Dearly, Beloved (44 page)

“What did he say?”

I shrugged. “ ‘The Devil keeps tigers.’ ”

“Tigers?” Pamma frowned. “Weird.”

“Tell me about it. I’m starting to think it doesn’t mean anything. Poor man’s brain is likely half mush. He hasn’t had medical care till now.”

“I wonder where he saw tigers.” Pamma lifted her head. “I mean, they’re extinct in the wild, all over the remaining world.”

“I don’t think he saw a
real
tiger,” I told her patiently. “He probably saw a painting or something. A statue. A hologram. A hallucination.
Anything
.”

“Yes, because the only place you can find a real tiger anymore is Allister’s nature preserve.” The name twisted her voice, even as she returned her attention to the screen. “They always talk in the society pages about the hunting parties that go there.”

She went silent, and my skin went very, very cold. It hit me in that instant that Mink had never said the name
Michael
. She’d said
Allister
. And there was more than one Allister in the world.

It was a throwaway comment, and I did my best not to let on. Knowing now just how much everything that happened earlier had traumatized Pam, I didn’t want to burden her. But the gears in my head started turning, to the point that I barely heard a word she said afterward. I think she was a bit miffed, but I couldn’t help it. It was a long shot, improbable, impossible. What on earth could either Allister have to do with Patient One?

Still, I
had
to get Patient One to talk.

Pam left soon afterward. I offered to go with her, to go after Lopez, but she ordered me to stay put. Willingly, for once, I obeyed. All day long I waited for a chance, a momentary lull in the guards. It never came, as they appeared for their assignments like clockwork, the previous set never departing before their relief arrived. I didn’t want them listening in.

At suppertime, just after Bram texted me to let me know he was going to head out with the group from the pub to fish for the masked men again, just as I was about to go feeble with frustration, one of the Allisters actually reached out to me through the aether.

Miss Dearly. If you have recovered, I’d like to invite you out to dinner. Perhaps we can continue our conversation like adults. Alone.

Jesus
.

I needed air. I saw myself out of Papa’s office, the main lab, and up to the deck of the
Erika
. Salty sea air blew through my curls, tickled my scalp as I made my way to the bow of the ship and leaned over the dark water. In the distance the lights of New London glowed brightly.

Staring at the message on the screen of my phone, I knew what I had to do.

When and where?

Michael responded almost instantly.

Kintzing’s, 8:00 P.M. tomorrow. My driver will pick you up.

No. I’ll meet you there.

Very well. But if anyone comes with you this time, the arrangement is off.

Closing my phone and my eyes, I turned to face the clammy breeze. I knew I was doing something stupid, but I also knew I had no choice.

I’d ignored Bram’s entreaties to be careful. I’d ignored my best friend’s pleas to be careful. I’d ignored my father’s
orders
to be careful. No way was I going to brush all of
them
off and listen to Vespertine Mink. To a
computer
.

I had to find out the truth for myself.

Nora hadn’t asked me how I planned to get home, and I hadn’t told her. She’d seemed preoccupied, and for once it worked to my advantage.

Because I didn’t want her going after Lopez. I’d already decided to do that myself.

A series of trolleys and omnibuses got me across town, their onboard advertising screens flashing information coded to the publicly accessible information in my ID chip. I pretended to be enthralled by the displays, drawn in by the promises of computer science correspondence courses and ointments formulated to deliver shinier hair. I prayed that no one would talk to me, that no one would single me out as a young lady, unchaperoned. My thoughts seemed scattered, anxious and uncatchable; my foot never stopped moving, tapping nervously under my skirt.

Yet it wasn’t until I reached my destination, standing in a puddle on a gusty, obviously moneyed street, that I began to second-guess myself. Renter though he was, the address on Lopez’s card was in an upscale part of town. A number of grand inner-city mansions marched down the road where the last bus left me, separated from one another by tall iron fences, their ornate gates
locked and monitored by cameras. The carriages that rolled past were luxury models, crafted with gorgeous flourishes along their doors and headlamps.

Despite the fact that I’d never stood on this particular street before in my life, I knew this world. The things I saw made sense; the things I saw had meaning. When I was at school I was allowed to observe this world without ever truly taking part in it. I knew I shouldn’t be there now.

Tearing my eyes away from a rich young lady’s ostentatious pink electric carriage, I forced myself to press on. I wasn’t undertaking this mad exercise for myself.

It wasn’t difficult to find the address on the card, which turned out to be a well-landscaped building complex called the Steel Center—a New Victorian architectural maze of blond rock and marble, all of it beautiful, none of it holographic. Somewhat intimidated, I found myself instinctively donning my very best schoolgirl smile as I made my way to the glass doors. The smile froze on my face as a snappily attired doorman appeared to open the door for me, tipping his hat. “Miss.”

But when I entered the lobby, I gave up my pretense, my jaw dropping. The first two stories of the building were open, an arcade of leaping iron arches and glass plates that exposed the rooms on the second floor, revealing them to be offices staffed by red-faced men and Gibson-skirted secretaries. The first floor was made up of rows of glittering shops, selling everything from fans to gloves to cigars to heavy household appliances, all of it high end. The exposed iron-and-stone columns supporting everything were decorated with gold-plated sculptures of captains of industry, chased by metallic vines twined with chains of electric lights.

I admired it all for a moment, contemplating just how quickly I ought to run away.

“May I help you?” I whirled around to find a mild-looking gentleman awaiting my response, his pomaded hair buffed to a
fine sheen. He was dressed in a black suit, and held a flat screen in his hands.

“Um …” I offered him Lopez’s pocket-softened calling card. “I’ve come to call on someone.”

“Of course.” The concierge, or whatever he was, took the card and looked at it. “Would you happen to have a card of your own I might send to the resident in question?”

“No,” I had to admit. I had a few very plain ones, but I wasn’t used to carrying them with me. I hadn’t thought to rescue them from the house.

“I see. Whom may I say is calling, then?” If the fellow was suspicious or judgmental, he never showed it. I got the feeling his expression never altered, not even should someone cause him bodily harm.

“Miss Pamela Roe. He’s a friend of the family.”

The man wrote my name down on the screen with a silver stylus kept on his watch chain, tapped a few buttons, and then waited. A small chime sounded perhaps twenty seconds later, and he returned the card to me. “Lord Lopez will come down to meet you, miss. If you’ll wait right here.” And with that he was gone.

I wondered what had just happened. As I stood there, a group of laughing ladies passed by, dressed in some of the most beautiful gowns I’d ever beheld, their fans whishing and their heavy hats bobbing dangerously on their fine little heads.

It was a few minutes before Lord Lopez joined me. When he did show up, it was via a large elevator bank directly to my right. Although he was dressed all in black, he still cut a fashionable figure, the materials used to make his clothing and accessories almost as rich and detailed as the garments themselves. In his hand, he carried a golden walking stick.

Suddenly I got it. As I stood there, staring dumbly at him, I got it. Lopez wasn’t a neighbor offering to help us out. He was
so far out of my family’s social league that the light from
his
league should take a million years to reach us. No wonder my parents were reluctant to accept his offer. They’d known what Marblanco was; they’d known about Lopez’s family. He wasn’t just a lord—he was practically a prince. We were paupers.

But I couldn’t go back now.

“Miss Roe?” He moved quickly to my side and bowed. When he opened his mouth it became clear it was fear, not politeness, that made him stand so ramrod straight this time. “Has something else happened?”

“No! Yes. I mean …” I released a breath. “I need to speak to you. It’s about my family. But it’s not an emergency.”

Looking a smidge relieved, Lopez gestured to one of the arcade hallways. “I see. Well, there’s a café over there. I would invite you up to my flat, but I fear tongues will wag as it is.”

I knew that. I’d accepted that risk, accepted the risk of traveling through the city, because I’d decided I couldn’t let Nora do this for me even if she wanted to. It was my life. My choice. And besides, as much as she had done, what could she do here? I trusted her father’s opinion. I didn’t intend to interview the man.

I intended to put him to work.

And so I followed him to the warmly decorated café, which cut across both open floors, a brass-chased counter located on each. He directed me to a high-backed wooden booth overseen by its own chandelier and offered to fetch a drink for me. I asked for cocoa. It came topped with foam and powdered chocolate in the shape of a woman’s silhouette, the rim encrusted with glittering sugar. The bone china cup was likely more expensive than any dress I’d ever owned.

Lopez sat across from me. “You shouldn’t be here without an escort,” he said. There was no censure in his voice; it was a simple statement of fact.

“I know. And I’ll leave as soon as humanly possible. But please, if you would—listen to what I have to say?”

“Of course. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say, whenever you like.”

“The thing is, I don’t know how to say it.” I hadn’t even properly thought the idea through since having it. I’d been unable to focus on it, like my brain wanted to disown the very notion it’d come up with. But after encountering my unchanged father that morning, and after learning more about Lopez and the people who might have attacked us—I’d had it. I knew I had to try something.

Like Nora had reminded me—I had to break the rules.

Lopez didn’t press me. I took a couple sips of my drink. It went down like liquid velvet and warmed my stomach. “I want you to take me to Marblanco. Alone.”

The instant I said it, I knew it was impossible. Lopez stared at me as if I’d just told him I was passionately in love with him. “Excuse me?”

Setting down my cup, I said, “It’s been five days since the bombing. My parents don’t know what to do. They’re scared. And I don’t think they’re going to take you up on your offer. The thing is—I think it’s our only chance. When I think about everything that’s happened to us, it’s all happened here in New London. I feel like this city is cursed. We’re not even safe in our own
house
.”

“Miss Roe—”

“If I go with you, if you take me to your estate—my parents will come for me. They’ll have to. And they’ll have to keep it quiet if they want to maintain my prospects. Maybe once they’re there, maybe once they
see
it, they’ll listen to reason. I know it’s risky, but I can’t think of any other way to do it.”

And it was out. I snuck a glance into Lopez’s eyes. He still appeared somewhat blasted.

“Miss Roe,” he tried again. This time, I let him speak. “If we went through with this, your reputation would be ruined. They would think … I don’t even want to say it.”

I felt myself blushing even as I said, “And your reputation, too. Which is why you have every right in the world to refuse me, my lord.”

“Don’t call me that.” Lopez looked down at his hands. “And honestly, I’m not worried about myself. I’ve been the subject of gossip almost my entire life, and it lost its sting years ago.”

“I’m willing to face that shame if it will get my family out of this city. I made that decision before I got here. I was never meant to be a lady anyway. I’m a girl of no station, no fortune—if I fall, the drop won’t be very far. And I’d die for my family—a little social drop is nothing.”

“Which is quite noble of you.” Lopez lifted his head. “But I’m not going to be accused of kidnapping, or worse, Miss Roe. I’m not about to spirit you away in the middle of the night to a broken-down mansion. And I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but—for that, I am sorry.”

That was the end of it, then. My eyes started to tear up, but not out of anger at him—only because another avenue, crazy as it was, had been closed off. “I had to try. Thank you for listening.”