"Victorian Scoundrel" is a steampunk romance. Set in London, 1851, Alice "cons" Grayson out of his scent. *wink*
Enjoy!
Steph
He leaned forward. "I would like to see you again, Miss Windsor."
Alice nipped at her lower lip. He smelled of soap with a hint of spice. She wanted to see him again as well, especially since she would need his help getting her necklace back, but what was she going to tell him? That she was a royal from the future and she really didn't have a place to stay right now? That was too unbelievable. Besides, she shouldn't be leaving her fingerprints, either. "Ah, I'm uncertain what my cousin has planned for us."
"Let me remind you that you need your necklace back."
"Indeed I do. Perhaps you can give me your scent, and I'll contact you tomorrow with a whuzzie."
A whuzzie was a small mechanical ball with wings like a bird. It had a small opening on the top to hold handwritten correspondence. On the bottom was a voice recorder and space for the scent of the person you wanted to send the whuzzie to. The whuzzie matched the scent to the person's name and each scent was unique. An ounce of coal powered the whuzzie, which was good for a trip and a return trip. It was the acceptable way to deliver messages in this time period.
He furrowed his brow. "You are an odd one, aren't you?"
"Me? Why do you say that?"
"A gentleman is supposed to be the one to make arrangements to see a lady."
Alice wrinkled her nose, felt her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose, and pushed them back into place. What could she tell him? Oh, in my time it's no big deal for a guy to give a girl his scent?
Grayson cocked his head. Uncertainty pooled in those expressive hazel eyes of his. Alice decided the best approach should be sincerity.
"My Lord--"
"Grayson, please."
"I do know how to properly address you."
"I didn't doubt it for a minute, I would prefer you call me Grayson."
A warm gentle wave washed over Alice. Why did the man have to be so charming? And why did that dimple in his right cheek pop out when his smile was especially deep and wide, confounding her pulse even more? She returned his smile despite her better judgment. "Grayson, quite honestly, this day has been one surprise after another for me. When I woke up, I had no idea I'd be visiting Buckingham Palace."
"I believe you."
"So believe me when I say I have no idea how this day is going to end. I'll know more when I meet with my cousin, Edmund."
He slowly nodded his head, giving his reluctant acquiescence.
"Grayson, I promise if you give me your scent, I'll be in touch with you tomorrow."
He reached into his frock jacket, pulled out a small vial and handed it to her.
"Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome."
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