Authors: Gloria Harchar
Nicola
shook her head.
"
Don
'
t
try to stop me because I
'
m going home—
now.
"
Frantically, Glissando
waved his
arms. His breath came
in shallow gasps.
"
A
ye
… leave…
quickly
.
"
With a
frown, Allegro stared at him.
"
Whose side are you on?
"
Nicola
gave
Glissando a grim smile.
"
Ah,
then we are agreed about this.
"
"
Her side
.
"
Still gasping,
Glissando
lurched toward her nose, cau
sing her to hesitate once more. "But…
not home.
"
She gave him a questioning look.
"
Save
... cousin.
"
Her heart flopped at the thought of her beloved cousin and his shena
nigans.
"
Save him?
"
she asked, holding out her hand to help the little Caller
despite her feelings toward him
.
The tiny fellow was obviously struggling.
Glissando
plopped down on her proffered palm, holding his
chest, youthful-looking even through the lacy cravat
.
He took several deep breaths before
glancing
up at her with an earnest expression on his
piquant face.
"
At this
very
moment
your
cousin, Ramsey
Diderot
,
is headed for serious trouble.
"
Nicola
crept toward the darkened workhouse on the outskirts of town—a facility owned, ironically, by the very intimidating Earl of Falconwood—hoping against hope that she would arrive in time to stop Ramsey from doing something foolish.
That was, if he really did
drive
the
steam-powered
vehicle
to the workhouse
.
Or were the pixies leading her on a fool
'
s mission? True,
hers and Ramsey
'
s
motorized vehicle
had been gone from the Campbell
'
s residence
, so he must have taken it—where, she didn
'
t know
.
And where were the pesky pixies?
The pair had disappeared shortly after she
'
d hailed a hackney.
Clever Ramsey had come up wit
h the idea of building a
steam car.
Their old standardbred mare had died, and n
either of them wanted to spend money on a roustabout manufactured by Peabody & Co.
Neither did her father.
So
she and Ramsey
used what they could find in dumps, bought parts for items they couldn
'
t find, and built their own engine to pull the old horse-drawn carriage. Once finished, it had been her idea to
haul
t
he motor in the old wheel barrel, and use the barrel
to pull the carriage
. Ramsey fondly referred to it as the
barrel
about, and the name stuck.
Although society wouldn't allow her to claim the
dye
or that she had anything to do with the building of the barrelabout, she used both talents to her advantage when designing ladies' hats for her millinery. The
dye
was applied to the fabrics that adorned her hats.
Her trips with Ramsey to the dump was where she kept an
eye
out for gears, nuts, wire, old clock faces—anything that she could use in her designs.
Yes
, a
hat shop was something a lady could own
, and she had Ramsey to thank for being open-minded by welcoming her help in building the barrelabout
.
As if the thought
s
conjured up the vehicle
, she saw it
hidden in a copse of trees to her right. Her chest contracted as she realized the pixies told the truth. She crept closer to the building where Ramsey obviously
was about to commit his mischief.
Dampness from night dew seeped through her thin-soled evening shoes. She crouched and peered hard at the
wood siding that comprised the edifice
, the moo
nlight tracing the frame of a
window. It was high but not out of reach.
Dark stillness suffused the
workhouse
, indicating no late visitors. The light trill of a nearby nightingale mocked her. The wind whipped to life, whistling through the limbs of the surrounding copse of trees and making her shiver.
"
Hurry,
"
Allegro commanded close to her ear.
Startled, she fell back onto her rump with a cry, twigs stabbing through the delicate fabric of her dress. She gritted her teeth ag
ainst the piercing discomfort.
"
Would you quit snea
king up on me?
"
Allegro hovered nearby.
"
I
'
m no
t sneaking. You
'
re
simply not observant, no insult intended
. Now, hurry.
"
"
Wait a moment. How do you know I need to
hurry?
"
As she struggled to her feet, and brushed off her dress, a
thought suddenly occurred to her.
"
Your mission. Who is it?
"
The pixie turned and blinked at her
like a hoot owl
.
"
Who is who?
"
T
he urge to poke at him
nearly overwhelmed her
.
"
You know who I mean.
"
"
No
,
Miss
Diderot
-Moore
, I
'
m
sorry to say that I don
'
t.
"
Now Allegro was following Glissando's habit of calling her by two surnames.
She wished he would qu
it tacking on the Diderot
.
With a roll of her
eyes
, she said,
"
Who is it you
'
re supposed to match me with?
And don't insult me by repeating what Gl
issando said. Not under
any circumstance could I believe I'm to be matched with
Lieutenant
Tell
.
"
The pixie fluttered about as he rubbed the front of his waistcoat.
"
Well, now, let me see,
we were given the mission only two days ago an
d the details are still fuzzy but the name of the lucky fellow is right on the tip of my ton
—
"
A muffled sound of splintering wood came from the workhouse.
Allegro
'
s
eyes
widened at the noise
, and he began to fly circles above her head
.
"
Hurry
.
"
"
A
ye
,
be quick, Miss Diderot-Moore
,
"
Glissando agreed.
She realized his voice came from her reticule where it dangled at her side.
Glissando
'
s light glowed red through the opening secured by drawstrings.
"
No t
ime for chitchat, miss.
It
'
s almost too late!
"
Deep urgency filled her. How many times had she worried about Ramsey and his reckless ways? Ever since their mothers died
ye
ars ago in a carriage accident and Ramsey had come to live with her and her father
at the feisty age of
four
, she
'
d been pulling him out of one scrape after another
—her being the mature age of
nine
. Long ago she
'
d learned to
trust her instincts; she couldn
'
t ignore the tremors of warning now.
She pulled the drawstring wide and held the bag up toward Allegro.
"
Stay with
Glissando
. You
'
re too strange and
are bound to attract attention.
"