The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Box Set

by Kara Jorgensen

  Nadir rose to his feet, tucking his injured arm close as he looked around the gnarled trunk. In the absolute blackness enveloping the woods, it was impossible to tell if Purcell was gone. A shiver passed through him. It didn’t matter; Nadir had to get to Brasshurst whether Purcell was there or not. Holding tight to his cane-sword, he inched his bloodied arm toward the pocket where his talisman had once been. He pulled his hand back, taking his breath away with a sharp pain. His luck had run out. Drawing in a deep breath, he sprinted toward the manor.

  He hoped to God they were still awake. He could scarcely make out his hand in front of his face, but the light in the lower windows was clear. Skirting the edge of the orangery, Nadir stared at the thick, murky glass. There was no way he could break it with his injured arm. As he reached the house’s stone facade, he smiled at his fortune. Sitting in his dressing gown only feet from the window was Lord Dorset.

  ***

  Eilian whipped around at the sound of frantic rapping at the drawing room window. Dropping his letter to David Hogarth, he locked eyes with the ashen face peering in through the glass. For a moment, he wondered if he had nodded off. Then, the sodden creature stepped closer, and he could make out Nadir Talbot’s long hair and full lips. He leapt from the sofa and pulled open the mullioned window with a burst of wind that nearly swept his letter into the grate.

  “Mr. Talbot, what the devil are you doing here?” Eilian asked, his eyes roaming from the writer’s torn shirt to the twigs and sprigs of thorny leaves entangled in his hair. “What happened? I thought you were in—”

  “I was. I will answer any questions, but please, let me in, Lord Dorset.”

  He opened his mouth to ask why he hadn’t come to the front door, but upon seeing Nadir’s pleading eyes, he pushed the ottoman in front of the window.

  “I’m going to need a little help, I’m afraid.”

  Climbing onto the footstool, Eilian held out his hand. Tossing his sword in ahead of him, Nadir wrapped his arm around Lord Dorset’s shoulders and allowed the nobleman to pull him over the high sill. Nadir groaned through clenched teeth as he straightened and stepped into the warm room. Even with his hand clamped over the wound, blood ran down his arm, puddling at the edge of the carpet.

  The nobleman’s eyes trailed to the deep tear in Nadir’s sleeve, careful not to look too closely. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ve had another run-in with a bullet.”

  “I can send Patrick to fetch the doctor.”

  “Don’t!” When the earl eyed him suspiciously, he added, “He can’t know I’m here. I just need a place to hide for a little while. I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “Mr. Talbot, what is going on?”

  Nadir reached for the scrapes across his neck. Standing in front of the fire, his body jerked against the cold where it lingered in his hair and down his back, trapped between layers of fabric. How must he look to the earl? Covered in dirt, bloodied, and wielding a cane-sword like some noble-savage. Why should anyone believe him?

  “Sergeant Purcell is trying to kill me.”

  “What? Why would he do that?”

  “Because he killed Randall Nash and he knows Lady Dorset isn’t going to let this go. Someone told him she was getting a lawyer for me—which I still need to thank her for—and he probably realized the best way to have the case swept under the rug would be to have the only suspect die. I couldn’t have written it better.”

  Nadir let out a bitter laugh. It was all so absurd. No wonder the earl was shaking his head. “I know you don’t believe me, but look,” he added as he pulled down his soggy collar to reveal raw rope burns and the beginnings of bruises. “Purcell did that. Tried to string me up right in the cell, so I ran. What else could I do? Then, he shot at me. It nearly hit home, too. Luckily, I turned in time.”

  “Good Lord,” the earl whispered, drawing back.

  “I know you have no desire to harbor a fugitive, Lord Dorset, but I need a place to stay until I can get out of the country in the morning. After that, I will never darken your door again.”

  Eilian nodded and motioned for Nadir to follow him down the hall. “Hadley won’t be pleased to hear that. There is no way she would let you flee the country without clearing your name.”

  “What?”

  Watching Nadir stop mid-step, a weary smile crossed Eilian’s features. “Mr. Talbot, you must know you have my wife’s unwavering support. There is no way she would let Sergeant Purcell get away with dragging you back to jail or tarnishing your reputation further. When she finds out he did that to you,” he continued, pointing to the hidden wound, “I don’t know if I will be able to keep her from going to the constabulary in Poole until morning. Either way, you have our protection.”

  A knot in Nadir’s chest, half from pain and the rest from overwhelming fear, loosened. His own cousin hadn’t fully believed him, but Lady Dorset did. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You can thank her when you see her. I’m sure Hadley will let you stay in one of the guest rooms. In the meantime, you should at least have someone dress your wound. Are you certain you don’t want us to get the doctor?”

  “Yes, your lordship. I’m afraid Purcell will find out and—”

  Nadir froze at the shrill peel of the doorbell.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Blotting a Stain

  The color drained from Nadir Talbot’s face. Swallowing hard, he tightened his grip on the ivory handle of his blade. He licked his dry lips and rasped, “He’s here.”

  Eilian’s eyes flicked between the front door and the bloodied man standing behind him, his left arm hanging useless at his side. “Maybe not.”

  “Who else could it be? I can’t imagine you have late-night visitors often.”

  “Right. Just stay right here while I find Hadley. She doesn’t like surprises.”

  Crossing the hall, Eilian spotted his wife racing down the steps to answer the door. The bell rang again, followed by the heavy thunk of a fist.

  “For God’s sake.”

  “Had! Had, wait!” he cried in a harsh whisper.

  Hadley stopped mid-step, raising her henna brows at Eilian’s pallor. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Purcell. He’s here looking for Nadir.”

  “But he’s in jail. That man is a bigger fool than I thought. I will set him straight.”

  Catching her wrist, Eilian pulled her close and whispered, “Nadir’s in the hallway.”

  She opened her mouth to reprimand him for joking, but her husband’s grave face stayed her tongue. When she looked down the hall, a familiar form solidified in the shadows. Nadir Talbot smiled and gave her a stiff bow.

  “How did he get in here?”

  “I will tell you later, but we can’t let Purcell find him. He killed Nash and wants to do the same to Nadir. Do you have your derringer?”

  “Of course not.” The pounding on the door grew louder as Patrick emerged from the hidden panel and made for the door. “Patrick, wait. Eilian, hide him in the servants’ walk.”

  Hadley studied Nadir’s careworn face as he emerged from the hall. His once lustrous hair now hung in snarls, and his Byzantine eyes were ringed with deep creases. He looked more tired than she had ever seen him. What was the scandal doing to him? Then, she noticed that his left hand wasn’t gloved as she first thought; it was coated in dribbles of dried blood. Before she could find the source, Nadir ducked into the panel and pulled it shut behind him.

  Sitting with her back to Nadir, Hadley pulled her dressing gown close and plucked a book from Eilian’s research off the end table.

  “Eilian, sit down. Act like nothing’s wrong.”

  “I don’t know if that’s possible,” he replied as he took up position behind her, blocking the camouflaged panel with his body. “Let him in, Pat.”

  Eilian held his breath as the clack of the sergeant’s heels echoed through the great hall. Purcell appeared in the doorway sharp despite his rain-soaked hair and mustache. His ligh
t eyes flickered over the shadows just beyond the doorways and down the halls before coming to rest on the lord and lady on the sofa. Stopping before them, he gave a curt bow.

  “To what do we owe the honor, sergeant? It seems rather late to be paying social calls,” Hadley said.

  “Lady Dorset, I’m here because Nadir Talbot has escaped. I have reason to believe he is headed this way.”

  “Really? But I thought you had him under lock and key. No one was even allowed to see him this afternoon, so how did he get out?”

  “He overpowered me, your ladyship, when I went to tell him of your kind offer to pay for his representation.”

  Eilian swallowed hard. Keeping his eyes on the policeman, he shuffled across the back of the chair to where pale pink splotches of blood had formed on the edge of the rug. A few smaller drips trailed from the carpet to the paneling. With his slippered foot, he blotted the first stain.

  “I would like to search the premises.”

  “Why? We haven’t seen him.”

  Purcell’s lip curled into a sardonic grin. “It isn’t that I don’t believe you, your ladyship, but I think Talbot may be hiding somewhere on the grounds. There are plenty of places to hide in and around a house this large. I promise I will not take too much of your time.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Sergeant Purcell. I give you my word as a lady that Mr. Talbot hasn’t been here. Now, please leave. I would like to turn in for the night.”

  Inching closer, Eilian put his foot over the second puddle.

  “What have we here?”

  Eilian’s heart pounded in his ears as the policeman’s gaze swept from the edge of his slipper to the trail of bloody water leading behind the woodwork. At Eilian’s wide eyes, he tutted and shook his head.

  “Harboring a fugitive is a serious offense, Lord Dorset.”

  Reaching into the holster at his side, Purcell withdrew his revolver and aimed it at the paneling.

  “No!” Hadley cried, lunging from the sofa.

  Eilian caught her arm and pulled her back as the sergeant turned the gun on her. She stared down the barrel, her chest heaving, her hand still reaching to stop him.

  “Sit down, Lady Dorset. This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Don’t shoot him,” she said, her voice a ragged whisper. Holding her breath as Purcell reached for the edge of the panel, she felt Eilian’s arm tighten around her.

  “Please, just let him go. I’m sure we can all forget this ever happened.”

  Ignoring the earl, the sergeant banged on the panel with the butt of his gun. “Talbot, come out!”

  As Nadir shifted and scratched behind the wall, a pale face appeared in the shadows of the upper arcade between the vases and statues. The hidden hinge whined, and Nadir stepped out. Dust had settled into the folds of his dark hair and cheeks, making him appear spectral—old even. Nadir clenched his eyes shut as he tugged his injured arm through the narrow gap. Purcell kept his gun pointed at Nadir’s heart as he stepped in front of the massive mantle still clutching his cane-sword. Locking eyes with the sergeant, Nadir threw the blade to the ground with a clatter.

  “Sergeant, you know he’s innocent. We all do,” Eilian began, feeling Hadley silently plead for him to do something. “If you let him go now, this can all end peacefully. Isn’t one death enough?”

  “Let’s go, Mr. Talbot.”

  Nadir met Hadley’s red-rimmed gaze. There was nothing any of them could do. He shook his head, keeping it down so the others couldn’t see his fear, and followed the officer. Hadley’s body tensed beneath Eilian’s hand, resisting the urge to charge after them. Her derringer was upstairs in her dresser drawer. Why had she not kept it on her? But would it have made a difference? Purcell had more experience, more strength. He held all the cards. Hadley shook her head. She couldn’t let him take Nadir. Her eyes traveled to the sword-cane laying just out of reach.

  Purcell walked backwards, his eyes sweeping over the nobles, his captive, and the butler, who stood frozen against the grand staircase. When he neared the foyer threshold, a faint chink echoed through the great hall as one of the heavy porcelain vases lifted from its niche. Pilcrow’s grey gaze met Eilian’s, holding it for a long moment before a shadow passed across her features and she released the vase.

  With a crash, it collided with the back of the sergeant’s skull and shattered across the wooden floor. Purcell stumbled, grabbing the back of his neck, but before he could catch his balance, Nadir slammed into him. Hadley broke from Eilian’s grasp, snatching the sword, and rushing toward the men as they fell against the wall in a pile of drenched silk and wool. Following close behind, Eilian took up the heavy fireplace poker.

  Nadir fought the pain in his injured shoulder as he pressed his forearm into Purcell’s neck. With his free hand, he held the sergeant’s wrist, keeping his gun as far from his face as he could. Leaning against him with all of his weight, Nadir breathed in the tang of Purcell’s sweat and the cheap whiskey on his breath. Nadir stared into the sergeant’s stony eyes. His arms shook from the pain arcing through his shoulder and the strain of hanging onto his waning strength. Purcell grunted, kneeing Nadir in the gut. The moment Nadir recoiled, the sergeant ripped his arm away. As he pulled the trigger, the iron poker collided with his arm. Hadley screamed and ducked at the boom of the gun and the shattering glass of the skylight. When Eilian drew the poker back again, Nadir landed a blow squarely in Purcell’s jaw. The gun dropped from his hand, skittering across the rug. Before the sergeant could recover, Hadley dove for the gun. The metal burned and the barrel smoked as she pointed it at the officer. Purcell glared at her and Eilian, who stood poised to strike if he dared to move.

  “Nadir, are you all right?” Hadley asked, never taking her eyes off Purcell.

  “Yes, but I should like my cane back.”

  Crossing the room on wavering legs, he shook out his hand and inspected the purpled bruises already forming across his knuckles. The sword-cane felt heavy as he took it from Hadley’s outstretched hand and held the blade to the man’s neck. For the first time in days, he could breathe again.

  “Pat,” Eilian called. The butler, who hadn’t moved since the fight began, peeled away from the foyer wall. “Go into Poole and fetch the police.”

  Purcell sneered at Nadir. “You think they will believe you?”

  “I know they will.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Uncertain Futures

  Eilian and Hadley glanced up from the iron tea table at the sound of gravel shifting on the drive. The steamer chugged, letting out a belch of smoke as it stopped before them. Trunks and baskets littered the back bench and the roof where several more had been tied on. Hadley smiled to herself as Leona Rhodes and Nadir Talbot crossed the lawn. In his royal purple suit and gold ascot, he nearly looked like he did the night of the party. The practiced smoldering gaze complete with smudged charcoal around his olive eyes was still there, but in those eyes, he had lost a hint of his devil-may-care attitude. It was the same weary wariness he had when he spoke of the time before success bought him respect. She hoped that, with time, the gleam would return.

  “Well, we’re off to London!” Nadir called as he and Leona reached their table.

  “So everything’s settled now?” Hadley asked.

  “Yes, thanks to both of you. The authorities in Poole have cleared me of any wrongdoing, but I will be back to testify at Sergeant Purcell’s trial in a few months. I rather hope Mrs. Nash is never caught, so at least my life won’t be interrupted again. Have you seen The Times?” When the Sorrells shook their heads, he continued, his left hand sweeping in wide gestures while his right remained stiffly at his side. “‘Novelist Trapped in Web of Murder.’ A ridiculous headline but fairly accurate. My publisher sent it to me demanding to know if it was true and if the whole mess was settled. Luckily, whoever wrote it did so after I was cleared. I still have a publisher, so no harm done.” He lips curled into a rakish grin. “It also mentioned the heroic actions of the E
arl and Countess of Dorset. Don’t worry, it was very complimentary.”

  Eilian’s cheeks burned. “That would explain the letter from my mother. I wondered how she knew. I was beginning to think she paid Patrick to spy on me.”

  “You’re going to London too, Mrs. Rhodes?” Hadley asked, her eyes trailing to the woman beside him. Standing next to her motley cousin, she was nearly invisible in her dove-grey gown.

  “Yes, I need some time away from Folkesbury to figure things out.”

  Nadir clasped his arm around his cousin’s shoulders. “A little smog and lively company will do wonders. She will be staying with me in Bloomsbury, of course. When are you heading back? You are going back, aren’t you?”

  “Oh yes. With our families being there and my business, we can’t stay away too long. We’re still packing and figuring out what to take back with us, but we will be leaving some time tomorrow.”

  “I, also, plan on returning in late August to do some digging around the property,” Eilian added as he offered Leona his seat, which she refused with a wave of her hand.

  “Really?”

  “I have been sending out inquiries to archaeologists who know more about Rome than I do, and a few seem quite interested in Brasshurst.”

  Leona opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get the words out, her face darkened and she fell silent.

  Spotting the sudden heaviness of her features, Hadley said, “Will you be going to any parties, Mrs. Rhodes? There’s at least another month left of the season. Hopefully, we will bump into one another.”