Nicola and the Viscount by Meg Cabot Read Free Book Online

that he had a surprise for them all.
    Still, Nicola was determined not to let her excitement show. At least, she would not shriek, let alone bounce, as the Bartholomews’ open carriage made its way through the crowded streets of London toward a yet-unknown location. That was because the God was trotting along beside the phaeton—he’d wanted to use the opportunity give his new mount’s legs a stretch. Nicola was therefore doing her best to appear cool and collected…a difficulty, given the summer heat. Still, the parasol helped a little.
    And she certainly knew that, in her second-best white muslin gown, along the hem of which she’d spent all week sewing blue silk forget-me-nots, she looked very well. She’d sewn ribbons matching the shade of the forget-me-nots onto her white straw bonnet. Though her ensemble cost a fraction of the amount Lady Honoria’s did, Nicola knew it appeared every bit as stylish and neat. And, careful as she’d been to keep her face in the shade, even her freckles seemed finally beginning to fade.
    â€œWhy, I know where we’re going now,” Honoria declared, looking about. “Euston Square.”
    Lady Farelly, who had come along for the ride most reluctantly, as she disliked missing luncheon, and besides, had a dressmaker’s appointment later in the day, looked about without enthusiasm. To her, London began and ended with Mayfair, and anything outside of it was simply tiresome.
    â€œI hope, Jarvis,” she said to her husband, “that wherever we’re going, there aren’t going to be monkeys. You know how I feel about monkeys.”
    Lord Farelly laughed heartily, and assured his wife she had nothing to fear.
    And then the carriage pulled to a halt beside a large crowd all clustered around something in the square that Nicola couldn’t see. But others seemed to know what it was, since Lord Sebastian, dismounting, gave a knowing laugh, and said, “Good show, Father.”
    Nicola wasn’t able to see what the surprise was until—the God escorting her and his sister most obligingly, while Lord and Lady Farelly trailed behind—they had made their way through the crowd. It was then that Nicola was met by a most curious sight. A track, in a circular shape, had been laid upon the grass, and upon it, down at one end of the circle, sat a monstrosity of a machine, with a barrel body and a stack jutting up from its top. Attached to the back of it were several low boxes about the size of pony carts, to which wheels had been attached, wheels that rested on the metal track. Nicola, recognizing it from pictures she had seen, gasped.
    â€œWhy,” she cried, “it’s a locomotive!”
    â€œIndeed,” Lord Farelly replied, beaming. “Aren’t you surprised? Isn’t this diverting, my dear?”
    Lady Farelly looked as if she wished the surprise had been champagne and strawberries at the Vauxhall. But she managed a small smile and said, “Excessively, my dear.” Lady Farelly made no secret of the fact that she found her husband’s obsession with locomotives almost as odious as she found monkeys.
    Nicola, however, was quite impressed. She had never seen a locomotive before. She understood that one was used to haul coal at the colliery near Beckwell Abbey, but she had never actually seen it. Now here sat one before her, not one mile from the center of London!
    â€œIt’s called the Catch Me Who Can ,” Lord Farelly informed them, as proudly as if he had built it himself. “Man named Trevithick set it up. And look.” He pointed. “He’ll let you take a seat on it. One shilling per person per ride.”
    Nicola gasped as she saw several people, giggling excitedly, take seats in the little pony carts. A minute later, the engine gave a snort, and then, billowing white smoke from its snout and making a hideous noise, it began to pull the carts around the track. The people