Page 82 of Terms of Trade (Trade Wind 4)

Vassilis stood at the top of the stairs with his hands on his hips, waiting for everyone to gather before he spoke. Behind him was a metal-and-glass-paned arch five times his height, forming the grand entryway.

“Welcome to Palm House, the largest greenhouse in the world, and an engineering wonder!” His eyes swept the small group. “The Royal Commission must select the design of the building that will house the exhibition. Construction will begin in Hyde Park by year’s end, God willing. Today I ask you to consider whether such a building”—he raised his arms—“is fitting for the Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations!”

David Chadbourne raised an eyebrow. “I say, Vassilis, do you mean to tell us you’ve yet to form an opinion and are soliciting our counsel?”

The eldest Sideris lowered his hands, his mouth flattening—for just a moment. Then he grinned. “Allow me to begin again. Welcome, all, to Palm House! I challenge each of you to deny that this very marvel of a design isnotthe most fitting for the Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations!”

He laughed along with everyone else, especially after Pen’s observation. “Verily, Papa, to have told us that the place was ‘clearly modern.’ Haven’t you said before that puns are the lowest form of humor?”

Sirena shook her head. “He only believed that before his English was good enough to make them.” Everyone laughed again.

“No more wasting time on jests! I’ve arranged for Palm House to be closed to the public for the rest of today. We have two hours to tour the facility. Two Kew employees are at our disposal inside. Come!”

Helen sank her teeth into her tongue to stop laughing before she climbed the stairs and reached Vassilis, who held the door open. She thanked him and stepped in. Hot, humid air washed over her.

Palms, ofcourse!She smiled and felt foolish. So focused on the architecture and engineering she’d been, that she hadn’t paid heed to the building’s name. The green-colored glass had obscured all but the shadows of the contents of Palm House, which, as Vassilis had promised, was brimming with life.

Palm trees, ferns, and countless other types of tropical plants grew in pots in every direction. At once, the heat and moisture inside shrouded her and the others. Pen, Sirena, and Clara had entered with fans on their wrists, a testament to their being genuine ladies, and now had them open and fanning rapidly. Helen stood without one, her skin already dewy.

Everyone else turned down a path that led along the side of the long building, looking like a tunnel of lush greenery. Helen walked straight toward the center of the greenhouse, drawn by the white-enameled iron posts that ran all the way up to the ceiling.

“Thirty-foot ceilings in here,” a voice called out.

She searched the greenery until a uniformed man stepped out. “Edward Crothers, groundskeeper at your service.”

“Thank you, Mr. Crothers. Thirty feet in here. What about in the center?”

“Ooh, where are you from, madam? America?”

She stifled a sigh, reminding herself that the man sounded curious rather than condemnatory. “Yes.”

“The center is almost sixty-seven feet high, it is. Have you ever seen the like?”

“Never. Are those walkways up along the center?”

“Yes. Visitors can climb up and see the crowns of the palms from up there.”

I wish to inspect the metal trusswork from up there!

“The ironwork—it’s remarkable. What do you know of it?”

The man whistled, making Helen smile as her gaze followed the roofline supports to the wall. “Two hundred tons of iron, they say. Two architects designed the building, one being an ironmaster. An Irishman, Richard Turner.”

Helen smiled.Did you hear that, Mam?

“Why is the glass green, sir?”

“It provides shade for the trees and plants. They’re a display of the exotic flora that flourishes in the tropics of the British Empire. Don’t want them burning. They tinted the panes with copper oxide. Sixteen thousand panes!”

She posed questions about the heating of the place, and soon after learning about the twelve coal-fired boilers in the basement cellars, Nicholas joined her. The groundskeeper excused himself to answer questions from the Earl of Anterleigh, who had beckoned from near a large palm.

Helen smiled at Nicholas’s glowing skin. “I know it’s from the steamy heat, but it reminds me of how you looked that night in the rain.”

He made a sound of agreement in his throat, his gaze running along her temple. “Your hair is curling.”

She tried to smooth the tendrils, but they only sprang back under her hands. “Could an exhibition hall truly be designed and built based on a conservatory like this?”

Nicholas shrugged. “I believe it’s ambitious but feasible. Robertson was just pressing my father on the dimensions. Before Palm House, no one had used iron and glass for a construction of even this size—that’s why they borrowed the shape from shipbuilding.”

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