The Girl In The Clockwork Collar (12 page)

Dalton immediately slowed his pace. “You’re right.” Then he snagged two glasses of champagne from a footman on his way to the ballroom and gave her one.

Because of her experience with wealthy houses, Finley had a fairly good idea where a gentleman’s study might be located. There were few enough people outside the ballroom that no one really noticed that they were peeking in rooms, but enough so that they didn’t stand out as the only couple.

The second door they opened proved to be the one they were looking for. Dalton shot her a triumphant glance. “Get in.”

“You say the sweetest things,” she cooed and slipped into the room. He followed and closed the door behind them with a soft click.

There wasn’t much light in the room—a lamp on the desk and a sconce on the wall—but it was enough. The room was large, definitely masculine with its oak wainscoting and dark green paper. The desk was huge, and a massive leather chair sat behind it.

“What are we looking for?” Finley asked, voice low.

“Floor plans,” he replied, riffling through a stack of papers. “They will be large sheets, either folded or rolled.”

She opened the top drawer of the cherrywood desk. “If they’re important, wouldn’t they be in a safe?”

“They’re only important to me.” He didn’t look up from his search but moved on to the other set of drawers. “To anyone else, they’re just pictures of a building.”

She wanted to ask what he wanted them for but didn’t want to give him reason to be suspicious of her. Instead, she kept pawing through the drawers.

“I like you, Finley,” Dalton commented, glancing up. “You don’t ask a lot of questions.”

So curbing her curiosity had been a good thing. She shrugged. “Part of my charm.” Something at the bottom of the drawer caught her eye, and she pulled it out. It was several large, folded sheets of paper with diagrams on each sheet. “Is this it?”

Dalton took them from her and unfolded them. She watched as pleasure softened his face. “They are indeed. Well done.”

She was a fool for praise and preened accordingly. Her enjoyment was short-lived, however, when they heard the doorknob turn, and the door started to creep open. They were caught.

The way Finley saw it, they had two choices—stay and pretend to be lovers sneaking off for a bit of privacy as Dalton had joked or make a run for it. Since they had what they came for, their best bet was to try to get out of there with as little fuss as possible.

“Go.” She jerked her head toward the opening door. “I’ll take care of it.”

Dalton stared at her for a split second before whirling toward the door. He pulled it the rest of the way open and brushed past the intruder. “You shouldn’t just walk in, son,” he said in a haughty tone. “You never know what you might see.” Then he disappeared from her sight.

Finley followed after him, but then the intruder turned his head, and his gaze locked with hers. She groaned. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

She forced a smile. “Hullo, Griffin.”

He should have stayed in the ballroom—then he never would have known that Finley had snuck into the party with Reno Dalton. Instead, Griffin had fled the crowd to avoid interacting with Miss Lydia Astor-Prynn, a very determined young woman bent on landing herself a duke. The fact that he was only eighteen and had no intention of marrying for many more years seemed to have no effect on her. She’d been a second shadow for most of the evening, and people were starting to whisper.

Other mamas had been throwing their daughters at him, as well. It was like he was a starving dog, and everyone was trying to force-feed him a steak. If he’d stayed there, he would have continued to feel like a piece of meat, but at least he wouldn’t be staring at a guilty-looking Finley.

She tucked a strand of black-streaked honey hair, which had fallen loose, behind her ear. “I reckon I’m the last person you expected to see here.”

“You’ve got that right,” he replied as he approached her, still frowning. “What are you doing here?”

When she moved around to the front of the desk, he saw that she was wearing an evening gown that fit her almost perfectly and made her skin look as smooth as cream. She looked lovely. Then again, he was beginning to think the girl could wear a sackcloth and he’d still fancy her.

“Committing robbery. It’s a test to prove myself to Dalton,” she told him. “I didn’t know this was the party you were invited to.”

Griffin tried not to stare at her bare shoulders—he had seen them before, but with her all dressed up, looking like a debutante, it seemed different. “Robbery? Good Lord, Fin! What if you get caught?”

A lopsided smile curved her lips. “I have been caught—by you.”

His scowl returned. “Did Dalton give you the dress?”

She flounced the skirt of the gown. “Yeah. Not bad, eh? He picked it out.”

Griffin’s eyes closed. Silently, he swore. “What did you steal?” Since Dalton had whipped by him like the house was on fire, he determined that the outlaw must have whatever they had been looking for in his possession.

“Floor plans for the New York Museum of Science and Invention.”

He cleared his throat. “What does he want with those?”

“Dunno. As soon as I find out, I’ll let you know. I think this will secure me a place within the gang.”

She didn’t have to sound so bloody pleased about it, though he had to admit he was proud of her. “Have you spoken to Jasper?”

“Not yet, but I will. He hasn’t ratted me out, so I’m pretty certain he’s not with Dalton of his own choice.”

Griffin rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t like this.”

Talking her out of this was not an option, not if they were going to help Jasper—or determine if Jasper even needed their help. Her plan was working. Still, Griff wished there was another way. If she was caught, arrested … He didn’t know if even he could help her. Worse, there was a slight gleam in her eye that worried him. Was she enjoying this bit of crime and intrigue?

Was her darker side going to prove to be dominant over the light?

“It’s getting late,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “I need to get back before Dalton starts to wonder where I am.”

He nodded. “How will you leave?”

“Out the front door. I doubt the carriage will still be waiting. I’ll have to get a cab.”

“A hack?” He didn’t mean to sound alarmed. “A hired driver could tell police about the girl he delivered to Reno Dalton’s doorstep.”

Finley shook her head. “I’ll get out a block earlier.”

He didn’t like not being in control. He didn’t like not being able to protect her—never mind that she was more than capable of protecting herself. But instead of ranting about it, he only nodded. “I’ll check the corridor.”

“Griffin, you can’t be seen helping me.”

He didn’t listen. Instead, he went to the door and opened it just enough to peek out into the corridor. Miss Astor-Prynn was headed in their direction. “Damnation,” he muttered. “You’d better hide. We’ve company coming.”

“I have a better idea.” Her voice came from directly behind him.

He turned his head. “What’s that?”

He barely saw her fist before it connected with his jaw. Pain exploded in his skull, and then everything went black.

Finley caught Griffin as he fell and lowered him gently to the carpet. “Forgive me,” she whispered, but he was out cold.

She leaped to her feet, gathered her skirts and bolted from the room. Her shoulder collided with a pretty but snooty-looking girl who made some snide remark. Finley really didn’t care what this bit of fluff thought of her. What concerned her was what Griffin was going to think of her once he woke up.

Actually, at that moment, what concerned her most was getting out of this bloody house before the police were called. Sometimes—most times—she enjoyed a good fight, but she didn’t want to call any more attention to herself than she had to. Plus, Griffin would be ridiculed for being knocked out by a girl, so the less people who knew about that the better.

She’d only done it so he wouldn’t try to help her and cause trouble for himself. She’d brought a far bit of it down on him in London and had no desire to do the same to him now.

Thankfully, the loud music would mask any noise she made. Still, there were a few guests who stopped to stare as she raced by them, skirts hiked up around her knees.

At the top of the stairs, she leaped into the air, dropped in a flutter of petticoat and silk, and landed in a crouch at the bottom, the jolt reverberating in her shins. Then she sprang up, toward the door. Angry voices rang out behind her. Someone shouted, “Stop her!”

The poor footman tried to oblige, but she pushed him aside. The automaton next to him wasn’t programmed for security, so it didn’t even move.

Down the steps she ran, into the night. A steam carriage passed by, and she ran for it, hopping easily onto its back and clinging to the bar. She couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder at the small crowd gathered in front of the house, spilling down the steps to the street. A tall man shook his fist at her.

Exhilarated by her escape, Finley blew him a kiss. She rode the carriage as far as she could down 5
^th
Avenue before hopping off. She bought a meat pie from a vendor on the corner of 42
^nd
and gave the money she would have used for a hack to a beggar-woman who had a child with a tarnished brass prosthetic leg. The woman hugged her, and Finley almost gagged at the smell of her, poor wretch. She made sure the mother bought a pie for herself and the boy before she moved on.

It was a beautiful night, and the walk soothed her heightened senses. She walked the rest of the way to Dalton’s house with a spring in her step and a full belly.

She wasn’t certain, but for a second, she thought she saw a man on the street ahead of her—one wearing a long coat and a cowboy hat. Whip Kirby again? Whoever he was, he was gone in a blink, and Finley was left wondering if maybe she’d imagined him.

It had been fun sneaking into the party and stealing those papers. Hitting Griffin was a bit of a low point, but at least she’d had the chance to tell him just what Dalton had been after before she did it. She could only hope that his pride could handle the ribbing he might get. Outside of that … Well, she couldn’t dwell on it.

If nothing else, Dalton would have to be convinced she was a worthy addition to his gang.

So it was with a smug smile on her face that she strolled into Dalton’s parlor, heavy skirts swishing around her legs. Dalton was there, as well as Jasper and Mei. Mei had changed into a simple blouse and skirt, but she still had that strange collar around her throat. Now that she looked at it, it appeared to have cogs and gears in it—as though it were machine instead of jewelry. Maybe it was. For a second, she had the macabre thought that perhaps the collar was the only thing keeping the girl’s head attached to her neck.

She’d seen people do some pretty scary things in the name of science, but she was still tempted to poke at the collar, just to see what would happen. She resisted the temptation.

“Miss Finley,” Dalton said with an arched brow. “It is good to see you.”

She grinned. “Sorry it took me so long. I had to hoof it part of the way.”

“You dealt with our visitor?”

“He’ll have a sore jaw tomorrow, and bruised pride, but nothing too serious.”

“Meanwhile, I escaped with the papers relatively unnoticed.” He flashed her an appreciative smile. “I’m much obliged, Miss Finley.”

“You’re welcome. May I ask what you’re going to do with them?”

Dalton was still smiling as he set aside his cup of coffee. “You may, but I’m not inclined to answer just yet.”

Her spine stiffened. “I thought I’ve proved I can be trusted.”

Dalton’s lips curved in a manner meant to mollify. He could probably charm his way out of dying. “You did a good job, and I’m impressed. I’d like for you to join my gang. Do that, and I might see fit to start trusting you with important information.”

She shrugged. She didn’t like it, but if she wanted in, she’d have to accept it. “Fine. What’s next?”

No one had ever stared at her with quite the same intensity as Dalton. Under those sharp brows of his, icy-blue eyes gazed at her as though trying to look right through her.

“You know, I could always have a photograph taken, then you can stare at that as long as you want,” she informed him.

Dalton smiled, then turned his attention away from her and fixed it on Jasper, who was so quiet she’d almost forgotten he was in the room. That wasn’t like him. Mei had been silent, as well; the pair of them acted like children who knew to be seen and not heard.

“I want you to accompany my friend Jasper on an errand tomorrow. Make certain he gets the job done and return with him. Be here by eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.”

When Finley’s gaze locked with Jasper’s, she saw all she needed to see. He might have made some bad decisions in his life, same as her, but there was no way he was part of Dalton’s scheme by his own free will. Tomorrow, if she did what Dalton asked, she might discover just what the devil was going on.

She shrugged again. “All right. Eleven it is.”

Dalton raised his cup. “Bring your belongings. You’ll live here from now on out.”

It was only for a split second, but she froze—and Dalton saw it. She narrowed her eyes. “What’s the rent?”

He took a sip of coffee and set the cup on the table once more. “Relax, darlin’. There’s no catch. You’re part of my crew now—my family. You live with me.”

It would make getting information to Griffin, Emily and Sam that much more difficult, but she’d have her portable telegraph, and she might be able to sneak out on occasion. Besides, this is what they wanted. This would put her in a position to help Jasper.

Still, it wouldn’t do to look too happy about it. “Just so we’re clear, I won’t abide any improper behavior.”

“Improper behavior?”
He mimicked her accent in such an awful way she wanted to slap him on behalf of Queen Victoria. “Sweetheart, I won’t deny that you’re the kind of gal who sparks my tinder, but you’re not here for my entertainment. I can get that elsewhere. You just do what I say, and we’ll get along fine.”