“If you’re set on building an automaton,” Owen said. “You’ll need some help.”
Claire tilted her chin up. “I’ll manage on my own, thank you very much.”
She descended deeper into her laboratory to signal that the conversation was over. But Owen showed no inclination to leave. He simply leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms.
His clothes were stained with grease and ash from working at the fire and anvil all day. She’d rather not have him dirtying up her clean laboratory…
“What do you want?” Claire demanded. She paused on the spiral staircase to the second floor where she kept the blueprints for her inventions.
“Have you found someone to finance your project?” Owen said.
Claire frowned. She continued climbing upward, her heels click-clacking a fierce beat on the brass stairs.
“I’m working on it,” she said. “These things take time. I have quite a long list of potential prospects.”
Owen hummed. “I’m sure you do.”
Claire glanced over her shoulder. “I beg your pardon?”
She huffed and gave her purple skirts an extra swish of defiance as she rounded the last curve of the staircase. She came to stand at the balcony, her hands braced on the railing as she looked down at Owen. He didn’t need to know that her list was nearly finished and when she’d crossed off the last name of possible supporters for her project, she had no idea what she’d do.
“Why are you so interested?” Claire said.
Owen didn’t reply at first. He ventured two steps into her laboratory - uninvited - and approached her globe. He gave it a spin with two fingers and watched it whirl in a blur of blue and green for a moment.
“I’ve seen your work,” he said at last. “I know what you’re capable of. Just because other people underestimate you doesn’t mean your vision should be crippled.”
That certainly wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting. Claire turned her head to the side as if she was examining the balustrade for nicks or marks to hide her surprise.
“You certainly have a way with words, Mr. Grady,” she said.
“It’s just Owen,” he said. “Since we’ll be working together,” he added with a hopeful lift of his eyebrows and a grin.
She needed him, damn it. For all this time, she’d been searching for support, for someone to believe in her and her vision of the future. And yet, here was Owen Grady, gazing up at her as he confessed his faith in her abilities, her intelligence, her determination.
“All right, Owen,” Claire said, putting emphasis on his name. Owen’s grin grew even wider. She pushed back from the railing. “I look forward to doing business with you.”
He was a metal smith. She was an inventor. When they put their heads together to create the world’s first automaton, sparks were sure to fly.
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