His throat tightened again as the dryness of her tone sparked memories. Memories of how he used to seek out her company so eagerly, how he’d found her so enthralling. Ruthlessly, he cut off his reminiscences. Such memories were treacherous. Minerva had used him and betrayed him. That was all he needed to remember.
He rang for Cheeves and ordered tea. The last thing he wanted was to sit and take tea with Minerva Lambkin, but he had no choice, now that he’d glimpsed what was in that snuffbox.
“You should have gone to the police as soon as you received the letter,” he said abruptly. “Despite what the kidnapper told you.”
“And risked my father’s life? I couldn’t. Besides, I doubt they can act with the necessary swiftness.”
“Do you have any idea who the kidnapper might be?”
She lifted her shoulders and sighed. “Unfortunately, there are many people who might have a grudge against my father.”
Including himself. Asher felt his head tightening. He’d been a callow young man when he met Silas Lambkin. The son of a miller, Silas ran a prosperous engineering business and had patented several inventions. He was bluff, charming, and he exuded an air of boundless confidence and success. Asher, freshly graduated from Oxford and keen to make his mark, eagerly accepted Silas’s offer to be his apprentice. In Silas’s well-equipped workshop in Manchester, he would be able to perfect his pet project, so he had thought, and together they would reap the rewards. And once he’d met Minerva, he was keener than ever to throw in his lot with the Lambkins. More fool he.
“Why not start with the most obvious suspects?” he said. “The investors he duped into sinking their funds in his so-called millennium machine.”
“There are more than a dozen investors left, but three have the most to lose. These three have been coming to the house more frequently in the past few months and becoming more vociferous. The last time they called, Father ordered the maid not to answer the door, but they wouldn’t go away. I heard them shouting outside, and then one of them threw a brick through our parlor window.” She spoke quite calmly, but the muscles in his arm tensed.
“Who are these three investors?”
“Hempshaw, Grimlock and Crowe. I would say Grimlock is the most disgruntled and likely the brick thrower. He has a reputation for being violent and taking matters into his own hands.”
Cheeves arrived with the tea trolley. The butler had strayed beyond his prescribed duties and included a large plate of scones alongside the usual bread and butter. Asher raised his eyebrows. He never ate cake at teatime. Had his dour servant noticed the pallor of Asher’s visitor and taken it upon himself to provide extra sustenance? The butler withdrew without providing an explanation, causing Asher to shake his head. Despite his wealth and status, he kept only a small retinue of servants, and Cheeves combined the duties of butler, footman and valet. The man was punctilious, but sometimes too presumptuous.
He watched Minerva pour out the tea. Without prompting, she placed a single sugar cube and a lemon slice in his cup before passing it to him. So she still remembered how he liked his tea. The notion didn’t sit comfortably with him.
She ate three scones and downed two cups of tea. When she had finished, her color had almost returned to normal, but her expression remained troubled.
“I feel almost guilty for eating when my father is languishing somewhere, bruised and battered and frightened.”
“Minerva, what exactly did you hope to achieve by coming here?”
She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and squared her shoulders. “I was hoping you might have something that might pass for a millennium machine,” she said slowly, watching him warily. “I thought it might somehow fool the kidnapper enough to convince him to let my father go.”
“It’s a dangerous game you play.” He set aside his teacup. “The millennium machine is a complex piece of engineering. You can’t take any old brass box and throw in some magnets and coils and hope it will pass. The kidnapper will be suspicious of anything you give him. He’ll want solid proof it works. If he suspects you of trying to deceive him, there’s no knowing what he might do.” Judging by the contents of that snuffbox, this kidnapper was capable of the worst atrocities.
“I’m all too aware of that, which is why I haven’t attempted to make my own replica. I know I could trick up something, but it would never do. That’s why I’ve come to you for help. You know the workings of your machine better than anyone. I remember how hard you worked trying to solve its problems, how much effort you put in…”
She trailed off into silence. A spasm of pain twitched in his head, right between his eyebrows.
“I haven’t solved the problem,” he said more harshly than he had intended. “The dilemma of scaling up remains unsolved. What works at fractions of an inch doesn’t work at lengths of feet. At these proportions, the harnessing of the aethersphere becomes unstable, leading to heat exchange and loss of energy.”
“So you have been working on it?” She looked up, filled with hope.
Asher bit his tongue. Never would he admit to her how many hours he had slaved.
He shrugged. “I’ve dabbled in it on occasion, when I have some spare time, which is not often these days.”
“You’ve no wish to prove your theory correct?”
“The only theory I’ve proven is that men will do anything for money.”
Her face dimmed, and the corners of her mouth pulled down. “So my father stole more than just an invention from you. He stole your scientific fervor too.”
There was some truth to that, Asher thought. But no matter what Silas had taken from him, Minerva had stolen so much more. His parents had openly prayed that a suitable marriage would dampen his unnatural scientific proclivities, would bring him back into the fold, but he’d spurned all their matchmaking efforts. Had avoided all emotional entanglements, until he met Minerva. To her he’d offered his untried heart, convinced he’d found a woman who surpassed all his ideals, but he was disillusioned. She’d robbed him of his pride, his sense of manhood and even his secret dream of love everlasting, but he’d be damned if he let her see that.
He scowled at her. “Haven’t I demonstrated sufficient scientific fervor in saving the Irish potato crop?”
“True, but it doesn’t seem to be your driving passion. After all, you have time for hobbies, like Cerberus here.”
At the mention of his name, the dog lifted its head and swiveled it three hundred sixty degrees. Minerva gaped at it in astonishment.
“A small modification of mine,” Asher said. “An improvement on nature, you might say.”
The dog rotated its head again, and then again and again. It wouldn’t stop turning. The head spun faster and faster, accompanied by a whining noise that grew louder with each revolution. Puffs of smoke billowed out from the rivets around its neck.
“Cerberus?” Asher started to his feet.
The automaton let out a dismal squeak. Its red eyes dulled. Then with a sudden bang, its head popped off, leaving behind a mess of rubber tubing, and the rest of its body collapsed onto the floor.
Asher toed the pile of smoking metal bits. “Well. Perhaps not such an improvement after all.”
Minerva rose to her feet. “I won’t detain you any longer.” She began to pull on her gloves. “Thank you for seeing me.”
He spun around. “You’re leaving already?”
“I must, if I’m to make the night train back to Manchester.” Grimacing, she picked up the snuffbox gingerly and dropped it into her carpetbag.
“But what do you intend to do?”
For a moment despair and complete fatigue flitted across her face before she straightened her back. “I’ll return to my workshop and fashion my own millennium machine. I have a few parts that might do.”
“That’s utter madness—” he snapped, “—and you know it.”
“It’s my only choice, and you know it.”
“Don’t be a fool! This kidnapper is barbaric and vicious. Your life could be in danger.”
“My father’s life is most definitely in danger.” She glared back at him, her face flushed with emotion.
He fumed silently back at her, his nostrils flaring with each harsh breath. “Confound it, Minerva!” he finally exploded. “You know all too well I can’t allow you to go back to Manchester on your own.”
“Oh. I wasn’t aware I needed your permission.”
“I can’t let you risk your life.”
Snapping shut her carpetbag, she held it against her chest like a shield. Her eyes sparked as she seethed, “Let me assure you, I did not come here expecting you to rescue me. I’m not some helpless female, and I certainly don’t need anyone to be my nursemaid. I came here only to ask if you could make a replica of your millennium machine. That is all. Since you cannot, that is the end of the matter.” She drew herself up, her tone growing haughty. “Good day to you, Mr. Quigley.”
She moved to brush past him. Instinct made him swifter. He clamped his hand around her arm. She stiffened at his touch, and beneath his fingers, he felt a curious tremor running through her arm, transmitting to his bones.