“No, not you. You never judge. It’s both naïve and sweet. And likely to get you into trouble. If this dalliance gets out, others will judge you. Unmarried lady aristocrats aren’t supposed to dally. Not with common engineers, even famous inventor-type common engineers. He’s one step up from an artist.”
“That’s part of the fun.”
“Does your mother know?”
“Yes, curse it. Oh, Primrose, it was beastly. She gave me a lecture – on tiny sponge hats and vinegary measures a lady takes to prevent being inconvenienced.”
Prim’s face went pale and her mouth softened in sympathy. “Oh, Rue, how awful for you.”
“It was quite the most unpleasant thing ever.”
After everyone else had gone to bed, Rue received Quesnel at the door to the captain’s quarters wearing the pretty silk robe that she’d conveniently forgotten to return to Tasherit.
Quesnel was delighted. “You noticed how much I liked it?”
She nodded, nervous. “I thought that it would make things easier.” And give me a little control over the situation.
Rue wasn’t even aware she had linked her hands together until Quesnel placed his palm gently on top of them.
“Chérie, I wish to be very clear with you. This is not a rejection. I absolutely adore that robe. You are shaped in every way exactly as a woman ought to be shaped and someday soon I will strip it off you and convince you of this fact. But not now.”
Rue felt the hot blush of shame. What was she doing, chucking herself at him like some wanton street hussy?
“No,” he said, “stop it. What did I just say? This is nothing to do with you. It is my control I’m concerned about as you are inexperienced. This must be good for you. I have to make it good for you.” He shook his head.
He is nervous, too? How adorable. Rue gave him a little nudge with her shoulder.
“I don’t want to skip too far ahead. You cannot be expected to speak French in full sentences, having only learned a few words.”
Rue took a shallow breath. “That does make sense. Nothing of an intrusive nature right away?” She gave his trousers a suggestive glance.
Quesnel chuckled, but not in a nasty way. “Shall we leave that for a week so you don’t fret overmuch?”
Rue was both disappointed and profoundly relieved. “Oh, that would be nice. Not that I am rejecting you!” She wanted to take equal care of his feelings. “And I don’t wish to restrict spontaneity, but I should like…”
“A reprieve from the unknown? Don’t wind yourself up about it. And to that end, I have something for you.”
“A book? How thoughtful.” How mundane. It was something Percy would do, and so out of character. She glared at the volume in confusion. It was a plain cloth thing, dark green in colour, not very big. It was certainly something she could read quickly. It looked to include a number of etchings – they darkened the edges of near half the leaves.
“That book is your first lesson. I would like you to read it, chérie. Mark the bits you like and the ones that confuse you, and we are going to talk about it. Really talk. Teasing talk, of course, that seems easiest for us, but I want you to read and ask questions. Please?”
She went to flip it open.
“Not in the hallway, mon petite chou. I bid you good night.”
“Don’t I even get a kiss?”
“Not in that robe you don’t, far too dangerous.”
Rue giggled. He really did like it. And her. He liked the way she looked, curves and odd tawny eyes, and all.
“Enjoy the book. Pleasant dreams.”
Rue couldn’t deny a pang as she closed the door. Primrose was right to accuse her of all too readily charging into the unknown. Even when heading into the aetherosphere, one charted currents and followed a course. Perhaps that’s what this volume was meant to be – a travel guide.
She flipped it open.
“Oh dear me,” said Rue into the silence of her empty quarters.
It was a very informative evening, as it turned out.
NINE
In Which Freckles Go on the Rampage
They arrived in Egypt before Quesnel’s week’s delay was over. Not that Quesnel avoided Rue. One morning, after days of increased teasing, he finally followed her into her quarters once everyone else was abed and declared it kisses time – no tongue, no hands.
Rue discovered she enjoyed having her neck kissed. And lower down. Quesnel clearly felt the same. They stopped at the waist but the book had reliably informed her that they could keep going. Since Quesnel had indicated he would welcome questions, she asked him about that.
He said he’d show her but that it would be necessary for the next lesson to be slightly delayed. He’d require twenty minutes in his own quarters first, and then they could proceed without, as he put it, containment problems. After the book, Rue had a tolerably good idea what he meant.
The next session, twenty minutes later than normal, they worked on kissing further.
It was about the best wheeze Rue had ever enjoyed, which she told Quesnel, because he ought to know these things, too. He was flustered by her praise.
He slid back from her. They were sitting on the bed. Not under the covers. He had declared that, unless they were cold, lessons were better conducted with the gas on low, grey light filtering in through the porthole, and everything out in the open – for the sake of a superior education.
Rue was still fully dressed, although she had opted for a tea-gown: better ease of access. Quesnel was stripped down to his trousers, because, as he explained, he was prepared for her to do most of the kissing this evening.