Moonlight & Mechanicals (3 page)

Liam nodded his agreement. “I’d grumble about the wastefulness of all this wealth on display in the ballroom when so many are starving not far away, but you know about that better than most.”

“I do.” She spun easily through the motions of the dance, following him as if she were an extension of his arm. “And I also know how hard the Lake family works to help others. This ball is part of their efforts—maintaining the social standing and power to see that good is done, by their votes in Parliament, by the money they raise for charities, by the Order itself. That’s the only reason I’m here. I understand the purpose. Other parties…” She wrinkled her nose and Liam chuckled.

“I know. I’m just out of sorts because I’m here under orders. When I return you to your faithful swain MacKay, will you tell him and your brother I need to speak with him in the card room sometime tonight?”

“Of course.” Her heart plummeted. He was only dancing with her to send a message to Connor? Or to make a showing before he disappeared? Catching the attention of Liam McCullough was going to take significantly more work than she’d anticipated.

Perhaps she should have padded her corset.

They finished the set in silence. “Thank you,” she mumbled and curtseyed as the dance concluded.

Liam bowed, but left her without another word—or a backward glance.

She danced the next set with Connor, who persisted on making calf’s eyes at her the entire time. Drat it, she didn’t want to hurt him, but she was going to have to discourage him somehow. How to redirect his attentions toward someone else without breaking his heart? Perhaps Nell would know. Wink’s next-younger sister was much more fluent in human relations. Possibly because Nell was a genuinely kind person—far more so than Wink, who tended not to trust and had little tolerance for hypocrisy or stupidity. Since Nell was studying music at the Royal Academy, she would be staying in London when the others left. Wink could easily corner her for a heart-to-heart.

Come to think of it, she’d done little more than wave at her sister in passing since she’d gotten to town a month ago. She’d been so caught up in her new position and preparing for her talk that she’d taken little time to catch up. There was no getting around it—she was a horrible excuse for a sister or even a person. Really, Connor deserved far better than she.

And Liam doesn’t?

Clearly that line of rationalization required a little more work.

As she danced with one acquaintance after another, she spotted Lord Eustace watching her more than once, his expressionless, dark-haired friend by his side. The small hairs on the back of her neck prickled.
Don’t let him get to you
. He was a lecher and rude, but she wasn’t frightened. She was surrounded by friends and could defend herself if the need arose. Still, she’d avoid being alone with the creature and she’d warn her sister to do the same.

She sent Connor off to Liam in the card room and danced with Tom, Kendall, Kendall’s father, the duke of Trowbridge, and a couple other gentlemen in between. By the time the supper dance was called, Wink was dewy and exhausted. “Let’s walk,” she said to Connor who’d returned to claim her for the dance and the subsequent meal. The musicians struck up an energetic reel.

“Capital.” Connor took her arm and led her out onto the spacious glassed-in terrace at the rear of the mansion. “I wanted to talk with you tonight anyway.”

A trickle of dread crept down her spine—or maybe it was just sweat. Either way, she braced herself to hear something she wasn’t going to like.

“Winifred, you must know how much I admire you,” he began. To her horror, he dropped to one knee in front of her, looking up at her with an expression of fervent adoration and hope. “I find you the ideal specimen of feminine beauty. Your hair, the color of burnished copper, your changeable eyes, such a sweet mirror of your generous soul…”

Stop. Please.
She held up a hand, but Connor simply took it and kissed it through her glove. Now what was she supposed to do?

“Your graceful form, your exquisite face. Your kindness and care for others—I love each and every little thing about you.”

No, no, no!
Wink looked around, hoping to escape, but of course she couldn’t. Connor was a family friend. He deserved at least a considerate, thoughtful rejection.

Considerate and thoughtful weren’t her best attributes. She had no idea what to say when he went on. “Winifred Hadrian, beloved, will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”

“Oh, Connor.” She bit her lip, searching for the proper words. “You are the best of men and a dear, dear friend. But I don’t love you—not like that. You’re Tom’s closest companion, just as Melody is mine. I think of you as another brother, not as a husband.” Connor’s younger sister Melody had been another of the few female engineering students at Lovelace College and was, indeed, Wink’s closest friend outside her family.

“Perhaps if you set your mind to it, that could change.” He stayed on one knee, clutching at her hands. “Please, my love, I adore you. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Wink shook her head. “I’ve tried, Connor. Honestly. I know you will make some lucky girl a marvelous husband, but she isn’t me. You deserve someone sweet, ladylike and even-tempered, not a woman with my temper or my shady background.”

“This isn’t because of my uncle, is it? I’d understand, if it was.” He clung to her hands. “It destroys me, knowing that he hurt you. I still can’t understand how he succumbed to evil like he did.”

“No. What Gideon did is on his head and his alone. I’d never tar the rest of your family with the same brush.” Years ago, when she was just settling into the Hadrian household, Connor’s uncle had worked with vampyres and kidnapped Wink, tried to use her to further a twisted plan for immortality. “Any more than you’d condemn me for your uncle’s death. It was my father who ended Gideon’s life, after all.”

Connor brushed that aside. “Then at least promise me you’ll think about it. We’ll get on famously. You’ll see that if you look closely enough. We have so much in common. Think of it, darling. Our families would be ecstatic.”

They would, without a doubt. The MacKays and Hadrians had a friendship that transcended generations. A marital tie would only strengthen that connection. Still, Wink shook her head. “I know they would, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to give you false hope. I just can’t imagine us together in a romantic sense.” Connor didn’t appeal to her at all on a physical level, but she couldn’t quite come out and say that. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. He just wasn’t—her mind veered from thinking of a specific name—the right man for her.

“Just agree to think about it for a while—a week, perhaps. Can you give me that much?”

Wink squeezed her eyes shut, hating to see such a proud, fine man begging on his knees.

“A week then,” she said. The words tumbled out, though she hadn’t meant to say them, hadn’t meant to leave him any hope. “But, Connor,
please
don’t get your hopes up. The answer will still be no.”

“I have seven days to change your mind.” All smiles now, he bounded to his feet and engulfed her in a bear hug. “Thank you, my darling. Thank you.” With that, he pressed a kiss on her lips.

Wink’s eyes widened in shock. She’d been kissed before, but never with such enthusiasm. Skill, too, she had to admit as she stood passive in his arms, too stunned to react. But technical proficiency aside, the kiss did nothing to make her melt, the way she felt when she simply looked at… Damn and blast, she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about
him.

Steady now, she put her hands on Connor’s chest and shoved, none too gently. He backed away with a mild look of horror on his classically handsome face. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.” Wink straightened her puffed sleeves where he’d crushed them with his hands. “Good night, Connor. I’ll hold to my promise and think about what you said. But you need to reconcile yourself to the fact that my answer is still going to be no.”

Chapter Two

Liam dropped as far back into the stand of potted orange trees as possible. Listening to poor MacKay’s humiliation made him feel like a heel, but not as much as the traitorous part of his mind that rejoiced at seeing Wink turn the other man down.

And yet—Liam wanted her to be happy. She deserved a husband who would appreciate her. Connor was a good man, if young yet. He knew Wink’s background and didn’t give a damn. He’d treat her well—hell, the pup practically worshipped the ground she walked on, which meant Liam wouldn’t have to kill him. Maybe Liam ought to be encouraging the match. That would at least remove her from temptation. One thing he did respect was the institution of marriage—which was why he had no intention of entering it himself. Ever.

When Wink vanished back into the ballroom, and Connor leaned over the railing, a look of utter confusion and desolation on his face, Liam took two cheroots and a match from his pocket and approached the rail.

“You’re going about it all wrong, you know.” He lit the two thin cigars and handed one to the other man. Oh, hell, when had he decided to play the role of advisor to the lovelorn? This wasn’t going to end well. Despite his best intentions, though, the words kept coming from his mouth. “If you want to woo Winifred, don’t talk about her beauty or grace. She couldn’t care a fig about those. Think, man. What makes her unique? What makes her the woman you want to marry? Praise her brains, her strength with a sword, her ability to fix any machine that’s ever been made. Let her know you see her for who she is, not just the pretty social façade she’s forced herself to cultivate for her family’s sake.”

“But…” Connor took a long drag off the cigar. “Don’t all girls want to hear about how pretty they are? My sisters are both bloody brilliant, too, but both of them still love jewels and flowers and poems as much as the next girl.”

“Your sisters have never been forced to live by their wits.” Liam had met the two MacKay girls, one Wink’s age, the other a few years older, on a handful of occasions, but he couldn’t remember their names, or even much about them. He thought the younger one was an engineer like Wink, while the elder was a doctor, who had recently married up in Scotland. “Also, I suspect Wink’s affinity with machines goes beyond brilliance, and borders on a supernatural gift. She’s had to struggle for that, much more than your sisters have. Moreover, she’s had to literally fight for her life as well as those of her younger siblings. You need to accept that although she has similarities to your sisters, there are also differences.”

“You’re right.” Connor sighed and perched, half sitting on the stone railing around the terrace. “I know some of what she went through, and that it’s only made her stronger. How can you
not
fall in love with a woman like that, I’d like to know?”

Indeed
. Liam supposed if he was capable of love, he’d have done so himself. A twinge in his stomach made him shy away from examining that thought too closely. Wink wanted to marry and she deserved a good man who would value her properly, even if the idea made Liam want to howl. He nodded at Connor. “Then tell her that. Let her know you see her for who she is, and appreciate those characteristics that make her unique.”

Connor nodded, a slow smile dawning on his face. “Of course. You’re absolutely right. Why didn’t I see that before?”

“God only knows. Now, what is your next step?”

“Well, I’d planned to send her roses in the morning. Or orchids, perhaps, to emphasize her individuality.”

Liam shook his head. “Have you been listening to me at all? Don’t send her roses. Or orchids or daisies or violets, either. Send her tools. Books on science and engineering. Tickets to a technology exhibition. Better yet, find something broken and take it to her to fix.”

“Send a lady a broken gift?” The younger man’s lips twitched with humor. “It sounds absurd, but I begin to see where you’re going with this. You’re bloody brilliant, McCullough.” He pumped Liam’s hand enthusiastically. “Are you sure you haven’t considered making a run at Wink yourself? It sounds like you’ve spent some time thinking about how to court her.”

Liam shrugged as if his gut wasn’t tying itself in knots. “I like her, true enough. Her father’s a friend of mine, and I admire her spirit. But marriage isn’t in the cards for me, and she doesn’t deserve anything less. So wed her, with my blessing, if she’ll have you. Give her the half dozen children she won’t admit to wanting.” He’d seen her with her youngest siblings. There was no doubt she had a strong maternal streak. Another reason for Liam to stay away from her. Children were not in his plans, now or ever.

“Half dozen?” Connor shook his head. “Unlikely. I think your friendship with the Hadrians has colored your perceptions of the Order. We’re not a fertile lot. Three offspring is a rare occurrence, any more than that unheard of. Most of the time, Knights sire no more than one or two. It’s believed to be a side effect of the power running though the bloodlines. Wouldn’t want there to be too many of us running around England.”

“But the Hadrians have four natural children.” Liam paused. “Oh, I see. Caroline’s faerie blood counteracts Merrick’s—err, issues.” Wink’s adoptive mother was part leannan-sidhe, or love faerie. Even now, as a happily married mother, men swarmed around her on the dance floor, earning Merrick’s displeasure. While Liam didn’t know much about the sidhe, it made sense that fertility magick might be part of the genetic package for that particular breed.

“That’s Sir Merrick’s supposition,” Connor agreed. “So no, any wife of mine will be lucky to have more than one. But I think Wink would be happy with that. Or we could adopt more, I suppose. It certainly worked for the Hadrians.”

“Well, there you go then. That’s the kind of creative thinking she’ll appreciate.” Liam stubbed out his cigar and clapped Connor on the back. “Problem solved. Now all you have to do is win the girl.”

Connor groaned. “
All
I have to do, he says…”

* * *

The next morning, Wink dressed in a simple dark skirt and shirtwaist, leaving the hoops at home, to see her parents off at the airship field. After waving good-bye, she set out in the family’s plainest carriage—an actual horse-drawn conveyance—with a stout driver and sturdy footman. Since it was London, of course coachman and horses wore breathing masks. It made Wink feel old to see the sad changes that had befallen the city in just the past decade and it was worse in the less affluent parts of town. Nonetheless, she had a visit to make before going into her work at the Order’s headquarters.

She wasn’t worried about heading into the slums. She’d grown up here. Furthermore, most of the Hadrians’ servants had some training as bodyguards, particularly Debbins, the coachman who came to London whenever any of the family was here, and Watkins, this particular footman, who traveled with Wink and her maid, Libby, wherever they went. He was the cousin of Bert Johnson, now the under-butler, who’d helped rescue Wink long ago, and had subsequently married Sally, the family’s head nursery maid. The Hadrian staff had grown by leaps and bounds over the years along with the family, but most of the newer employees had been recruited by the older ones, specifically chosen for their abilities to cope in a less-than-normal household. Though Debbins was in his fifties, Wink trusted him and Watkins to watch her back as they drove into the worst parts of London.

Wapping.

The place where Wink had spent roughly the middle third of her life. She wiped the grime from the coach window with the lap blanket she wasn’t using, and looked out at the streets she’d once called home.

She ought to feel nostalgic, perhaps, but she didn’t miss it, not one stinking little bit. A few people had been kind to her, so yes, she occasionally thought of them. One such person was the purpose of today’s visit. Every time Wink came to town, she made a point to call on Mrs. Miller, the woman who had probably saved her life.

“Thank you, Watkins.” She allowed him to help her down from the coach, though she certainly didn’t need the assistance. She’d learned to accept and appreciate courtesy since becoming a Hadrian. “You can wait with Debbins and the carriage if you like.” No harm was going to come to her in the tea shop. “I’m sure Mrs. Miller will send someone out with a mug and a bite.”

“That would be right nice, Miss Wink. Mrs. Miller’s shortbread is the best I’ve ever had, at least in London.” The footman held the shop door for Wink, saw her inside and then retreated to help guard the horses and coach, both of which could be stolen in a heartbeat in this part of town. Less than a decade ago, Wink might have been one of the thieves. Coming back always reminded her of just how lucky she was.

Inside, the familiar scents of oolong, Earl Grey and fresh scones brought back waves of memory. The shop was tiny, consisting of a few shelves filled with inexpensive pewter or earthenware teapots, strainers, tins, mugs and bins of loose tea, while half the space was devoted to six wrought-iron tables where customers could sit and have a cup of tea and one of the pastries Mrs. Miller baked in back. About half the tables were occupied this morning. One held a trio of elderly women, knitting and gossiping as they sipped. Wink smiled. That same trio had been coming here when she lived above the shop, though in those days there had been four, and their hair had been just going gray, rather than mostly white.

A pair of storekeepers chatted at another table, and a young couple—perhaps a clerk and a shop girl, made calves’ eyes at each other over a shared scone at the third. As the bell tinkled over Wink’s head, announcing her arrival, a plump woman with steel-gray hair and a flour-dusted apron bustled out of the kitchen in back.

“Winnie, as I live and breathe. Aren’t you a sight?” Agnes Miller drew Wink into a warm hug. She was the only living soul who got away with calling Wink
Winnie
. Her voice still had the lilt of her native Ireland, though she’d been here in Wapping for more than twenty years. “Look at you, all grown and ladylike. Have you found a husband yet, girl? You’re not getting any younger.”

“No, not since you asked me six months ago,” Wink said on a laugh. She thought briefly about her proposal from Connor the night before. Mrs. Miller would call her mad for refusing an honorable offer from a future baronet. “It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Miller. All the machines in working order? Is there anything for me to fix while I’m here?”

“Not a thing, dearie. That nice young man who comes around keeps everything almost as well as you did.” Years ago, Merrick had arranged a regular mechanic to stop by, since he’d, as he put it, deprived the woman of Wink’s services. Mrs. Miller still boasted the best-automated tea shop in Wapping, just as she’d done when she traded Wink and the others rooms above the shop in return for cleaning and maintenance. “And Nellie came by just last month. Grown into a beauty, she has, just like you.”

After agreeing that her sister was certainly beautiful, Wink studied her friend’s face. The lines that had developed gradually over the years seemed to have doubled in the last six months, and the dark circles beneath Mrs. Miller’s deep-set eyes stood out starkly against a paler-than-usual complexion. Worse, if Wink wasn’t mistaken, those were tear tracks in the dusting of flour on Mrs. Miller’s cheeks. “Then what’s wrong? I know there’s something. How can I help?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Mrs. Miller wrung her hands in her apron but shook her head, looking up at Wink with a forced smile. “Don’t mind my worrying. Come on in back and have a nice cup of the new orange pekoe.”

“That sounds like the best offer I’ve had all day.” Wink followed Mrs. Miller back through the tea room, pausing as the other woman stopped to check on the customers at the tables. When the two men left, Wink helped clear the table without so much as thinking about it. Her elevated status in the world hadn’t turned her into a snob. Carrying the dirty dishes, the two women went into the kitchen.

After sending a boy of about ten out to deliver tea and shortbread to Debbins and Watkins, Mrs. Miller sent her other helper, a girl of maybe twelve, out to mind the shop. “Their parents used to run the little cobbler shop around the corner, but they both died in last winter’s influenza outbreak. Your old room was empty, so they help out here for room and board.” She poured tea for Wink and herself, and they both sat at the small corner table, nibbling on scones with marmalade.

“I remember the cobblers. I’m sorry to hear they passed. But that’s not what’s bothering you.” Wink looked her former landlady in the eye. “Tell me. And don’t try to fob me off.”

Mrs. Miller sighed and pushed her untouched scone around on her plate. “It’s Eamon,” she finally said, naming her only son, who was a merchant marine. “His ship came in two days ago. He sent a lad around from the dock, saying he’d be here for supper, but he never made it. I sent a message to his ship this morning. His captain hasn’t seen him since that first night.”

Wink had met Eamon Miller a time or two while she’d lived here. He’d seemed a nice enough sort, a big bluff sailor, who thought the world of his mother, and had been kind enough to the waifs she occasionally took under her wings. His behavior must be unusual if Mrs. Miller was this upset about it. “Does he have a lady-friend, perhaps, who he might have stopped to visit on his way home? If he’s been out at sea for a while…” Wink could see how a mother might not be the first port of call, so to speak.

“His wife and kiddies are up in Liverpool,” Mrs. Miller said. “He’d just come from there. Not one to have a piece on the side, my Eamon.”

So much for that thought. Wink sipped her tea and tried to think of possibilities, other than the obvious. Wapping wasn’t a nice part of town, especially right by the docks. Shanghaiing did happen, as well as more straightforward robbery and murder. If someone had killed him for his wallet and watch, then tossed his body in the Thames, odds were, he’d never be found.

On the other hand, if a body
had
been found, Wink knew Mrs. Miller would rather know than spend the rest of her life in the dark. “Come take a ride with me.” She reached across to squeeze the older woman’s hand. “I know someone who might be able to help.”