Page 42 of To Wed an Heiress
His smile startled her.
“Very well,” he said. “I’m in your debt, Mercy. Connor does not swim as well as you.”
“That’s something that should be rectified, especially since you live on the edge of a lake.”
“Yet he’s in no danger of falling in.”
“Unless you take another tumble. Is there somewhere else you could fly your machines?”
“Nowhere where the wind is as strong,” he said.
When she didn’t respond he continued. “I’m not taking that many chances, Mercy. I calculate everything, from the angle of the wings to the rotation of the upper sails. I know exactly where I’m going to land with relative assuredness of my velocity.”
“Yet something went terribly wrong today.”
He nodded. “Which is why it’s a shame that I won’t be able to recover all of the pieces. Without them, I can only guess at the problem.”
“I would think that a man skilled in trying to save the lives of other people would have more care about his own.”
“You’ve been talking to Irene, haven’t you?”
“She’s at Macrory House quite often,” she said.
“Sometimes I think she would be happier working there than here.”
“You’re wrong about that. She talks about you a great deal. How smart you are. How clever. About all of your inventions.”
He looked away.
“Have I embarrassed you?”
“It’s my turn to ask. Are you as direct with everyone?”
She took a moment to honestly consider his question. “I don’t think so. You’re very easy to talk to, which is surprising given our first meeting.”
“I was exceedingly cordial, as I recall.”
“Until you learned about my mother’s family,” she countered. “Then you couldn’t get me out of your castle fast enough. Have you changed your mind about me?”
He turned his head slowly, regarding her like he must stare at his airship, with an eye to changing it or improving it in some way.
“I owe you thanks for saving my life.”
“I believe you were right in that you would have extricated yourself soon enough.”
“Hopefully before I drowned.”
He stood and walked to the cupboard, pulled out another bottle before retrieving two glasses and returning to her side.
“That one is for medicine,” he said, nodding at the bottle of whiskey on the table. “This one is for drinking.”
He poured a few inches into each glass and handed her one.
She debated drinking it or choosing the more prudent course, refusing with a smile.
When she hesitated, he dragged two chairs in front of the fire and invited her to sit next to him.
“I was wrong to ask if you were spoiled.”
