Scarlet Devices Read Free Page B

“rose pavilion,” Matthew took the outstretched hands that Lady Hardison offered, placing a kiss on the back of each.
    â€œEnough of that,” stated her husband firmly.
    Matthew gave up the lady’s hands with a show of terror, then clasped Dexter Hardison’s in friendship.
    â€œFelicitations on your birthday, sir. Charlotte, you’re looking even more radiant than usual.”
    â€œI’m all a-dew,” Lady Hardison said wryly. She was noticeably pregnant, and this would likely be her last major social appearance before her confinement.
    â€œHas Smith-Grenville found you yet?” Dexter asked. “He says he has a bone to pick with you.”
    Matthew shook his head. “I just arrived. I came in shortly after Eliza. Actually I tried to come to her aid on the roadside, but it seems—”
    â€œShe didn’t require any assistance,” the lady in question spoke up from behind him. “I’m so sorry to have thwarted your philanthropic effort, Matthew. Dexter, happy birthday!”
    Eliza stepped around Matthew as she spoke, and while she stretched up to give her cousin a hug, Matthew tried to gather his scattered wits. This couldn’t be the same girl. He’d just seen her, barely an hour ago. She’d looked the same as ever then, still the child he remembered, a skinny wisp of a thing in a ridiculously oversized driving coat, hair in a plait sticking out from the back of her helmet, bits of it escaping here and there, a light sweat on her brow from the steam of the engine and freckles all over the bridge of her nose. He’d been quite sure the freckles were still there an hour ago.
    Stunning
, he thought, as she pulled away from Dexter and embraced Charlotte, the older woman’s rounded belly making it a bit awkward for them both.
    Eliza Hardison had swept her inky hair into a loose bun arrangement and changed into a white, floating, garden-party sort of dress with a jade green satin bow just below her modest but remarkably well-formed—
when the hell did that happen?
—bosom. The fabric flowed down, the drape broken only by the sweet curve—
dear God, made for a man’s hands
—of her hips. Her skin was almost as pale as the gauzy fabric, and nary a freckle in sight. Not that he managed to keep his gaze in the vicinity of her nose for long.
    He pressed a finger to his upper lip, surprised to feel perspiration breaking out there. He couldn’t decide whether to thank or curse the gods of fashion who had decided the bustle needed to make itself disappear again this season.
    â€œEliza, is the velocimobile giving you trouble again?” Dexter twitted her. “You know if you would only agree to a test drive, I’d give you such a pretty steam car, you can’t imagine. And a wee airship to match.”
    â€œThat’s more than just a test drive, cousin. I’m sorry, I realize I’m the smallest person you know after Charlotte, but you’ll simply have to find another replacement. Either that or convince the rally committee to postpone their race until Lady Hardison is out of confinement and back in flying form.”
    Dexter laughed, turning to bring Matthew back into the conversation. “While you were off in the city, I concocted a scheme to convince Eliza to take Charlotte’s place in the Sky and Steam Rally. But she insists she’s not the Hardison for the job. Her aspirations are too lofty, I think. Our little bluestocking social reformer, remember?”
    Matthew smiled dutifully, trying to remember. Had Eliza been a bluestocking back then, even before she went away to pursue her studies at Vassar? He supposed so, but mostly he remembered his constant fear that she would lose a limb to some whirring fan blade or get her hair caught in a flywheel, and the attendant concern that Dexter would then kill Matthew for letting his cousin be maimed on his watch. Or at the very least dismiss him from