Rust and Steam: Elemental Web Stories, #3

Chapter One

The Great Northern Railway

Scotland, August 1884

Y ou proposed to Lady Delphinia? His sister Clara gaped at him across a table covered with finely woven linen. Her fingers twitched and, for a moment, he thought she’d pitch her dinner roll at his forehead, but the bone china, glittering crystal and gleaming silver—all of it cast in a brilliant blue-white light from the Lucifer lamps affixed to the wood-paneled walls of the restaurant car—made her mind hard-won manners. Not to mention the upper-class passengers who shared the restaurant car as the steam train rattled and clacked its way at impressive speeds toward London while steambots rolled to and fro attending the gastronomical whims of the wealthy. Why?

Technically, he’d only spoken with the lady’s father, who was even now giving Mr. Benjamin Leighton’s offer all due consideration. Which meant the man was conflicted. Did he follow the traditions of generations? Or succumb to the temptations of allowing his daughter to marry a wealthy, upstart entrepreneur? Ben rather suspected Lady Delphinia’s modest dowry would tip the decision in his favor.

For the usual reasons. He refused to admit that the idea of binding himself to a woman with no chin bothered him. She was sweet and kind and the daughter of a gentleman. Certainly, there were other women interested in his wealth but, of late, Ben had lost all interest in the pursuit. The ton was correct. Better not to engage one’s heart in the matter of marriage. I require a wife.

Of good breeding and societal standing. Clara’s lips twisted as she parroted back words he’d spoken at the beginning of the London Season. But Lady Delphinia is so very… very…

Ben narrowed his eyes, warning her he’d not condone any disparaging comments.

Meek, Clara settled on with a resigned sigh. "You truly mean to go through with this? You’ve no need of the haut ton and all their nonsense. Or a wife for that matter."

He lifted an eyebrow. His sister knew as well as he did that the fastest way into society’s inner circles was through marriage. If he wanted to grow his business⁠—

We have enough. At least choose someone with a personality. Leaning on her elbows—with a glint in her eyes that told him her unrefined behavior was quite deliberate—Clara lowered her voice. Whatever happened? You spent the entire Season panting after Lady Alice Hemsworth and now the two of you occupy the same train carriage, frostily pretending that the other is not present.

Her words were a blast furnace. Heat shot through him, threatening imminent spontaneous combustion and welding every joint in place. He couldn’t move. She’s here? His voice—a scalded strangle—betrayed him.

You didn’t realize? With a snort of laughter, his sister began to rise. I’ll just go⁠—

He slammed his foot down upon the hem of her skirts and growled, Don’t you dare.

Only Clara would dare to tweak his nose so. They’d grown up side by side, motherless and beneath the thumb of a man who couldn’t be counted upon to bring home weekly wages. Food and coal were never a given. Tired of numb fingers and rumbling stomachs, they’d set out to provide for themselves. Clara had swept floors in a milliner’s, quietly absorbing tricks of the trade, while Ben ran with the gypsy children on Clockwork Corridor, hunting for stray scraps of metal that their parents fashioned into mechanical art.

But those days were well behind them now. Lady Alice was one of the few who knew any details of his past. During a stroll in Hyde park, she’d confessed to an interest in clockwork mechanisms and asked how he’d built the Leighton Carriage Company—cornering the market on luxury steam carriages in London—and he’d cracked open his soul, confiding a few carefully concealed facts about his upbringing. As he’d spoken, she’d wrapped her arm about his and drawn him close.

He’d counted himself a lucky man to have found such a woman. Until she’d coldly cut him from her life.

But— Clara pressed.

Don’t. He spoke through gritted teeth.

Still,