He let out a long exhale.
“I don’t want to care about you like that,” Amelia whispered. “If I care, I want to know.”
She reached out and took hold of his hand. There was a little scar, a pale brown line, across the knuckle of his thumb. She turned his hand over to examine his palm. He flipped his hand back, clasping their fingers together.
Slowly, he lifted his head. “Amelia.”
“Grayson.”
Their hands twined together.
He let out a breath. “You should know. This is not what I had planned. I was going to separate myself from you, but this is much more intimate than a kiss.”
“I was married for years.” She looked into the dark brown of his eyes. “I know.”
He looked down at their hands where they touched, tilting his so that their palms pressed against each other, fingertip to fingertip. His hand was larger than hers by an inch, and warmer by degrees.
“In some other world,” he said carefully, “I would wish you were mine. It turns out that I very much like odd, clumsy women whose heads are full of delightful ideas. But I’m asking you to be nothing.”
“No.” Amelia looked around the room at the piles of letters still stacked around them.
She could hear his voice now, whispering those remembered words. You’ve got the right idea. You’ve made excellent progress. Trust your instincts.
“You’re asking me to be myself,” she said.
He exhaled. His hand swallowed hers, pressing convulsively. She needed to memorize the feel of his touch on her skin for when he wasn’t here.
“Every time I see you.” He swallowed. “Every time I see you come into yourself more and more. Every time I do…” He reached out with his free hand, tapping the letters. “I mean these more and more.”
She bowed her head to brush her lips against the back of his hand. They stayed like that—fingers tangled together, her lips against his knuckles, while the clock behind them ticked and ticked.
They stayed that way until a knock sounded at the door.
“Mrs. Smith? Captain Hunter?” It was Benedict.
Amelia pulled herself away, slowly peeling their fingers apart before clambering to her feet and brushing her gown into place. “Yes?”
“The taotai has sent his answer.”
Captain Hunter stood as well, arranging his jacket. He did not look at Amelia. He did not hesitate. “I’m coming.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The reply from the taotai was succinct.
“Many thanks for your honored presentation,” Grayson read aloud to the office floor, “but Shanghai will not be in need of a telegraph service.”
Grayson could see Amelia—no, Mrs. Smith; he must think of her as Mrs. Smith, no matter what had just transpired—exhale, shoulders slumping. He reached out to her, his hand moving a half inch in her direction before he caught himself and pulled back.
Instead, Benedict touched her arm. “Don’t fret, Mrs. Smith. Captain Hunter has a plan. He always does.”
He did have a plan. He always did. His entire life seemed made up of contingencies layered upon contingencies, and all he needed to do was hold himself and everything together long enough to bring it all to fruition.
“I had hoped,” Amelia said, “that we might spare Captain Hunter the planning.”
Benedict seemed faintly puzzled by that. Grayson himself was bemused. But Mrs. Smith wasn’t the only one wondering what would happen next.
“I do have a plan,” Grayson said. “Chinese laborers and merchants travel the entire world.”
Her eyes met his, but he couldn’t stare at her. Not in front of the entire office. He made himself look away, making eye contact with everyone here.
“They live in Hong Kong and Macau and Singapore and Brazil—so many that the places are too numerous to mention. Your work will mean those people can communicate.”
Scholar Wu frowned. “But China itself…”
Grayson made sure his easy smile encompassed the room. “I promise you when the alternative becomes sending Chinese messages to Japan rather than shipping them over via courier, the taotai will come around. The better our system, the easier it will be for the Chinese abroad to adopt it, and the faster China will follow. We knew the taotai would oppose change at first. We’ve planted seeds. We must expect that they will take some time to bloom.”
The mood in the room warmed a little. People nodded.
“Your next step,” Grayson said, “is clear. Start readying codebooks and a method for training operators. We will launch in Hong Kong shortly.” He looked over them all, one by one, doing his best not to single out Amelia in particular.
“I’m leaving imminently for San Francisco to inspect the cable that will connect Myriad Island to Moresby. Once that’s finished, we will have a transpacific cable in place. And that will open our options considerably. I trust you will all continue with your excellent work.”
He could feel Amelia’s eyes on him as he spoke. He touched his forehead in something like a farewell salute and went to get his coat.
Amelia followed him. “Captain Hunter. If I could have a few words on logistics? May I walk with you as you leave?”
“Of course.” He donned his coat and hat, waiting for her to find her outdoor things before ushering her out the door ahead of him.
He wasn’t sure what she would say. They hadn’t spoken nearly enough. Comfort and reassurance were well and good, but he couldn’t promise her anything.
She followed him outside, pulling on her gloves in the crisp air. Her breath made white clouds. Then she smiled up at him, and all his inchoate worries seemed to shift in place.
“This was according to plan?” Her lips twitched. “Let me guess. Every setback is always according to your plan.”
“Of course.” He gave her a sardonic grin. “Bow before my prescience.”
They hadn’t spoken much at all, he was beginning to realize. True, they’d both said a great many things, but they didn’t have an understanding. They weren’t supposed to have an understanding.
“Amelia,” he said, “I’m leaving.”
“I know. You have said.”
“I won’t stay for you,” he replied bluntly. “And you say you won’t resent it now but—”
She made a face. “Grayson, I like you for who you are.”
He stared at her dumbly.
She gave him a cheeky smile, one that pierced right through him. “Your leaving at this exact moment is entirely according to my plan.”
“Your plan,” he echoed. “Your plan. What is your plan?”
“I suspect it’s about as firm as your plan. Just to confirm, while you’re away, I’m expected to operate independently.”
“Yes, of course. But I’m suspicious now. I’m very suspicious. What is your plan?”
“Oh dear.” She looked away. “You’re leaving imminently. I suppose you’ll just have to find it out, won’t you?”
After Grayson had left, Amelia retreated to the office where her staff waited.
“We’ll start work on compiling codebooks immediately,” she told them. “I have some thoughts. And we still have the problem of error correction to manage. But Benedict, I have an additional duty for you.”