He likes the view but not the water, so he seems very content living on top of the cliffs.”

  Pierce’s finger was resting on a point not that far away from the Pluggit, and Minnie could see from the topographical lines that Fotheringay’s manor lay in a small dip. It was probably protected reasonably well unless the winds were coming in from the south-west.

  “And the site of the new aerodrome?”

  “That would be here.” The long finger tapped farther down the coast. There was a slight indentation in the coastline. “This map is now out of date, of course, since Godolphin has widened the chine, as I think I mentioned. You can sail inland for several hundred yards.”

  “They have a dock there, I suppose?”

  “I couldn’t say. It’s been a while since I took a look.”

  Minnie leaned back in her chair and studied the map again. “I’m getting a feeling that we should take a new look at the Godolphin facility.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “No. Just a vaguely unsettled sort of itch.”

  “That would be somewhere around the area of your feminine intuition?”

  She threw him a suspicious glance. “Would you be making fun of feminine intuition?”

  “Good Lord. Me? No. Absolutely not. Firmly believe in it. Yes, ma’am. Firmly.” He nodded. “Never let it be said I had any doubts about the validity of such a thing.”

  “Well that’s good.”

  “Of course, if there’s anything else itching that you’d like some help with…”

  “Oh be quiet.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chapter Five

  Felicia Armitage walked carefully down the gangplank on the arm of a sturdy young sailor and heaved a sigh of relief when the ground ceased to move beneath her feet. “Thank you, lad.”