Page 33 of Anything But a Duke
“Do ladies generally need freeing from their corsets?”
“Trust me, Mr. Iverson, you wouldn’t wish to sleep in one.”
Aidan’s mind tangled on the notion of sleeping and Miss Ashby, and suddenly his thoughts had nothing to do with corsets. Not much to do with sleeping either.
Rein it in, man.His visit today was a business matter. Nothing else. She’d invited him to consider her invention, not to get lost in thoughts that would scandalize her. She turned to face him, crossed her arms, and notched her chin up with a defiant tilt. “Not all ladies have maids to assist them. And there are times when a woman wishes to become unfettered quickly.”
He could only manage a nod.
“Do you think you might be able to sell them in your shop? I could take one in for a demonstration.”
“Is your pneumatic device ready? I’d be interested in seeing a demonstration of the repaired model of your machine.”
“Yes, Mr. Iverson.” Miss Ashby pursed her mouth, as if disappointed that he hadn’t jumped at the chance to feature her corset device in his shop. “It’s just through here.”
She pointed toward the cordoned off area she’d exited and they both stepped forward at the same time, their bodies colliding much as they had at Lyon’s. She reached out and gripped his arm for balance. Aidan laid his hand over hers.
For a moment neither of them moved. Aidan was intensely aware of the warmth of her skin, the rush of her breath, and the way his own pulse sped.
His gaze traced the shape of her lips, and an inappropriate question bloomed in his mind. Had she kissed anyone since the night they’d met?
Suddenly he wanted to know. Needed to know. But of course he had no right to know.
She removed her hand from his arm, and the slide of her skin against his did nothing to stem his wayward thoughts.
“Just this way,” she said quietly, and moved past him.
Inside the partitioned room, Aidan discovered that she had far more than a scale model. She had a full-sized device assembled on a long table.
“There’s a pumping mechanism that has to be primed to create pneumatic pressure.” She began adjusting the metal tubes of her machine and pointed to the end of the table. “Would you do the honors, Mr. Iverson?” She swiped a hand through the air. “You may wish to remove your coat. This can be dirty work.”
Aidan held her gaze as he slid his suit coat from his shoulders, laid it aside, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. “I’m at your service, Miss Ashby.”
She inhaled sharply and he watched her throat work as she swallowed hard. “Take that lever on top and pump. Vigorously.”
He did as she bid him and felt resistance as the mechanism primed.
Miss Ashby shocked him by taking a jar from the table and emptying what appeared to be dirt onto the tiled floor between them. His shock seemed to please her. She grinned and reached for the cylinder of her device, extending the tube and bending the interlocked metal tube so that it reached the ground.
A strand of hair slipped free of her braid and dangled across her forehead. She blew it aside rather than take her hands off the device.
“Flip that switch,” she commanded.
Aidan did and watched as the tube she held began to pull up dust from the floor. The speed and effectiveness were impressive, and by the time he heard the pressure wane, the black and white tiles of the conservatory were spotless.
Miss Ashby grinned in triumph, and her smile caused warmth to swell in his chest.
“Well done,” he told her, because her sense of victory was contagious. He found himself reveling in her success, and her smile.
Unfortunately, he still wasn’t sure he could sell enough of her cleaning machines to make a profit. Some might be taken in by the novelty of the design, but he couldn’t imagine most London housekeepers forgoing a simple brush and pan to pay for a device that required priming and pumping and disposal of whatever was collected.
“Are you impressed?” she asked as she turned off the pressure valve on the device and placed the long metal cylinder back on the table.
With her? Mightily. “The mechanism works just as you described.”
She dusted off her hands and came to stand in front of him. Close enough for him to see the darker lapis flecks in the bright blue of her eyes. Hopefulness radiated off her like an enticing warmth.
“Then you’ll fund my device, Mr. Iverson?” She leaned closer, vibrating with anticipation. “I promise you it will sell. People will take to this convenience and I foresee its usefulness in many situations—”
