Steam & Sorcery by Cindy Spencer Pape Page A

this otherwise lovely home. The horde been here just a few days, Miss Hadrian’s letter had said.
    One of the youngest children, a thin boy of perhaps nine or ten, with straight, medium brown hair and a pallor that hinted at recent illness, skidded to a stop in front of Caroline and winked up at her. “I’m a bastard, you know.” He snatched a crumpet off the tray and flitted away, grinning wickedly.
    Caroline couldn’t help the smile that emerged through her mask of propriety. “I see.” She helped herself to a raspberry tart off her plate. Delicious . “As am I. How nice that we have something in common.” The noisy cluster all stopped and stared at her with wonder as she bit into the tart and chewed.
    After swallowing, she added, “However, most people would prefer us not to discuss such things with strangers. It makes them uncomfortable, you know, and the whole point of good manners is to avoid making people feel awkward.”
    “We don’t need no governess.” One of the girls rubbed her toe on the carpet and stared intently downward. Her dark hair and almond-shaped eyes hinted at an exotic heritage, though her Cockney accent was all London.
    “Of course you don’t.” Caroline found she was enjoying herself for the first time since she’d left the coach. These children were fun. It was a shame she couldn’t stay. Then her glance strayed over to a scowling Sir Merrick and the thrill of attraction she still felt reinforced her resolve. “And I shan’t be staying, so you needn’t worry. Perhaps, though, since I have been a governess, and I am here at the moment, I can help you understand the purpose of the species while we enjoy our tea?”
    “You talk funny.” The youngest boy, a tow-headed imp, had his arm in a sling. He stuffed a lemon tart into his face, all in one piece.
    “I probably do, sometimes.” Caroline saw the fear that lurked behind his pale gray eyes. These children were bold but terrified. It would be good to put their minds at ease before she went on her way—and she could have another bite or two while she was about it. The sandwiches were delicious, after all—if she nibbled long enough, she wouldn’t have to buy supper tonight. “But never mind that. What do you think a governess is supposed to do?”
    “Take away all our fun,” answered the thin, pale boy, his mouth full of sandwich. The other children nodded.
    “I see.” Caroline sipped her tea. “So what do you consider fun? How do you like to spend your days?”
    “Playing.” It was the young blond who piped up. Caroline patted the sofa beside her and he climbed up, allowing her to slip a pillow under his injured arm.
    “Reading.” The middle boy, the thin, sickly one, injected the single word with reverence.
    “Working on my machines.” The eldest girl, a lovely waif with rich auburn curls, wore coveralls stained with machine oil, but boasted a surprisingly proper accent.
    The dark-haired girl shrugged, then whispered softly, “Singing.”
    “Those are all excellent activities.” Caroline regarded each of them seriously. “But wouldn’t any of those things be easier to do with a bit of learning? For instance, one can play more games if one is able to read the rules. Isn’t that so? And how about all those books in Latin, or Greek, or French? Wouldn’t you like to learn to read those as well?” She turned to the girls. “One needs advanced mathematics to study engineering, and there’s a rather lovely pianoforte over in that corner. Someone to give lessons on that would certainly be helpful to a singer.”
    Each of them stopped to consider her words.
    She went on. “And of course, there are a thousand silly things to learn too—like which fork to use for shellfish or how to write a proper thank you note. Totally pointless, but people do expect one to know them. You wouldn’t want to embarrass Sir Merrick or Miss Hadrian, would you? It will look very poorly for them if their wards were unaware of proper