The Armored Doctor (Curiosity Chronicles Book 2) (5 page)

Shouts came from the audience as they rushed for the exits, but their cries didn’t sound like anything remotely of panic.

An odd chuckle came from Dr. Valerian. “Now you’ve done it.” Although his mouth was covered, she saw that his eyes crinkled in a smile.

Seeing him suddenly cheerful put her in a good mood, too. At least he wasn’t angry at her for releasing the wrong vial. The sweet scent of the smoke filled her nose. She felt an irrepressible urge to giggle. “What have I done?”

Dr. Valerian coughed. “You released the vial of nitrous oxide.” He chuckled again as he rushed to her. “Laughing gas.”

“Oh.” She stood on tiptoe and looked over his shoulder even as he pulled her off the stage. The auditorium was a scene of smoke and hilarity as people doubled over in laughter. Some even fell to the floor in their artificially-rendered mirth, clutching their stomachs, guffawing as tears ran down their cheeks.

Abigail tried holding her breath, but the smoke tickled the back of her throat. She coughed, inadvertently inhaling the laughing gas again. Suddenly the auditorium appeared filmy and sparkled at the corners, as though in a dream.

She heard Dr. Valerian’s voice in the distance, even as she registered that he was right beside her, his hand grasping her arm firmly. “We must get out of here.”

But why must they leave? The auditorium was a world of happiness and gaiety. Outside was nothing but silly little problems. So silly that she couldn’t help but laugh at them.

Abigail’s reaction to the gas was worse than Jacob thought. Even as its effects wore off him shortly after he entered the hallway outside of the auditorium, she did nothing but giggle as he led her to his office. Now, as he attempted to step over the correspondence he scattered over the floor in haste earlier, he grew concerned over her behavior.

“What a funny picture.” Voice inordinately high and giddy, she giggled at a painting of a pastoral landscape hanging on the wall above his desk. “The leaves on the trees look so crinkly. Did you paint it yourself? I like to sketch, you know.”

He knew he should never have picked her out from the audience as a volunteer, but how could he ignore her when she pumped her hand in the air and stood on tiptoe? He reasoned that letting her assist him would cause less of a scene than her attempting to leap over the heads of the other lecture attendees.

How wrong he was. She hit the lever on the gauntlet gun and sent the whole lecture hall into a cloud of nitrous oxide. Students fled the hall, leaving books and overturned chairs in their wake. Judging from the cacophony of chortles outside due to the laughing gas, it would be several minutes before anyone could reach his office. Surely by then he could get Miss Abigail Benton to stop giggling.

Perhaps.

“Miss Benton, I think you should sit down.” Jacob pulled out one of the chairs in front of his desk.

His words dissipated in the air, as she didn’t hear him in her induced state. She kept her gaze transfixed on the painting. “Those branches look like squirrel tails. Bushy squirrel tails.” She let out a loud snort while tottering on her feet. One hand came dangerously close to knocking a glass globe off his desk.

Jacob hissed as the globe wobbled on the edge. “Miss Benton, if you would be seated, please. I insist.”

She seized upon the globe like a cat pawing a ball of yarn. “What’s this? Is it a child’s toy?”

“It most certainly is not. That was given to me by the Cambridge Dean of Medicine. Put that down.”

She gave it a shake. Her green eyes widened as the tiny snowflakes swirled inside. “Why, it’s Christmas inside.”

“Put that globe down and sit in this chair now.” Jacob hoisted the chair off the Indian rug and set it down with a thump. “I shan’t say it again.”

“I shan’t say it again.” Abigail dropped her voice an octave in mimicry. “Well, alright, then, since you asked so nicely.” She set the globe down. It promptly rolled off the desk and cracked once it hit the floor. “Oops.”

Jacob gritted his teeth.
Oops
couldn’t begin to summarize this continuing debacle.

Instead of walking to the chair, Abigail plopped herself on the desk, oblivious to the stacks of papers that spilled under her. She wobbled, her shoulders tilting. “Oh, my, I feel quite dizzy.”

Jacob steadied her with one hand while touching her forehead with the other. “You’re a bit warm. You’re experiencing a side effect of the gas.”

“You have lovely eyes.” She raised her chin and gazed at him with large, dilated pupils. “They’re light blue and clear as icicles.”

“I—” Jacob pushed his spectacles higher on the bridge of his nose. “Icicles?”

“You really shouldn’t hide them behind those spectacles.” Abigail swiped at them with a clumsy hand, leaving three fingerprints on the lenses.

Jacob thought about the accident that made his eyes sensitive to bright light and forced him to wear them in certain environments. “It’s not something that can be helped.”

“I can help. Allow me.” She tugged the spectacles off his face.

“Give those back.”

Shaking her head with a lopsided smile, she him them behind her.

“I am not in the mood for games, Miss Benton. Ouch.”

She caught a portion of his hair between her fingers and tugged. “How peculiar your hair color. You’re too young to have gray.”

Jacob winced as she tugged again, attempting to keep his neck straight. “That hue is the result of a trauma experienced during the field campaigns in India. As is the scar over my left eye.”

Her features contorted as sympathy competed with the residual giddiness on her face. “You poor man.”

Despite the effects of the gas, Jacob sensed that her response was genuine. To which, he didn’t know what to say.

“I find your hair quite fetching.” Her fingers glided through the strands to land gently on the scar over his eye. “And your scar.”

He closed his left eye and froze as her warm touch caressed his brow and slid down the length of his scar to his cheek. She hadn’t the foggiest idea what she was saying. His injuries made him repulsive, not fetching. And the ones hidden underneath his layers of clothing were far worse. “Miss Benton, I think that you ought to lie down until the effects of the gas wear off. But first I need to take back that gauntlet.”

He took her hand from his face. She found the lapels of his coat to grab instead. With surprising strength, she pulled him down for a very passionate and unexpected kiss.

Abigail’s kiss was just as warm and fevered as her brow. Her soft lips moved under his as she pulled him further down. Jacob caught the edges of the desk before he could fall on top of her. Unaware of his flailing, Abigail continued to press her mouth against his, still holding him by the lapels in an iron grip.

Her scent enveloped him in soft vanilla. Jacob found his eyes closing, his tactile senses coming alive as he felt her creamy-soft skin and the tickle of her hair against his cheek. He had been without the touch of a woman for so long that he almost believed that Abigail’s contact was real, that she welcomed him with open arms.

But her embrace was only the nitrous oxide talking.

Jacob broke free and came up for air. “Get a hold of yourself.” He spoke for himself as much as he did for her.

Abigail threw back her head. Auburn hair, loosened of its severe knot, tumbled over her shoulders in tangles and embedded pins. Hardly a caption of coiffed glory, but the absence of structure lent a playful edge. A blush crept onto her cheeks.

“You need a glass of water.” Jacob extended his right arm to grab hold of the pitcher on a side table.

“Such a gentleman,” she uttered before slumping against his shoulder.

“Miss Benton?” He shook her. Her cheek squashed against the epaulet of his coat as she sank against him. Her eyes may as well have been welded shut. She passed out like a furloughed sailor on a tavern spree.

Jacob grabbed her around the waist and supported her weight as he pulled her off the desk. His right leg buckled under their combined weight, but he retained balance as he backed up to the armchair by the curtained window. The COIC Secretary’s alarmed voice sounded at the door.

“Valerian, what in heaven’s name are you doing to that woman?”

The Secretary invited himself into Jacob’s office. He closed the door, shutting off the din of people crowding the halls.

Jacob shifted Abigail in attempt to put her in a more dignified position. A little muffled noise issued from her lips. “Mr. Secretary, this isn’t what it appears to be.”

“Well, I certainly don’t know what to make of it.” The Secretary helped him get Abigail seated on a chair. “What was in that smoke capsule?”

“Nitrous oxide. A relatively harmless compound under normal circumstances.” Jacob bent over Abigail and checked her vitals. “When inhaled, it brings a sense of relaxation and euphoria. In small doses, the effects usually last no longer than a few minutes. Miss Benton must have inhaled a large amount as it launched from the gauntlet gun.”

“Mm.” Abigail’s head fell back.

“Now she’s fainted. Bring my medical bag from the bottom desk drawer.” He fanned Abigail’s face.

The Secretary retrieved the bag. “Is what we’ve seen today an accurate portrayal of how that gauntlet will work in the field?”

Jacob fished inside the bag for smelling salts. He worked to uncork the bottle. “As I said, the nitrous oxide is a last resort to be employed when one wishes to make an escape.”

“Good.” The Secretary studied Abigail. “The COIC needs effective weapons to fight against Monsieur Broussard. That criminal industrialist is the true reason why we stay in conflict with France. And now there’s word of a spy ring he has running about somewhere in London’s streets.”

Jacob got the cork out of the bottle. The Secretary’s mention of Broussard gave him a fleeting thought for the COIC’s current domestic and foreign agendas, but his concern for Abigail trumped both. He positioned his hand behind her neck and cradled her head. Soft strands of her hair tumbled over his fingers. He brought the smelling salts under her small nose.

Her eyelids flew open and she blinked rapidly. Jacob allowed her to sit up as she gasped once. “Miss Benton, how are you feeling?”

She turned her eyes on him, wide, wild, and green as forest mist. She looked ready to spring from the chair any moment. “Where am I? I was on a stage with this striking device. Oh, who are you?” She pointed at the Secretary with the hand that still wore the gauntlet. He reflexively drew back.

“He’s an associate of mine,” Jacob explained while swooping quickly to unbuckle the gauntlet and remove it.

The Secretary crept out from where he shielded himself behind the desk. “That was quite a demonstration you performed, Miss Benton. I don’t think I’ve seen anything so engaging in a lecture hall.”

Jacob looked at him. Surely he wasn’t encouraging her.

“Tell me, where did you learn to shoot?”

“My mother taught me,” she replied, rubbing her wrist where the gauntlet’s straps left their mark. She rolled her sleeve down. “She always stressed to my sister and I that a lady should know how to defend herself if the situation calls for it.”

The Secretary’s eyes flicked from her to the gauntlet in Jacob’s possession. “Perhaps Dr. Valerian will consider letting you help him test that gauntlet gun until it’s ready for another demonstration.”

He was encouraging her. Jacob stifled a groan as a hopeful smile graced her face. As much as that smile warmed the cool interior of his office, he couldn’t allow her to get her hopes up. “Miss Benton, I think you should go home and rest. I’ll find you a cab.”

“But I feel more enlivened than when I arrived here.” She planted both feet on the floor and stood. Jacob and the Secretary moved to support her in case she became unsteady, but she shook her head of unraveled hair. “Whatever you put into that vial seems to have given me much pep.”

She already had more than enough to begin with. Perhaps that was why the laughing gas’ effects took so long to wear off, Jacob thought wryly. “You will go home to recover. Doctor’s orders.” A knock came from outside the door. “Come in.”

Professor Markel entered and instantly focused on the collage of correspondence on the floor, as well as the shattered globe. “Dr. Valerian, I still have the lady’s scarf and coat. I came to see if she was here with you.”

“Indeed, she is. Are there any drivers waiting outside?”

“Just one, I believe. Most people have already left.”

Fled the premises, was more like it. Jacob doubted any of them would return for next week’s lecture. “Miss Benton will be taking a cab home. Here’s money for her fare. Would you please see that she is situated?”

“Of course, Doctor.” The professor took the money from Jacob. “If you will come with me, Miss Benton.” He held Abigail’s coat open for her to put on.

Jacob leaned against his desk. The euphoria effect of the nitrous oxide had eased a little of his leg pain, but now it returned. “Thank you for your help with the demonstration today, Miss Benton.”

She turned a glare up at him. Those wide, wild eyes he compared to green forest mist now begat a layer of frost. She put one hand behind her neck and her expression turned surprised as she realized her hair had come undone.

Jacob averted his eyes politely as Abigail attempted to make something orderly of her tangled strands and the pins that remained in them. The other men did the same.

Professor Markel still held her coat. She jabbed the last hairpin in place before she thrust her arms in the coat sleeves and slipped her scarf around her neck. The ends flew in the breeze she made when following the professor out the office.

Jacob turned to the Secretary once the door closed. “I sincerely apologize for the mishap with the gauntlet gun’s deterrent smoke capsule, but that will be fixed promptly.”

“I’m not sure I believe you, Doctor.”

Jacob grew anxious. Did that mean the end of his chances to get the COIC commission? “May I ask, why?”

“You have a lecturing contract at this school.”

“It’s temporary, in order to supplement my practice. My patients are mostly of the laboring classes and unable to pay full price for their prosthetic devices.”