Page 39 of The English Duke
“No,” she said, approaching the workbench. She pulled out the stool and sat on it. “But Josephine has a greater interest in fashion than I do. I’m not surprised she packed more garments than she needed. We only planned to visit with you long enough to deliver my father’s bequest, then stay at an inn and return to Griffin House the next day.”
He sent her a sharp look. “How is your grandmother feeling?”
When she’d seen Gran this morning, she’d been sitting up in bed, eating her breakfast with a hearty appetite.
“Better. I don’t doubt we shall be leaving in a day or two.”
Why did that thought instantly alter her mood and not in a good way?
“I wasn’t arguing with you, by the way,” she said. “I don’t actually argue much. I’m normally amenable.”
“I think you’re wrong in your assessment of yourself, Martha. I think, perhaps, when you disagree with people you simply retreat into your own thoughts. Arguing is often a waste of time and I suspect you don’t spend a great deal of time on idiotic pursuits.”
Never before had anyone assumed a knowledge of her character. She didn’t know how to respond.
When she remained silent, he reached over and put something in front of her.
“What is wrong with that?” he asked. “Can you tell?”
“It’s part of a pendulum,” she said.
She picked it up and studied it, turning it back and forth in her hand. “It’s weighted differently.”
“That it is. Your father and I had discussed whether or not it would matter.”
She closed her eyes, the better to see the complex arrangement of gears, wires, and chains found in the guidance system. The pendulum was located in the middle, toward the rear.
Opening her eyes, she looked at him. “It would pull too far on the left rudder chain,” she said. “It might even cause the ship to be nose-heavy.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, merely studied her.
She wanted to ask if he really did object to the lavender dress. She had more freedom to move in this garment, but it wasn’t fashionable. Yet she didn’t want to have to worry about what she was wearing when it normally didn’t concern her.
“You’re an unusual woman,” he said.
She’d heard those words before, but they hadn’t been a compliment.
“Is it a bad thing? Are you saying I’m odd?”
He smiled again and although the expression didn’t look mocking, she held herself still, waiting for his words.
“You know a great deal about forming copper, pendulums and the like, and compressors.”
He reached out and grabbed her hand, turning it over to examine the palm.
“Your father told me about how you got this scar,” he said, tracing a small mark at the base of her thumb. “You were trying to force a piston back into place when it slipped.”
She pulled her hand free, embarrassed in a way she hadn’t been for a long time. Ever since her season in London, as a matter of fact.
It was him, of course. She’d never met a man who was so supremely male. She felt fluttery and feminine when she was nothing of the sort. Once she was dressed in the morning, it was the last time she concerned herself with her appearance. She didn’t stop in front of a mirror or worry about what she looked like.
Until she’d met him. Now she was all too aware of her flaws.
“I’m easily bored,” she said, giving him the truth. “I haven’t the slightest interest in fashion or how to arrange my hair. I detest shopping, except when it comes to material we need. It seems to me my time is better spent seeking sources of copper tubing and sheathing than in selecting hats and gloves.”
“And for that I thank you,” he said, startling her again. “I find you almost the perfect companion, Martha.”
She stared down at the pendulum, picked it up again, and concentrated on it even though she was more focused on the man beside her. A bright happiness flooded through her, making the shadowed boathouse seem sun-filled.
