“Drake may not care what happens to you, but I’m worried you’re going to get hurt.”
She thought of Bennett with his scarred nose and baby blue eyes. It took considerable self-control to hold back a shudder. If she only got hurt, she’d count herself lucky. “I’m going to be careful, but I can get the information we need. Would you rather we left your dad in Literati hands?”
He hung his head and the muscles in his jaw jumped. Maeko knew he didn’t like choosing between her safety and his father’s freedom. That was rather sweet really and perhaps it was somewhat mean of her to put him in that spot. Still, nothing would change the truth and he needed to make his peace with that.
“No,” he admitted hesitantly, as if the very words hurt coming out. “But why does it always have to be you?”
She touched his arm and his gaze moved to her hand. “I’m not the only one out there taking risks, Ash, I’m just the only one you notice. I have my own goals, and right now they happen to coincide with some of the things Drake is after.” She left it there. At this point, either he would understand that or he wouldn’t.
He chewed at his lip for a moment, and she waited. He met her eyes, then glanced away again. “Can I at least do something to help?”
“This next part I need to do alone. After that… maybe.”
He nodded as if he had expected the answer and stared at his hands in his lap. After a brief silence, he made himself look at her with a visible force of will. “What happened after you came to warn me the night Lucian was murdered?”
“I went to one of the hideouts by Cheapside like I said I was going to, and some nasty bloke tried to kill me. Diggs and Chaff stopped him.” She remembered the dog the man had tortured and did shudder this time. Did it bother Diggs that he had shot and killed that man? Did it bother her? “They took care of me after that.”
“And?”
Her fading smile failed completely then. “And what?”
“What about you and Chaff?”
She got up from the bed and walked over to the vanity. Her hands came to rest on the back of the chair there, where Chaff’s jacket hung. She saw him in her mind, falling from the airship ladder after the Lits shot him in the hand, the pain etched in his face. Sorrow stabbed into her like a blade, twisting in her chest. Anger and frustration blazed white behind her vision. Her hands tightened on the jacket.
“What exactly do you want me to say? Do you want a minute-by-minute account? Are you just looking for a reason to be jealous? Do you want to hear that he kissed me? Is that what you’re after? Would it satisfy you to know that I rather liked it?”
She snapped her mouth shut. What was she doing? She closed her eyes and tried to find a calm within herself. She couldn’t look at Ash in the mirror’s reflection and see the hurt in his face, the hurt she caused him. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. She wanted so badly to fix everything, but all she could do was make a bigger mess of it.
“I’m sorry, Mae.”
He was right behind her now. His hands came to rest on her shoulders. When she didn’t respond, he used gentle force to turn her around. She couldn’t bring herself look at him.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, but I am jealous. I can’t help it. He got to be with you when you needed someone the most.”
Was he suggesting that the result would have been the same had he been the one to save her and take care of her instead of Chaff? Was he wrong? She drew in a breath, trying to swallow down the urge to cry and find her calm again. After a moment, she opened her eyes and he smiled, a gentle, hopeful expression.
His hand came up to cup her cheek. “But I’m here for you now.”
She closed her eyes again quickly. Confusion, frustration, and a selfish longing to accept his comfort swept a tempest through her. It would be easy to give in to his affections, to let him hold and comfort her. But what would happen when she got Chaff back? Who would she turn away? She couldn’t have them both. Not like that.
She swallowed. Her throat felt too tight. She had to force the words out. “Please, don’t.”
He pulled away abruptly and she opened her eyes to see his back as he stormed from the room. The door slammed shut behind him and opened again almost immediately. Crimson entered, glancing over her shoulder once after Ash.
She looked askance at Maeko. “Lover’s spat?”
“We’re not…” Maeko shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Oh.” She smiled knowingly. “That explains a lot. He wants to be and you’re smitten with that other boy, the one Drake told me about.” She snapped her fingers. “What was his name?”
“Chaff,” Maeko grumbled. “And I’m not smitten with him.”
Crimson shrugged. “I’ve got to run into town for some things. Drake told me to ride in with you. I can do my errands while you meet up with your contact. Our scouts in the city said he spends an occasional evening at JAHF, but has been spending most of his evenings on patrol in the Whitechapel area, so we’ll try that.”
“Finally,” Maeko muttered. She turned back to the vanity and Chaff’s jacket, resting her hand on it for a moment.
“Which of the boys you’re not smitten with does that belong to?”
Maeko gave her a hard look.
Crimson laughed. It sounded like chimes ringing in a light breeze.
“I’m only teasing you, Kitten. Your affairs are your own business.” She turned toward the door, beckoning Maeko with one red nailed finger. Then she paused and looked over her shoulder. “Unless you’d like to talk about it.”
Maeko considered the offer for a few seconds. It might be nice to get the whole mess off her chest. It might even help her figure out how she really felt. Then again, that thought worried her almost more than the current confusion. At least while she remained uncertain she didn’t have to figure out how to admit her preference for one to the other.
She shook her head.
“Come along then.”
“Wait.”
Crimson raised her brows in question.
“I think I should dress a bit differently if I’m going to approach this particular contact without drawing the wrong attention. Can you help me?”
Crimson shut the door and Maeko pulled out the dress she’d worn the night she ran from the Airship Tower. The only one she still had of the several finely made ones Lucian gave to her while she lived with him. She’d had one of Drake’s servants clean and hang it in case she had a need for it. Approaching a Literati officer might be easier if she looked like an upstanding citizen when she did it. At the very least, she suspected it would put Wells more at ease with her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Once dressed, Maeko followed Crimson through the manor, hoping to slip out unseen in the fine togs. That hope was dashed the moment they stepped outside. Ash stood off by of the stables talking with Tomoe and his little brother, when she and Crimson walked out into the courtyard.
A coach waited out in front of the house with two fine matched black horses standing patient in the traces. Tomoe and Ash looked like they had a mind to intervene when they saw her, so she kept her eyes ahead, pretending not to see them, and hurried straight to the coach.
Crimson wasted no time stepping into the coach and getting settled. Had she also noticed the potential for confrontation or did she just do everything with such haste?
Maeko stepped in immediately after her. When the door closed behind them and the coach began to move, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“I have to admit,” Crimson began, “Ash seems like a nice boy and he is handsome, especially with those pretty pale eyes. Why does his attention bother you so much? A bird in the hand, as they say.”
Maeko leaned against the side of the coach and peered out the window to watch the long pasture fence line as they passed by. Part of her resented that Crimson was pursuing the subject, but another larger part was heartened by the idea of having someone to talk to about it. “It isn’t that I don’t like Ash. I do. He just doesn’t understand me.”
>
Crimson crossed her long legs on the seat and set her hands in her lap, her bright green eyes boring into Maeko with a gentle and relentless pressure. “In what way?”
“He doesn’t understand what it’s like to live on the streets. He seems to think being a street rat is some kind of vice I should overcome, like an opium addiction. Life on the streets is rubbish. Lots of sickness, hunger, and running from the Lits, but at least I never had to pretend to be something I’m not and I had people who cared about me. People who would watch my back if I needed it. From what I’ve seen, all this proper rubbish means is that you’re expected to conform to the expectations of other people who would happily stab you in the back if they thought it would gain them a little more status to flaunt.”
“It certainly can be that way sometimes.” Crimson’s smile was gentle, full of understanding and a gleam of mischief. “Maybe even most of the time. I take it you feel like this Chaff does understand you?”
“He was my mentor. He protected me and taught me how to get by living on the streets. He knows who and what I am and accepts that, though I imagine he’d be chuffed as anyone if I stopped taking so many risks.” She exhaled, trying to relieve the sudden tightening in her chest. “He wouldn’t be in this mess if not for me.”
Crimson’s eyes shone in the dimness of the coach like two gemstones. Even with her somewhat hooked nose, she was a stunning woman.
“I’ve been wondering about that. How did you get involved in all of this?”
“Macak.”
Crimson’s brow crinkled in confusion.
“I found him in an alley when I was hiding from the Lits. I decided to take care of him. With his clockwork leg, he wasn’t safe roaming the streets. One thing led to another in a rather whirlwind sort of way and I ended up helping Lucian survive the plotting of his homicidal partner. A lot of good all that did.” It irked to think how much she had risked with nothing to show for it now. “Lucian took me in after I saved him. Then his brother murdered him and took his place. So here I am, still trying to help the people I care about and mostly making things worse.”
Crimson leaned forward and took one of Maeko’s hands in hers. “You can’t blame yourself, Kitten. Things happen. You try harder than most people I know to get things right. How many people would truly risk their own life to save someone else? You should be proud of your courage.”
“They shot Chaff. Should I be proud of that?” Her voice caught and she looked away to hide the tears welling in her eyes.
Crimson moved gracefully into the seat next to her, unaffected by the rocking and bouncing of the coach, and put an arm around her. Maeko tried to fight the tears, but she’d grown weary of holding it in. She let the woman pull her close and stroke her hair while she let some of the tears go.
“Don’t fret, Kitten. Drake gave his word that he’d help get Chaff free and I’ll see to it that he follows through.”
“Thank you.”
Maeko moved to wipe her nose on her sleeve and Crimson caught her wrist. She dug a handkerchief out of a trouser pocket with her other hand. “Please don’t do that to such a lovely dress.”
Maeko flushed and accepted the handkerchief.
#
Dusk was settling on the city by the time the coach dropped Maeko off in Whitechapel not far from the lurk where Wells and the other officer had begun tailing them the night after Chaff was taken. It wasn’t raining, which meant there were a fair number of people about for her to blend in with. Unfortunately, the fact that she was better dressed than over half the people on the streets left her feeling awkward and ill at ease. Ordinarily, a young lady of obvious wealth wouldn’t be wandering the Whitechapel streets without a chaperone. Perhaps she should have asked for someone to come with her, but instead she had insisted on going alone thinking Wells might be more comfortable without someone else there. She forced her shoulders back and her chin up, keeping a steady stride to discourage those who gave her a second look from following up on their curiosity.
How did one find a Literati officer patrolling the streets? It wasn’t as if she went looking for them often. She knew far more about hiding from them than she did about how to approach one. Then again, knowing how to avoid the officers should be a simple reverse of how to find them.
Using that theory, it wasn’t long before she spotted a couple of Literati officers chatting up a gentleman while he was locking up his storefront. Neither was Wells, though they were both as young or younger than him. They laughed at something the shop owner said and bid him a jovial farewell then started down the street in her direction. Fighting the instinct to duck down an alley, she continued toward them and smiled politely when they were only a few strides away.
“Excuse me, officers.” Her voice shook a little.
The two men stopped and regarded her with a hint of surprise.
The one on the right, a young man with a long pointed nose that poked down well over his neat brown moustache, offered a friendly smile. When he spoke, he had a slightly nasal voice. “How can we assist you, Miss?”
She drew in a small breath to steady her nerves. Remember, Mae, you’re a lady right now. “I’m looking for Officer Wells. Is he around?”
The other officer, a pale chap with icy blue eyes and white-blond hair grinned. “I didn’t know he liked them so young.”
Maeko’s first impulse was to punch the bloke, but she had a feeling that fell under the category of things a proper young lady didn’t do. Instead, she gasped and put her fingers over her lips in what she hoped was a convincingly feminine display of shock.
The first officer elbowed his partner sharply in the ribs, sending the other staggering to one side, his face turning an unflattering shade of pink.
“Pardon him, Miss. His parents didn’t teach him any manners. Wells would normally be here, but he’s been put on light duty. He suffered an injury when he and his partner were attacked by Pirates few nights ago.”
Light duty? What did that mean? She ignored the rude officer and gave the nicer officer a concerned look. “I do hope he’s all right.”
“He should be fine, Miss. He’s back working in the office at JAHF for the remainder of the week while he heals up.”
The blond officer stepped back up beside his partner, looking sullen and rubbing his side. “I’m sure he’d welcome a visit. Desk duty is bloody dull.”
“What kind of language is that to be using in front of a lady?”
The blond flinched away from the threat of another elbow in the ribs.
“Sorry, Miss,” he apologized.
She nodded curtly at the blond, remembering to be incensed by language she used more often than not herself, then smiled at the first man. “Thank you for your assistance.”
He inclined his head politely. “Anytime, Miss.”
Maeko continued down the street, waiting until the two officers were out of sight to hail a hansom. She felt calmer settled in the seat with Whitechapel fading behind her, at least until she considered where she was headed. It might be nothing short of madness to go to JAHF when she’d escaped from the place twice in the recent past. Without knowing where Wells lived, however, it was the only way she was likely to catch him. She chewed at the nub of a fingernail all the way over. When the hansom pulled up in front of the building, she stayed in the seat for a moment, reluctant to set foot on the steps.
What’s wrong with me? I can’t go in there.
“This is the place, Miss,” the coachman prompted.
“Yes. Thank you.” She made herself step down from the hansom. A sickly coiling sensation began in her stomach as she paid the man and started walking up the steps. Maybe she’d get lucky and Chaff would still be there in one of the holding cells. It didn’t seem likely, but even the remotest chance was enough to keep her walking to the doors.
The front door was locked so she rapped lightly on it. She heard a chair scraping on the floor as someone stood up inside. The lock clicked and an elderly gentleman in a Literati unifo
rm looked out and smiled, displaying a rather prominent gap in his upper teeth.
“What do you need, Miss?”
“I’m sorry to bother you. I had hoped to speak with Officer Wells. Is he here?”
The man looked her over, though she wondered how well he saw her with his cloudy eyes. After a long moment in which he stood staring through her with pursed lips, he nodded. “Come in.”
He shuffled back into the room and she followed, doing her best not to jump visibly when the door thudded shut behind her. Wells sat at one of the two desks in the room looking over some papers. When he looked up, he dropped the pen he was holding. He knew who she was. A street rat playing at being a society lady. After staring in open-mouthed surprise for a few seconds, he closed his mouth and stood up.
“Miss…” Wells trailed off, raising a brow in question.
“Harris,” she answered, then felt guilty for taking Ash’s last name. Did Chaff even know his last name? She didn’t remember ever asking.
He smiled tightly.
“Ah, yes. I have that information you wanted. If you would accompany me to the back office.” At that, he walked to the double doors that led back into the rest of the building and opened one, gesturing for her to precede him through.
She hesitated before the doorway. Could she actually trust him? The further she went into the depths of this building, the harder it would be to get away if he meant to try to arrest her—and it wasn’t as if he didn’t have reason to do so.
“Don’t worry, Miss Harris, an upstanding lady like you has nothing to fear back there.” The slight grimace told her he knew it was a lie and he felt a smidge guilty for saying it.
She gave him a hard look then took a deep breath and walked past him into the bowels of the jail. He let the door shut and walked past her to lead the way down the hall at a brisk pace, challenging her skill in the heeled boots. She followed past the side halls that led to the two cellblocks, to another door near the end of the hall. He opened it and stepped aside to let her pass.
It led into an office with large comfortable chairs on either side of a heavy, polished wood desk. Tall filing cabinets lined the back wall, and a well-stocked liquor cabinet stood to one side with a crystal decanter full of some amber liquid on top.
The Girl and the Clockwork Crossfire Page 3