[missile]

That night, when she dressed for the opera, she asked the maid to tighten her corset.

?Tighten? Mistress, there?s no slack left in the laces. The material?s pulled together as tight as a chimney sweep?s thighs in a stovepipe!?

?Really? It seemed to fit better in the store. Oh, well,? Dara remarked. Privately, she decided to see the woman in the lingerie shop the next day. Perhaps someone could train this incompetent slut to work a decent lacing.

Foster Williams sent his carriage for Dara the next day.

He stood waiting for her beside the road on the western side of the city. A number of carriages were depositing people who moved across the grass. Colored ribbons on sticks indicated a direction for travel.

She offered her hand to be assisted to the ground, but he reached past it. Taking her hips in his strong hands, he lifted her to the ground.

?Is that a corset?? he asked.

She pretended to strike him with her fan. ?Sir! My garments are none of your business, neither is speculation about those that are not able to be viewed.?

?At least, not yet,? he said with a winning smile, turning to lead her to whatever the ribbons were inviting them to.

This time, she struck him with the fan, right across that smile.

?Mister Williams. You take liberties.?

He rubbed at his lips and eyed her speculatively. ?It?s hard to believe you?re related to Sally O?Shay.?

?My aunt has established a reputation that was largely of her own design,? she said, turning to walk ahead of him. ?And what she tolerates in her own parlor is her affair. What you say to me, in public, is a different one.?

Dara was several steps along before Williams managed to catch up to her and step past. Turning to face her, he blocked her forward movement.

?You are right. I wronged you. I apologize, and promise it?ll never happen again.?

?Very well,? she allowed magnanimously, raising her hand to accept his elbow. ?You may begin making it up to me.?

?I hope to,? he promised.

Beyond a thin copse of trees, bleachers were raised at the edge of a large grassy field. A number of cannons were set up on one side.

?What are we doing here, Mr. Williams??

?My company is competing to answer the call of the New Ordnance Department for a new muzzle loading cannon. If we?re successful, we?ll be in a good position to fill Army orders well into the next century.?

?Muzzle loaders?? she asked.

?Yes, the guns that get loaded from the hole at the end, that?s the muzzle, those are muzzle loaders. If they?re loaded from the end the soldiers stand at??

?Didn?t the breech loaders sold to the Americans perform admirably during their recent war?? she asked, innocently. He blinked.

?Especially for naval units, it?s unwieldy to have to retract them fully, to swab and reload.? He blinked again. She smiled sweetly. ?At least, that?s what Daddy always says.?

?Ah, yes. The ironclads.? He held her hand as they climbed the steps. During the demonstration, she watched the weaponry closely.

Beyond pointing out that the third gun in the line was ?his,? Williams spent all his time glad-handing officers and other contractors in the stands. He was talking up the finer qualities of the five pounder offered by his company the whole time. At least he stopped talking long enough to watch the firing.

Having seen the soldier touch the burning rope to the fuse, Dara wasn?t surprised in the slightest, but she did notice a number of women in the crowd jumped at the first blast. The men escorting them were glad to offer support and comforting to their delicate sensibilities.

Out of the corner of her eye, she also noticed the long steady arm of her own escort hanging in the air between them.

?Sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I am no delicate flower to jump at things that go bump in the field.?

?I?m not disappointed in the slightest,? he lied smoothly. ?I merely readied myself if you were in need of support.?

The second gun fired. Dara was not exactly surprised that a number of women made certain to jump in terror at that one, too. She was a little critical of those that jumped before the actual blast, though.

?It?s possible to overdo it,? she muttered. Then she realized Mr. Williams thought she was talking to him.

?I should think that grabbing you was overdoing it, offering my hand for you to take-?

?Yes, yes, I?m sorry, you?re alright. But I?m afraid I don?t see too much difference between the guns.?

?Ah, well, at this distance-? he began.

?You are familiar with your field piece??

?Yes, well, it?s my job to-?

?So, perhaps you can tell me how many bags of gunpowder one loads after the shell itself?? She saw him trying to remember watching the loading process. She was already quite aware that he was speaking to a colonel behind them at that time.

?Well, it?s a five pound gun, so-?

?Are you suggesting that five pounds of powder will impell that shell??

?Um, no, actually, I meant that one bag of powder is loaded after the shell. One specially premade, premeasured bag of powder, mathematically calculated for precisely the weight of the precision ball supplied with the weapon.?

?I don?t think so,? she said, blinking her eyes coquettishly.

?What do you mean??

?I asked how many bags one stuffs down your cannon?s ?muzzle? after the shell.?

?Yes, and I said-?

?The shell goes down the barrel the last. The powder burns to force it out the muzzle. It couldn?t do that if it were between the muzzle and the shell.?

He stared at her, mouth agape.

?Mister Williams. I have loaded and fired a gun from inside an ironclad. I do not think you any less of a man for not having done so yourself. Your advantages, in social position, financial footing, and the great strength of your arms are quite admirable.

?But I caution you, sir, if you continue to underestimate me, you will have only two chances at seeing my corset: slim and none.

?And even the nun will say you haven?t got a prayer.? He laughed at her little American witticism. Then he good-naturedly escorted her out to the gun itself that she might speak with the crew.

By the time they returned to his carriage, all the others were gone.

?It was good of you to allow me to indulge my curiosity, sir,? she thanked him.

?Now, you underestimate me, dear. All I did,? he said, gesturing at the road around them with his hand, ?was make sure no one would be here to witness you climbing into my carriage without an escort.?

?My, you do take your liberties,? she observed, but quickly climbed up into the vehicle.

They sat across from each other as the coachmen drove off. ?So, sir, you have me at your mercy. What ever will you do??

?I should like to see your corset,? he replied. ?I do hope that in this less public setting, one might be more direct without fear of reprisal.?

In response, she lifted her dress hem.

?I?m afraid that the limited space and heaving of the coach prevent undressing.? She sighed. ?However, perhaps we might amuse ourselves on the journey.?

He moved to the seat beside her, practically ripping his pants open as he did. She reached in and grasped his manhood.

Williams? hands stroked across her blouse and petticoat, but the explorer found no route to the treasure buried within. Mostly, his imagination at the maddeningly close, but still barricaded flesh worked itself upon him while she brought him to his moment in her hand. Spent and gasping, he slid to the floor of the coach.

?I swear,? he gasped, ?I will never underestimate you again. That was miraculous.?

She smiled down at him as she wiped her hands on a cloth she?d secreted in her reticule. Dara then made shift to replace all her own clothing properly. Something was wrong, though. The corset seemed to be slipping loose. Without that foundation, all the rest of her clothes seemed loose as well.

?Good heavens,? she said, ?I?m going to look disheveled when I alight from the carriage!?

Williams helped as well as he could, which was not at all, then cowered as far back on the bench as possible when they reached Sally?s home. To all appearances, she was alone when she returned, just as when she?d left.

She scurried swiftly to the house, then up to her room. Calling for her maid, she began removing clothes to change for afternoon tea.