While I was incapable of speech and had even forgotten that I’d been asked a question, Lizzie answered for me. “Let’s get her over to that bench, Alec. My legs are shaking, and I wasn’t the one almost run down.” They walked me between them to a nearby bench, where they settled me. I only realized I must have had tears springing to my eyes when the man handed me his handkerchief. Lizzie then said, “Alec, go get her some lemonade. She’s had quite a shock.”

I was unable to find my voice in time to protest before Alec darted off across the park to a refreshment stand. I dabbed at my eyes with a shaking hand, then clutched the handkerchief and tried to will myself into overcoming the combined shock of the near accident and the rapturous moment I’d just experienced. Lizzie sat beside me on the bench and squeezed my hand. “It’s fortunate that we came along when we did and that Alec has such excellent reflexes.” Her voice sharpened. “Those magpies think the city belongs to them. They don’t look out for anyone else. I don’t know how many times I’ve nearly been run down by magpie dandies out for a spin in their fancy little roadsters.”

My wits finally returned, and I remembered that I was in the company of a rebel. But she didn’t look like a radical. She could have been any girl out for a stroll in the park. She wasn’t even wearing the red ribbon and gear of the Rebel Mechanics. “I saw your article about the race,” I said, finding my voice. “At least, I presumed you wrote it.”

“Yes, ‘Smith’ is my nom de plume—or nom de guerre, as the case may be. It wouldn’t be safe to use my real name when reporting on such topics and for such a newspaper.”

“Being a journalist must be very exciting.” When I had to find a way to support myself, I hadn’t even considered journalism, although I could write quite well. I supposed there were far too many books about well-bred, educated young women being governesses and too few about young women being reporters.

Alec returned with two glasses of lemonade, one of which he handed to me with a bow, and the other to Lizzie. “Verity, I’d like you to meet Alec Emfinger,” she said. “He’s our genius who created the steam engine. Alec, this is Verity. She was one of your passengers yesterday. Oh dear, I don’t know your surname, Verity. That’s what happens when I let my brother make introductions.”

So Alec was my savior. I hadn’t seen him without his goggles yesterday. I had to fight to find my voice. “I’m Verity Newton,” I said, answering Lizzie without taking my eyes off Alec. I added to him, “Thank you for saving my life.”