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Lloyd had barely slept. Hobart’s watches were legendary. The maker had been meticulous, creating only a few every year, and the rarity made Lloyd’s blood sing. He’d packed his tools and repacked them several times, finding comfort in the process, and then he’d been early for his meeting with Mr Gilbert, so he’d paced around the block a few times. And now—finally—he followed a butler into Mr Gilbert’s townhouse. He hadn’t been this excited about a discovery in years. He wished he could tell his mother about it. The discovery had a bittersweet taint to it; she would’ve loved being part of this.

“Good morning, Lord Lawndry.” Mr Gilbert strode towards him, wearing a striped banyan with his nightshirt open at the top. Was he wearing no trousers under the banyan? The banyan hung all the way to his ankles, only showing his slippered feet. The man exuded a peaceful confidence and Lloyd wanted to bottle it up, so he could use it for himself whenever he had to go out in society.

“Morning. I appear to have interrupted your morning ablutions.”

“My lord.” Mr Gilbert raised his eyebrows and Lloyd realised he’d said the wrong thing, used the wrong word. Well, the man shouldn’t lounge about in his night clothes with so much skin showing. Skin that beckoned Lloyd and made him want to watch Mr Gilbert washing himself. He shook his head quickly to try and clear away the image that made his heart race, and his cheeks feel hot.

“Mr Gilbert, I meant that I can return later when you are dressed? I didn’t intend to interrupt your ...” What word did he need? “Morning routine.”

“Are you bothered by my choice of attire?”

Lloyd shouldn’t be. He was here to examine, and hopefully maintain, a Hobart. “Bothered, no. Surprised. Perhaps a smidgeon. Where is the Hobart?”

“Why do you call it that?”

“Hobart?”

“Yes. The inscription says Nobert. N O B E R T.”

Lloyd closed his eyes. He’d never heard of such a thing, not even among the cheaper copies by the apprentices of good makers. Copies tended to have the name of the real maker; they were worth more with a maker’s mark from a skilled craftsman. “Show me.”

“You are very direct.”

“I ... Thank you.” His mother had always said that it was better to accept something as a compliment than to waste time on a discussion about whether something was correct or not. He tore his gaze away from Mr Gilbert and his lack of adequate clothing. In the middle of the room was a table that would be perfect for working on thanks to the strong natural light coming through a window. He placed his toolbox on the table, and opened it up, spreading out a linen cloth to create a good work surface.

“What do you intend to do with my watch?”

He spun around to discover that Mr Gilbert had snuck up behind him and was now standing very close, and he was surprised to notice that Mr Gilbert was slightly shorter than him. Only an inch or two, yet he remembered him as much taller. The man had a presence about him which made a lie of his actual size.

“If you allow, I’d like to examine it and then possibly clean it and adjust the mechanism to fix the timing.”

“And you know that it needs this from kneeling on the floor listening to it while a ball was being loudly conducted in the room next door.”

Yes. He’d trained himself to be able to do that. It came from years of practice; one could hardly have a natural talent for the time. “I was careful not to touch the watch.” He needed to remind Mr Gilbert that he’d followed his instructions.

“And now you wish to pull it apart and I’m supposed to trust that you know what you are doing?”

“A fair question. I am a member of the Worshipful Company of Clockmakers and am quite well sought after as a valuer of clocks and watches. I was at Lord Hedwick’s gathering to help him with a Vulliamy & Sons clock that he wished to take to auction.”

“I thought you were there to woo his daughter.”

“Hedwick wished for that to happen, yes.”

Mr Gilbert barked out a laugh. “I take it you’d rather see the damned clock than dance prettily with Hedwick’s daughter.”

Lloyd was out of his depth. He knew from past experience that anything he said about someone in society was likely to find its way back to them and he’d be liable for the apparent insult. “She seemed pleasant.”

“Don’t be all flustered now. I’m teasing.”

“You are?” Lloyd didn’t know what to make of Mr Gilbert. This was why he preferred the mechanical parts of a watch. They were consistent and he always knew what to do with them.

“Are you not interested in Lady Sarah Hedwick? She’s rather pretty.”

“Yes. I mean, no. I am only interested in your watch, Mr Gilbert. Stop trying to distract and confuse me with your teasing.” He didn’t like the way his heart galloped when Mr Gilbert gave him that sly little smile. Was this because he’d been teasing him? People were so confusing.

“Your determination makes me wonder two things.” Mr Gilbert didn’t elaborate.

“Two things?” Lloyd couldn’t stand the prolonged silence with the air crackling between them. He felt like he stood on the edge of the turret at the top of his family castle.

“Am I supposed to be flattered by your attempt to ingratiate yourself with hints that my old watch is worth something?” Was Mr Gilbert angry at him? There was an edge to his voice that Lloyd couldn’t make sense of.

“And the other thing?”

“I’d like to see you on your knees for me again.”

Lloyd stared at Mr Gilbert, whose cheeks had gone pink. “You want me to examine your watch while you are wearing it?”

Mr Gilbert rolled his eyes, which made no sense. “Are you really this obsessed with my watch?”

“Yes. I would have served an apprenticeship with Hobart if circumstances allowed.”

“Lords don’t do apprenticeships.”

Lloyd had heard that too many times, and by the time he’d reached his majority and could do whatever he pleased, Hobart was no longer producing, presumed dead, and he’d missed the chance to work with one of the finest silver workers and precision watchmakers in England, assuming he’d have been able to find him and convince him to let him work with him.

“I think you’ll find that a Lord can do whatever he wants.” His toes started to tap in his shoes, impatient to end this frustrating discussion and get on with his examination of the Hobart. Why was Mr Gilbert so reticent? Why bother inviting him here if he didn’t want him to investigate the watch? Was he wrong about it being a Hobart? Maybe Mr Gilbert knew that and didn’t want to be embarrassed?