Moriarty Meets His Match: A Professor & Mrs. Moriarty Mystery (The Professor & Mrs. Moriarty Mystery Series Book 1) Read Free Page B

and into the booth. Terror rose again when she realized they were heading toward the table where steam still spewed from the hissing engine.
    She screamed, “No! Not this way!”
    Professor Moriarty set her on her feet behind the table and pulled her into his chest, wrapping both arms around her, sheltering her. His deep voice murmured into her ear in a soothing cadence. “The steam has found its outlet. It will soon exhaust itself. The danger now is from the mob out there. We are quite safe here. I will keep you safe.”
    She buried her face in his jacket. The fine wool held the homely, masculine scent of cigar smoke. She inhaled deeply, and her heart began to recover a steady rhythm. She lifted her face and smelled Pears soap on his clean-shaven chin. She almost kissed that chin in pure gratitude. She made a small sound from the sheer relief of standing with a strong man’s arms snugged around her while the world fell apart.
    He looked down at her, his brown eyes warm with concern. “Are you hurt?”
    She shook her head. “Not at all. Thanks to you.” She suspected the flounces over her bustle had taken some damage, but that was nothing, too trivial to mention. Dresses could be repaired.
    “Good.” He nodded and patted her back. “Good, good.” Their embrace was clearly becoming awkward for him. She released him and stepped back a single pace, retaining a firm grip on his arm. This man was her only rock in a boiling maelstrom. She had no intention of letting him go.
    She risked a glance at the corridor where her party had stood awaiting the demonstration. All were gone, swept away by the crowd. The first panic had abated, but not the danger. People pressed against one another now in a slow-moving mass, panting and moaning, a human tide contained between the iron railings on either side of the corridor. Angelina hoped Lucy and the other ladies had been rescued by someone. Oscar Teaberry would throw them under the stampede to save himself, and neither Lord Nettlefield nor Reginald Benton would give others a thought in a time of crisis. Perhaps the secretaries had helped them.
    “Don’t look,” the professor said. “Turn the other way. Breathe slowly and think calm thoughts.”
    She obeyed him as meekly as a child, balancing on her low-heeled boots as if the planking of the floor might suddenly tilt, like the deck of a ship. She could feel the vibration of the mob through her thin leather soles.
    “Can you hold on to the table here?” The professor gently removed her hand from his arm and set it on the tabletop, as if guiding a blind woman.
    She shook her head and cried, “Don’t leave me!”
    “I won’t. I promise. But I need to check on the engineer.”
    “Oh.” She gripped the edge of the table and glanced toward the engine. Mr. Bruffin was huddled against the corner post of the booth, cradling his hands against his chest. They looked red and blistery and must hurt like the very devil. Beside him lay Lord Carling, whose — Dear God, the man’s face was half gone! Angelina flinched away with a short scream.
    “Don’t look.” The professor gathered her into his chest again. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you.” He patted her back again, less clumsily this time.
    She wanted him to stay with her, but the poor engineer needed him more. So she composed herself, drawing in a deep breath of his comforting scent. Then she nodded. “I’m all right. Help Mr. Bruffin. I’ll stand here and contemplate these lovely lamps.”
    “Good girl.” The professor released her, waiting a moment to be sure she could manage alone. Then he turned toward the men behind the engine and let out a grunt. He must be attending to Lord Carling.
    Angelina focused on the lamps. She’d never seen a glass bulb close up before. It looked almost like a work of art. Surely that delicate creation was too fragile to withstand a current of electrical power.
    A rip, a rattle, and a swish of air told her Moriarty had torn down a