Miss Bramble and the Leviathan Read online

  MISS BRAMBLE

  AND THE

  LEVIATHAN

  A Steampunk Romance

  Kristen Painter

  The last thing she planned to steal was his heart.

  When Pandora Bramble steps aboard the Company’s premiere airship Daedalus it’s not for the exclusive VIP tour. It’s to secure proof that the Company stole the regulator valve her father designed—even if it means tearing the engine apart. Foiled by the unexpected appearance of a handsome crew member, she despairs of ever getting another chance—until he kisses her.

  Captain Theolonius Hatch, sentenced to engine room duty for refusing to take part in the Company’s fleet week activities, never dreamed a woman like Pandora existed. Her brains match her beauty, a combination that adds up to more trouble than he ever expected.

  As Pandora allows Theolonius to sweep her into a whirlwind courtship, her wildest dreams come true. As do her greatest fears, leaving her to decide what matters most. Loyalty? Or love?

  The clock is ticking…

  MISS BRAMBLE AND THE LEVIATHAN:

  A Steampunk Romance

  Copyright © 2016 Kristen Painter

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

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  Chapter One

  “I respectfully decline.” Captain Theolonius Hatch kept his back straight and his shoulders squared as Rear Admiral Edmonton, the man who’d been like a father to him all these years, had not yet given him permission to rest at ease.

  Edmonton’s bulldog face contorted as he stared at Hatch like he’d sprung a leak. How many times in Hatch’s life had that look been narrowed his way? “All crew members are participating. This isn’t a choice.”

  Few things were in the Company. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

  “Granted.”

  “There is always a choice, Rear Admiral.” Hatch’s Company career was proof of that. The right choices changed everything. Whether or not this was one of those choices remained to be seen. “And I choose not to participate. The Leviathan fleet is not a traveling circus meant to entertain the great unwashed masses. It is a not a tool by which the sagging parliament might prop itself up. We are an elite force designed to protect the country of Grand Isle, not an amusement for the citizens of the capital. The more that’s known about what we do and how we do it, the less effective we become.”

  “Protect and serve,” Edmonton added. “And need I remind you that without parliament, there would be no fleet. No Company for that matter.” He shook his head. “I’m old, but not so old that I don’t recall you once being a part of those unwashed masses.”

  The part about snatching Hatch out of those masses and giving him a purpose in life was implied. Hatch nodded and let him finish.

  Edmonton sat in the tall chair behind his desk and motioned toward Hatch. “At ease.”

  Hatch relaxed and Edmonton picked up a cigar. He lit it, puffing methodically until the end glowed with a fat, cherry ember. He exhaled and gestured with the cigar firmly planted between two sausage fingers. “You realize your refusal can’t go unpunished.”

  “I do, sir. I accept whatever you deem appropriate.” Hatch had anticipated that, but knowing Edmonton as he did, he’d also anticipated the punishment wouldn’t be such a cross to bear.

  Edmonton chewed the end of the cigar. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  Hatch grinned. Edmonton had been saying that for years. “I have a feeling you’ll outlive us all, sir.”

  “I understand your position, son, I do. Just between us, I agree with you. I like the hoops parliament makes the Company jump through about as much as I like my mother-in-law’s Sunday dinners.” He scowled. “You’ve eaten her mutton. Calling that dinner is like calling mud profiteroles.”

  “Is that the reason you signed up for so many tours, sir?”

  “Half of them anyway.” Edmonton snorted, then sighed. “You’re on twenty four bells engine duty for the first day of the fleet’s stay in Praeton. I’ll expect the Daedalus to be fully tuned and in top shape by lift off, and your captain’s duties to be seen to as well.”

  Hatch schooled his face against the grin threatening to take over. He’d begun as an engine man and since becoming captain, his time amongst the boilers had been limited to inspections. Getting his hands dirty again seemed like more of a reward. He nodded. “Thank you, sir. I won’t disappoint you.”

  “You never have.” Edmonton puffed his cigar. “But I’m not the one you need worry about.”

  * * *

  Pandora Bramble pushed the lace-trimmed curtain back and peered down onto the street below. Sentries stalked the cobblestones like great mechanized spiders looking for their next meal. Their cylindrical bodies bobbed above their shiny brass appendages, rows of mirrored eyes surveying the pedestrians and carriages.

  Wretched mechs.

  She dropped the curtain back into place, sat on the wood bench at the foot of her bed and yanked on her study leather boots. She slipped the button hook through the first hole. Of course security was high today.

  The Leviathan fleet was in town.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Simka Cherchetski, Pandora’s dearest friend, stuck her blonde head into the room. “Why aren’t you dressed yet, lapochka?”

  Pandora hooked the last button. “I’m dressed.”

  Simka arched a brow. “Hat? Gloves? Hurry, I don’t want to be late.”

  “The shipmen aren’t going anywhere. They’ll be in town until the fleet takes off again.”

  “Yes, but perhaps that is not enough time for them to properly adore me.” Simka laughed good-naturedly.

  Pandora smiled and plopped her second best hat on her head, securing it with a pin. The brown felt was serviceable if not especially fashionable, much like herself. What did it matter? Beside the gleaming beacon of Simka’s Siberian beauty, no one would notice her unruly brown hair and rainwater eyes. It was a fact Pandora counted on. She snatched up her well-worn tan kid gloves, the buckle from the tool kit strapped to her right thigh brushing the left as she stood. She adjusted her skirts, hoping it wasn’t noticeable. “Let’s go.”

  “You have your card? The marque is not enough to get in.”

  “In my chatelaine.” Pandora’s gaze went to the small red dot tattooed just below Simka’s ear. All Praeton citizens wore one. If you wanted to live in the capital city and enjoy all the privileges therein, you bore the marque. Baron Cherchetski had earned the marques for his wife and daughter by inventing the weapons system used by the Leviathans and swearing allegiance to the Grand Isle crown while renouncing his birth land. His Leviathan connection was how Pandora and Simka had gotten the tickets to the landing and the passes that would get them on one of the private tours.

  “What is wrong? I thought you were excited to go?”

  “I am, I just…I don’t know.” In truth Pandora desperately wanted to see the Leviathans, but not for the same reasons as Simka. She wanted to ogle the crews in their handsome uniforms. Pandora wanted to ogle the engines. But since her great and unyieldin g desire to get her hands dirty working on a Leviathan engine would never come to pass, she would content herself to gaze at the airships in all their steam-powered glory. Then, if things went as planned, she would sneak into an engine room and prove that her father’s work had been stolen by retrieving one of the regulator valves.

  “Well, it’s too late to back out. You promised me a week ago.” Simka shook her head, smiling. “You’ll have fun. You’ll see. Now come along, the coach is waiting.”

  With a sigh, Pandora followed after her dear, albeit misguided, friend and went downstairs. She couldn’t really blame Simka for being so man-crazy. Simka was a gorgeous creature with an equally gorgeous dowry awaiting the man who could persuade her to accept his ring. And they tried. In droves. Her fun lay in playing them against each other, setting them at odds and seeing which one could woo her more extravagantly. The men didn’t seem to mind, but rather rose to the challenges Simka set forth with such vigor one might wonder if certain parts of Simka weren’t made of gold themselves.

  Not so with Pandora. If a man looked her way, it was purely accidental. Her dowry had long ago been swallowed up by her father’s gambling debts, if there had ever even been one. No matter. A husband would only complicate her life. She had her father to take care of, the shop that was her family’s livelihood to look after and a brain full of ideas that would keep her company until the day women were considered valuable for more than just child-bearing and house-tending.

  She only hoped she lived long enough to see that day. Dying an old maid might seem stoic, but in reality, the idea scared her just the tiniest bit. Pushing the thought aside, she strode into the repair shop that comprised the front half of their bottom floor and kissed her father on the cheek, carefully avoiding a particularly large smudge of grease. The sweetness of whiskey wafted off him. She glanced into his tea cup. At least he’d waited until after luncheon. “Papa, we’re off now.”

  “Marvelous, marvelous.” He looked up from his work bench. “Nice to see you, Simka. Tell your father I’ll have new schematics for him to look over at Friday night’s dinner, will you?”

  Simka waved. “Yes, of course, Mr. Bramble. Do svidaniya.”

  “Have fun, my dears, but keep an eye out.” He shook his head. “Those Company men are a wily lot, never know what they might be up to,” he muttered softly enough for her ears only.

  “Yes, Papa,” Pandora answered. Her hand came to rest against the tool kit strapped beneath her skirts. Company men weren’t the only wily ones.

  The coach was a beautiful contraption, deepest blue exterior with brass trim and burgundy leather inside. A pair of matched bays pranced in front, not the least bit cowed by the steam-powered buggy passing in the street.

  Baron Cherchetski had purchased the coach for the sole use of his precious daughter ever since she’d let one of her suitors take the steering of his steam-powered conveyance. Simka’s beau, unused to the vehicle’s speed, had taken down a fruit stand and nearly the fruit seller with it.

  Pandora settled next to Simka as one of the drivers closed their door. With the slightest lurch, the coach took off for their destination.

  Simka pulled a small hat box from under the seat and plopped it on Pandora’s lap. “Here. For you.”

  “What? Why?” Pandora disliked surprises, especially ones she couldn’t reciprocate.

  Simka smiled. “It’s a birthday present.”

  “My birthday is months away.”

  “Oh, is it?” Simka tapped a finger on her cheek.

  “You know very well it is. I won’t allow you to buy me anything else if I accept this.”

  “Pish posh. Open it!”

  Pandora removed the lid and gazed down at the beautiful hat nestled in tissue. Simka must have used every ounce of restraint she possessed not to buy something bleeding ribbons and roses. Pandora lifted the hat out, pleased by the simple lines and enduring tones of chestnut brown and navy. She didn’t even mind the pheasant feathers arcing from the band. “It’s lovely. Truly lovely.”

  “Then put it on and tuck the one you’re wearing away. You can save that for market day. Or better yet, hand it down to Martha.” Simka laughed. “Are you proud of me for not buying the one I liked best?”

  Pandora laughed and nodded. “More than you know.” She switched hats and returned the box to its spot under the seat. Even with such a pretty thing on her head, she’d be invisible to the men around them. It took more than a few feathers to distract the male species from Simka’s splendor.

  Seeker’s Park teemed with activity both in and outside the stern iron fencing, but neither the crowds, nor the fence, nor the stately oak and chestnut tree border could hide the hulking bronze hulls of the Leviathans. A shiver of excitement zipped down Pandora’s spine and she felt sympathy for the less fortunate who had no tickets clustered around the fence. She’d be amongst them if not for the Baron’s generosity.

  The coach eased to a stop at the main gates as another released its passengers and rolled off. Sentries framed the entrance, mechanical eyes scanning every passing soul. Simka produced their tickets and waved the stamped tin tokens at the uniformed officer who came to the coach’s side.

  He nodded as he saw them, taking them from her hand to inspect. He eyed both girls cautiously. “I’ll need to see your marques and cards.”

  Each turned their head to reveal the small red circle. Pandora frowned as she did it, feeling a slight revulsion at being forced to show herself to a man she had no relation with.

  “Very well,” he said. “Cards?”

  They produced the appropriate documents and gave them over. The guard studied the cards, his gaze flicking back and forth from the girls. Carriages stacked up behind them.

  “You’re unescorted.”

  Simka raised her chin. “My father is Baron Cherchetski. We are special guests.”

  The guard handed the documents back, then fished two star-shaped brass medals from his pocket and handed one to each of them. The medal had a small tab on it and the front was stamped with a star. “Fasten those to your bodices.” He nodded up to one of the drivers. “Carry on.”

  Such was the power of the baron’s name. Would her father’s name command the same respect if things had gone differently? The driver hopped down and opened the door for them. Pandora got out first, Simka behind her. Pandora pinched the medal onto the neck of her gown as Simka did the same with her own. Then Simka took Pandora’s arm, squeezing it as they moved through the gates. “This is so exciting. Look at all the fine, young shipmen.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Pandora muttered. Fine looking ships was more like it. Yes, the shipmen were very attractive in their tan and blues, but their eyes merely skimmed her on the way to Simka. She didn’t blame them. Simka was hard not to look at.

  “Hullo, ladies.” An ensign came up to them, doffing his cap and smiling broadly. “Here for a tour, are you?” He was kind enough to smile once at Pandora before shifting his attention solely to Simka.

  “Yes,” Simka answered, tapping the star pinched onto her neckline. “We have passes for one of the private tours.”

  “Ah, very good.” He extended his arm. “Ensign Anders at your service. I’d be happy to escort you to the Daedalus. She’s the one they’re touring special guests through.”

  “Very kind of you, Ensign Anders.” Simka gave him a look Pandora recognized well. Anders was far too green to keep Simka’s attention for long, but she’d get what she could out of him before someone better came along.

  Pandora stifled a laugh. The poor ensign would never know what hit him until it was too late. She exhaled in joy as they walked toward the magnificent Daedalus. She’d never been this close to a Leviathan before.

  The towering beauty of the ship caught the breath in her throat. The curves of its thin metal envelope begged to be admired. From the fat, rounded stern to the tapering point of the stem, the balloon gleamed in the late afternoon sun. Beneath the balloon rested the gondola, four stories of working space out fitted with porthole windows that gave the ship the appearance of some sort of great metallic beast waiting to inhale.

  Looking down the field, Pandora had the sudden fleeting fancy that the ships might come to life and break away from their tethers, returning to the sky where they seemed rightfully at home. But that was a childish fantasy. These were ships, not mechs. There was nothing sentient about them.

  She hurried to catch up with Simka and Anders, who were nearly at the Daedalus’s gangway. The closer she got, the more mammoth the ship became. Seeker’s Park held a grand total of fifteen ships, but the Daedalus was the only cruiser class in residence. It carried a heavier payload and its gondola could comfortably house as many as three hundred men.

  Finding the engine rooms in such a space would have been impossible in the short amount of time she’d have if not for the stolen moments spent studying the ship’s diagrams in Baron Cherchetski’s office.

  An airman stood at the head of the gangway. He saluted Ensign Anders, who returned the gesture with a snap of his hand to his brow. “These lovely ladies are here for the private tour.”

  “Very good, sir. There’s a group inside just ready to go, I’m sure there’s time to join them.” The airman unhooked the velvet rope from across the gangway and stood to one side to let them pass. “Enjoy your tour.”

  “Thank you,” Simka answered, keeping her hand locked over Anders’ arm as he led them into the ship.

  The gangway connected to the far end of the second story and opened onto a vast room paneled at the stern with windows. The observation deck. A small group of civilians clustered by the windows, listening to another uniformed officer.

  Anders leaned in. “I believe the tour has started.”