Page 46 of This Earl of Mine

Harrison nodded. “Good morning, sir. A sailor, are you?”

“I’m afraid not. Ex-Rifles, actually. Currently working for Bow Street.” He withdrew the plans from the tube and handed them to the older man. “I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on these.”

Harrison swept a forearm across the counter to clear a space and unrolled the papers. His bushy white brows rose as he studied them. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

“They’re plans for a submersible craft,” Georgie offered. Wylde’s shoulder touched hers as he angled himself next to her on the counter, and she shivered in awareness. “Mr. Harrison, do you recognize this ship? Or any part of it?”

The old man bent closer. “Extraordinary,” he murmured.

Georgie smiled as she recognized the same awed reaction she herself had exhibited the previous day. She pointed at the mechanical workings of the submarine. “Do any of these particular parts look familiar to you? Has anyone ever asked you to make any of them?”

Harrison’s wrinkled face clouded as he searched his memory. “Now I think on it, yes. Yes.” He pointed at a larger, close-up section. “I made that particular series of taps and gauges for a gentleman a month or two ago.”

Georgie glanced at Wylde, scarcely able to hide her elation, but Harrison was still talking.

“I thought at the time it was an unusual commission, but he told me it was for some top secret Admiralty project. Some kind of weather-measuring device. It was for a submarine though, eh?” He wheezed a delighted chuckle. “How interesting.”

Wylde leaned forward. “Do you happen to recall the name of the person who commissioned that piece?”

Harrison glanced up reluctantly from the plans. “I canlook. It should be in my receipt book.” He bustled away into the back room, and Georgie turned to Wylde with a little bounce of excitement. He shook his head, a silent warning not to raise her hopes.

“Ah, here we are.” Harrison returned, holding a large, leather-bound ledger book. “It was ordered by a Mr. Johnstone. Paid for in cash.”

Georgie tried to keep the triumph off her face. “We’d be very interested to speak with this Mr. Johnstone. I don’t suppose he left an address?”

The old man drew his finger across the handwritten entry. “He did, as a matter of fact. I had a boy deliver an extra set of hinges to him at…” He squinted, trying to read his own handwriting. “White Lion Yard, off Ore Street in Limehouse.”

Georgie beamed. “That is wonderfully helpful, Mr. Harrison. Thank you so much.”

The inventor indicated the curling plans on the counter. “My pleasure. I don’t suppose I might keep these for a day or two, for a closer look?”

“I’m afraid we can’t allow you that courtesy, sir,” Wylde said apologetically. “The Admiralty wants them back with all haste.”

“Pity. I’d give my eyeteeth to meet the man who designed such a contraption.”

“That would be an American by the name of Robert Fulton,” Georgie said. “Unfortunately, he’s back in his homeland now.”

Harrison sighed. “Ah well. If I can be of any further assistance, do let me know. I always enjoyed working with your late father, God rest his soul, and I’m glad you’re following in his footsteps so admirably.”

Georgie blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Harrison, that means a great deal. I shall call on you again soon. Good day.”

Wylde rolled the plans and replaced them in the tube, and together they stepped back out onto the street. Georgie took a deep satisfied breath. “Well, that was a stroke of luck. I never dreamed we would be quite so successful.”

He shot her a condescending look. “Beginner’s luck.”

She punched him playfully on the arm. “Unkind, Mr. Wylde! Give credit where it’s due.”

He sighed theatrically. “Very well. You have been enormously helpful. Thank you.”

She accepted that with a jaunty smile. “My pleasure. Now, since Caversteed Shipping’s offices are just around that corner, how would you like to see my warehouse?”

Pieter, holding the head of the lead horse beside the carriage, rolled his eyes at her shameless attempt to prolong the outing, but Georgie ignored him.

Wylde offered her his bent arm. “I would be delighted.”

She shot Pieter a winning smile. “I do believe we’ll walk, Pieter, and I know you don’t like to keep the horses standing. Perhaps you can take them for a slow drive until we’re done? We shouldn’t be above half an hour.”

Pieter sent Wylde a frowning glare that clearly warned him to be on his best behavior or face dire consequences, and climbed reluctantly up onto the driver’s seat. “As you wish, miss.”

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