Nicola and the Viscount by Meg Cabot Read Free Book Online Page B

you frightened?” she asked the youngest Sheridan.
    As she’d expected him to do, the boy scoffed.
    â€œFrightened?” he echoed disparagingly. “Of what? That ?” He added this as the engine pulled up just before them and the previous passengers began to climb out of the carts, looking no worse the wear for their adventure. “Not on your life!”
    Everyone laughed—all except Nathaniel, who just stared steadily, with what Nicola considered quite unnecessary hostility, in Lord Sebastian’s direction. Really, she thought, but it was too ridiculous, this antipathy Eleanor’s brother had against the God, simply because he happened to like to row and was, by all accounts, quite good at it. The two young men had a good deal in common, both being eldest sons and graduates of Oxford. One would think they might be friends.
    But Nicola soon forgot all about her concern that the brothers of her two friends become friends as well, when the man operating the Catch Me Who Can turned toward them and called, “Ne-ext!”
    Lord Sebastian, handing over the shillings his father had given them, helped Nicola into one of the carts. As she lowered herself onto the wooden bench, she asked Eleanor, who’d remained standing while both her brothers took seats in the cart behind Nicola’s, “Aren’t you coming?”
    But Eleanor, with a quick look at her mother, who frowned, shook her head.
    â€œNot in this gown,” Eleanor said, fingering the pale silk of her skirt. “It looks much too dirty a business for me.”
    Nicola had time for only a nervous glance at her own gown, with its row of brand new forget-me-nots, before the man at the controls called out, “Hold on!”
    Still, in spite of the warning, when the Catch Me Who Can lurched forward, it jolted Nicola with such violence that her head went snapping back on her neck, and she would have lost her bonnet if she hadn’t flung up both hands to stop it from falling off.
    â€œAre you all right?” the God asked concernedly, placing a long arm about the back of Nicola’s seat.
    Nicola, startled by the feel of his arm around her shoulders, looked up, and was even more startled when she saw how close Lord Sebastian’s face was. Why, she could see each of his individual eyelashes! They were a delightful golden brown.
    Then the cart lurched again, and this time Nicola’s head went snapping forward. Her whole body, in fact, might have sailed from her seat if Lord Sebastian’s strong arm hadn’t kept a firm hold on her.
    And then, before Nicola could say another word, they were off.
    Her first thought was, Eleanor is wrong . Because Nicola’s white muslin skirt stayed perfectly pristine. That, of course, was because the white plume from the funnel before her wasn’t smoke at all, but steam. Mr. Trevithick’s machine used water, into which was thrust a red-hot poker, to propel it. It was amazing that as simple a thing as steam could create such a powerful reaction. The speed with which the engine chugged along was quite thrilling.
    The breeze on Nicola’s face felt refreshingly cool. And it was pleasant to whiz past the people gathered ’round the tracks, to see their shocked and delighted faces flashing past. It was the fastest Nicola had ever gone—she could hear Phillip, behind her, bellowing that they had to be going more than ten miles an hour. It was certainly the most exciting ride she’d ever had.
    And that, in no small part, was due to the strong, warm arm curled around her shoulders. Why, Lord Sebastian was holding on to her as if she were something highly breakable, or precious, even! She could feel his heart beating against the back of her arm. It was the most delightful feeling in the world. Surely it meant—it couldn’t mean anything else, could it?—that the God liked her—more than simply liked her. Loved her, even. It had to! It just had