Read The Difference Engine for Free Online Page B

her like a louse in a bitch’s ear,” Rudwick said, his sunburnt face flushing. “Fellow made me the most astounding proposition . . .”
    “And?” Mick said delicately.
    Rudwick frowned. “I did fancy you might know him, he seems the sort that might well run in your circles . . . ”
    “No, sir.”
    Rudwick leaned forward. “And what of another certain gent, Mr. Radley, very long of limb and cold of eye, who I fancy has been dogging my movements of late? Would he, perhaps, be an agent of your President Houston? Seemed to have a Texian air about him.”
    “My President is fortunate in the quality of his agents.”
    Rudwick stood, his face dark. “You’ll be so kind, I’m sure, as to request the bastard to cease and desist.”
    Mick rose as well, smiling sweetly. “I’ll certainly convey your sentiments to my employer, Professor. But I fear I keep you from your night’s amusements . . . ” He walked to the door, opened it, shut it on Rudwick’s broad, well-tailored back.
    Mick turned, winked at Sybil. “He’s off to the ratting-pits! A very low-sporting gentleman, our learned Professor Rudwick. Speaks his bloody mind, though, don’t he?” He paused. “The General will like him.”

    Hours later, she woke in Grand’s, in bed beside him, to the click of his match and the sweet reek of his cigar. He’d had her twice on the chaise behind their table in the Argyll Rooms, and once again in Grand’s. She’d not known him to be so ardent before. She’d found it encouraging, though the third go had made her sore, down there.
    The room was dark, save for the spill of gaslight past the curtains.
    She moved a bit closer to him.
    “Where would you like to go, Sybil, after France?”
    She’d never considered the question. “With you, Mick . . . “     He chuckled, and slid his hand beneath the bedclothes, his fingers closing around the mound of her womanhood.
    “Where shall we go then, Mick?”
    “Go with me and you’ll go first to Mexico. Then north, for the liberation of Texas, with a Franco-Mexican army under the command of General Houston.”
    “But . . . but isn’t Texas a frightfully queer place?”
    “Quit thinking like a Whitechapel drab. All the world’s queer, seen from Piccadilly. Sam Houston had himself a bloody palace, in Texas. Before the Texians threw him into exile, he was Britain’s greatest ally in the American west. You and I, why, we could live like grandees in Texas, build a manor by some river . . . ”
    “Would they truly let us do that, Mick?”
    “Her Majesty’s Government, you mean? Perfidious Albion?” Mick chuckled. “Well, that largely depends on British public opinion toward General Houston! We’re doing all we can to sweeten his reputation here in Britain. That’s why he’s on this lecture tour, isn’t it?”
    “I see,” Sybil said. “You’re very clever, Mick.”
    “Deep matters, Sybil! Balance of power. It worked for Britain in Europe for five hundred years, and it works even better in America. Union, Confederacy, Republics of Texas and California — they all take a turn in British favor, until they get too bold, a bit too independent, and then they’re taken down a peg. Divide and rule, dear.” The coal-end of Mick’s cigar glowed in the darkness. “If it weren’t for British diplomacy, British power, America might be all one huge nation.”
    “What about your friend the General? Will he truly help us?”
    “That’s the beauty of it!” Mick declared. “The diplomats thought Sam Houston was a bit stiff-necked, didn’t care for some of his actions and policies, didn’t back him as strongly as they should have. But the Texian junta that replaced him is far worse. They’re openly hostile to British interests! Their days are numbered. The General has had to cool his heels a bit in exile here in England, but now he’s on his way back to Texas, for what’s his by right.” He shrugged. “Should have happened years ago. Our trouble is that Her