The Girl in the Clockwork Collar

Page 15

“I assume to keep up appearances, but who knows what goes on in that head of hers.”
“Did you start ordering her around?” Emily asked. “Maybe she just wanted to shut you up.”
Griffin shot her a droll look. “Maybe.”
Sam looked thoughtful. “You know what, Em? You’re the only one of us Finley hasn’t hit.”
The Irish girl stared at him. “I haven’t given her reason, now, have I?”
“Can we talk about something other than who Finley has and hasn’t punched and why?” Griffin asked—somewhat testily. “Like, what Dalton would want with floor plans to the Museum of Science and Invention?”
“Maybe he wants a tour,” Sam suggested. When Griffin glared at him, he went on. “Won’t Finley tell us that when she comes back? If she hasn’t decided to run away and join Dalton’s gang for real, that is.”
The pain in Griffin’s jaw increased. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his teeth were clenched. “That’s assuming Dalton trusts her so quickly with that kind of information.”
“Do you reckon she’s talked to Jasper?” Emily asked, hope in her wide eyes. “Maybe she’s found out what Dalton wants with him.”
Sam scowled and began gathering up their cards. “Or maybe she’s found out Jasper’s a crook, too.”
“Maybe,” Griffin allowed, ignoring the shocked look Emily shot him. “But I don’t think so. If Jasper was a willing party in this, Dalton never would have hired men to bring him here.”
“He went willingly enough.”
Griffin opened his mouth to debate but hesitated when he saw Emily place her small hand on top of Sam’s much larger one. “I know thinking the worst of people makes it hurt less when they disappoint you, lad, but not everything is as it seems.”
“She’s right,” Griffin said. And that was why he’d wait until he’d talked to Finley before getting too angry over the fact that she’d hit him.
Shifting uncomfortably, Sam turned his hand so that his fingers wrapped around Emily’s. Suddenly, Griffin felt like an intruder.
“Not everyone sees the good in people like you do, Emmy,” Sam said.
“She even sees the good in you” came a new voice from the door.
Griffin’s heart leaped in response. Finley. He glanced at her over his shoulder. She had changed into her own clothes and looked so completely unaffected by the evening that he thought perhaps he had only imagined seeing her at the party. But then he saw the bundle of plum-colored silk beneath her arm.
Emily bounced off the bed and came forward with an excited countenance. “Did you really hit Griffin? How’s Jasper? Did you find out what Dalton’s up to?”
Finley drew back from the smaller girl’s enthusiasm. She shot Sam a look from the corner of her eye. “Did you give her coffee again?” Then to her friend, “Yes, I hit Griffin. I’m sorry, but it was necessary. Dalton hasn’t told me much of anything, and Jasper was … quiet.”
“Quiet?” Emily’s nose wrinkled as her demeanor calmed. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
“It isn’t.” Finley turned her attention solely to Griffin. “There’s definitely something not right there. I think Dalton’s somehow forcing Jasper to work for him.”
“What kind of work?” Griffin asked, rubbing his jaw. When he noticed the flush in Finley’s cheek, he dropped his hand.
She glanced away with a shrug. “Dunno, but I’m supposed to accompany Jasper somewhere tomorrow, so I’ll hopefully have the chance to get some answers from him.”
“Or he might get some from you,” Sam cautioned. “Dalton might use him to spy on us. You don’t know that Jasper didn’t tell him who you really are.”
“You don’t trust anyone, do you?” Finley asked, incredulous.
Sam scratched his jaw. “I trust them.” He pointed at Emily and Griffin.
“Did you get a sense that Jasper has betrayed us?” Griffin asked, ignoring the fact that Sam had deliberately left Finley out. The two of them seemed to like picking on one another.
Finley shook her head. “No. He’s being used. I’m certain of it. I’m just not sure what the game is. I’m fairly sure Mei’s in the middle of it.”
“Mei?” Emily’s eyes narrowed. “The Chinese girl who was at the fight?”
And Griffin added, “Mei Xing?”
Finley nodded. “Has Jasper ever mentioned her to you?”
“Once.” He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to remember the circumstances. “I believe he had a photograph of her in his lodgings in London. I think they had been romantically involved.”
“Then it makes sense if Dalton is using her to keep Jasper in line,” Finley remarked. She shifted on her feet, her gaze not quite meeting his. “Dalton wants me to move into his house.”
It was as though the world stopped—even Emily and Sam went eerily silent. Griffin gave the words a moment to sink in and fought his immediate instinct to forbid her to leave the hotel ever again. If it was Sam in this situation, he wouldn’t be the least bit worried. Then again, Sam wasn’t really Dalton’s type.
“Are you comfortable with that?” he inquired. “Or do we need to come up with another plan?”
Was it his imagination, or did her shoulders actually relax? “I’m fine. Dalton’s flirty, but he’s more interested in what I can do for him.” Her gaze locked with Griffin’s. “Honestly.”
“But why did you hit Griffin?” Emily demanded, hands on her hips. “Why are the two of you looking at each other like that? What are we going to do about Jasper? We can’t let Finley walk into what could be a trap. What?” She turned her head to look at Sam, who had put his big hand on her shoulder.
“You have had too much coffee,” he said, taking her by the hand. “Let’s go for a bit of a walk. Get rid of some of that energy.”
She protested, but it was weak, and Sam managed to drag her from the room without much fuss. The door clicked shut behind them.
Griffin ran his hand through his hair—it must be a mess by now. No doubt it stuck up in all directions, making him look like a hedgehog. “My jaw really hurts, and this plan of yours had better work, because by tomorrow morning, I’m going to be the laughingstock of Manhattan Island.”
She winced. “I’m sorry for that, but Dalton has to believe I’m on his side. He took me there to fight anyone who got in our way. He was there when you came in. If I hadn’t hit you, he’d be suspicious.”
“I know. He would be even more suspicious once he found out it was the Duke of Greythorne who stumbled upon you. Doesn’t make my jaw ache any less.”
Finley moved toward him, a sorry expression on her pretty face. She tossed the silk gown on the bed and lifted her hand to his face. He tried not to flinch, but part of him actually expected her to haul off and cosh him again.
She noticed that he pulled away. Her mouth tightened, but she went ahead and placed her palm against his cheek. Her skin was cool; her touch seemed to ease the ache.
“Part of me likes to hit people,” she informed him as she looked him dead in the eye. “But not you. I want you to know that. I did what I thought I had to do.”
He believed her. “Did you like it?” he asked. “Stealing the plans, I mean?”
This time she withdrew from him. She dropped her hand. The ache in his jaw tripled.
“I did.” It came out as a whisper. “I didn’t want to, but I did.”
Griffin’s stomach clenched at her honesty. How was he supposed to feel about her candor? He appreciated that she’d told him the truth, but what did he do with it?
“What did you like about it?”
“The excitement. The danger.” Her eyes and cheeks seemed to brighten. “It was like when I was out on the bow of the airship, or like when we went up against The Machinist. I knew there was a chance it could go bad, but it didn’t.”
“Adrenaline,” he told her. “A perfectly normal reaction.” “You think so?”
She looked so hopeful it was hard to breathe. Griffin forced a smile. “Of course. I’ve felt the same way myself.” That was true, but not when committing a crime. Then again, he had never committed a crime, so he didn’t know if it was the same or not. It could be that Finley simply liked being … bad.
Her shoulders sagged in relief, and when she put her arms around him, he put his around her, as well.
“Thank you,” she murmured as she hugged him. “Thank you for being my friend.”
Griffin swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “I’ll always be your friend.” He meant it, and that was what made it so difficult. He would do anything for her, but if Finley gave in to the darkness inside her, he would have no choice but to stop her—even if it meant losing her forever.
Chapter 8
Jasper wasn’t really surprised to see Finley walk into Dalton’s house at five minutes to eleven the next morning. He was, however, surprised to see that she had shabby luggage and dust on her boots. Dirt was easy enough to find around these parts, especially the closer a body got to Five Points, where the grimy automaton street sweepers would be stripped down for their parts, but the Duke of Greythorne was the type of fella to share his wealth with his friends.
So he was left to reason that Griffin—or Finley—was as smart as he assumed and picked up the obviously worn items to protect the ruse that Finley was a girl looking to make a little blunt on the wrong side of the law.
Didn’t she look the part, as well, standing there in kneelength gray trousers, heavy-soled boots and a leather corset over a linen shirt.
He was plumb touched at the amount of effort that had already gone into trying to help his sorry hide. Guilty, too. She shouldn’t be involved in his mess.
“Can I help you with those, miss?” he asked as he walked toward her. He knew full well she could easily carry both bags, but showing her to her room would give them a chance to talk.
She eyed him warily. Either she was a good actress or she truly didn’t trust him any further than she could throw a buffalo. “All right.” She handed him the lighter of the two pieces. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” she said sweetly. There was a sparkle in her eye that made it impossible not to grin in response.
He tapped the brim of his hat. “Much obliged. Follow me.”
They made it perhaps two or three steps before Dalton arrived. He strutted into the foyer like a banty rooster on a spring morning, all decked out in head-to-toe gunmetalgray.
“I admire punctuality in a woman,” Dalton remarked as he joined them, his pale eyes glinting at Finley. And didn’t she look at Dalton as though he was the prettiest thing she ever saw. She wasn’t really infatuated with him, was she?
“My papa—” she said it the English way, pah-pah “—used to believe that tardiness was a sin. It only takes a few blows from a strap to knock that out of a person.”
Dalton inclined his head. “A very efficient man, your father.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.”
It was all Jasper could do not to stare at her in openmouthed amazement. He knew for a fact that this was a lie— Finley’s father had died before she was born—but his mind wanted to accept it as truth from the simple, sincere way she’d delivered it.
“I was just going to show Miss Finley to her room,” he told Dalton, hoping the other fellow would leave them alone once more.
“I can do that.” Dalton held out his hand to take the luggage from Jasper. “You go tell Little Hank to bring the carriage around. He’ll take the two of you to your destination. Shall we, Finley?”
Jasper looked at her, but Finley didn’t so much as blink in his direction. She merely smiled at Dalton as though they were the only people in the room. “Lead on, good sir.”
He watched them walk away, torn between wanting to protect her from Dalton—or perhaps protect Dalton from her—and wanting to walk out the door and run as far away as he possibly could, like a coward. Instead, he went to the kitchen, where he knew he would find Hank.
“It’s time,” he told the giant. “Dalton wants you to get the carriage.”
Little Hank, who was sitting at the table eating what appeared to be an entire apple pie in the company of a tired-looking kitchen maid, stared at him for a moment before nodding his head. “Fine.”
Jasper didn’t bother to wait for him but went outside to sit on the steps. He’d gathered other bits of the machine faster than he’d wanted, and there was only one more piece to collect after this one was recovered. He couldn’t stall much longer. Dalton had him running other “errands” for him, and each left a sour taste in his mouth. He hadn’t had to do anything serious, but standing there while Little Hank beat up a man because he hadn’t yet delivered some forged documents was bad enough.