Moonlight & Mechanicals

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  She shrugged. “Not sure. I was too busy running for me life.”

  “Fair enough. But you did hear creaking when he moved?” Liam studied the sketch. Was it a man in a mask or a remarkably human automaton? The only person he knew who could make one so humanlike would be Wink. He needed to show this to her.

  “Aye. Its knees and elbows made noise like the dumbwaiter when it’s low on oil.” She gave a sample screech reminiscent of a mechanical in need of maintenance.

  After another few minutes’ conversation, during which he determined that she knew nothing more that would forward his investigation, he asked one final question.

  “Miss Archer, Mrs. Hawkins, have either of you heard about others disappearing in this neighborhood? Have people been vanishing in Wapping lately?”

  Mrs. Hawkins snorted. “More than usual, you mean?”

  Liam nodded.

  So did the madam—eventually. For a moment she stared at Liam, then, lips set in a grim line she said, “Yes. Something is afoot in Wapping, Inspector. I hope to heaven you can find out what, and put an end to it before more good people disappear.”

  Chapter Four

  “You have to admit, he does make a handsome escort,” Nell whispered as Connor left the opera box to fetch refreshments during the intermission. “He’s quite dashing in top hat and tails.”

  “Of course he is,” Dorothy interjected, her dark eyes twinkling. “The Order doesn’t produce ugly offspring. His father was handsome, too, but I wouldn’t have wanted to marry him. What matters, Wink, is how he makes you feel.”

  “Thank you, Aunt, for understanding.” Wink tapped her fan with her fingers, idly wondering whether adding a small poisoned dart would be worthwhile, or if a slender stiletto could more easily be hidden in one of the ribs. Anything to avoid thinking about Connor, Liam or the state of matrimony in general.

  “Though he did show an unexpected bit of flair when he brought you those flowers.” Dorothy reached over and tapped the nosegay tied to Wink’s wrist. “The automated bumblebee is extremely clever.”

  “Yes, it is.” Wink smiled at the tiny brass insect that wound up and circled the silver flowers. Connor had done perfectly tonight, bringing white orchids for Nell, bright wildflowers for Dorothy and a mechanical corsage for Wink. He was everything a suitor was supposed to be. Was it wrong for her to expect something more? To feel the kind of attraction that turned her knees to jelly?

  Was that even wise? There was a certain safety in the kind of love Connor offered. Even at eight years old, she’d known when her natural mother died that a big part of her father had as well. That kind of intense emotion was wonderful to watch with Papa Merrick and Mum Caro, but it could go wrong so easily. If Wink married Connor and lost him, she’d be truly sad, but she’d be able to carry on, to take care of herself and any children they had. Would the same be true if she wed Liam and he was killed? All of the men in her life had chosen dangerous occupations. A calm, steady type of love did have much to recommend it.

  “Nell, dear, why don’t you come with me to the ladies’ retiring room?” Dorothy said.

  “I’ll come too…” Wink stood, glad to at least stretch her legs.

  “No.” Dorothy shook her head. “You wait here for Connor.” She tugged Nell’s arm and the two of them left the box.

  Bother. Too restless to sit back down, Wink prowled the tiny enclosure, wondering what Connor would think when he returned. Moreover, would he take advantage of their brief isolation? She rather hoped he would.

  “Where are the others?”

  Wink spun to the entrance. Normally, even a Knight couldn’t sneak up on her, but she’d been that distracted. “Retiring room.” She sighed and accepted a glass of tepid lemonade. “Honestly, I think they just wanted to give us some time alone.”

  Connor tapped the rim of his glass to hers. “Thoughtful. Do you mind?” They were far enough back in the box that the gaslights were almost completely shadowed, meaning no one from across the theatre could see them.

  “No.” Spending time alone with him was part of her bargain, and she wasn’t going to go back on her word. Besides, she needed to know if she could feel more for him than just friendship. She stepped closer, until her hoops ran into his ankles. Inhaling deeply, she took in his scent—bay rum, macassar oil, a hint of the brandy in his glass. Under it all was the scent of Connor himself, unique and familiar as one of her brothers. Her senses stirred—she was a young, healthy woman, and he was decidedly male—but the stir was faint, almost distant, an awareness without any magnetism. Wink bit off a curse as she laid her cheek on his shoulder.

  Connor set his glass on a small table and took hers from her unresisting hands. He draped his arms loosely, almost tentatively around her waist and his breath stirred the curls at her temples. “You look amazing tonight. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s true.”

  “Thank you. Believe me, I’m woman enough to enjoy being complimented. You’re quite nice to look at yourself.” She patted his lapel and pulled back to look up into his bluff, handsome face. “You are, Connor. You’re the ideal beau—handsome, thoughtful, bright, athletic, honorable. Any girl would be delighted to have you.”

  “I don’t want any silly girl.” He cupped her cheek with one white-gloved hand. “I want a woman, one with brains and dignity and strength. I need someone I can talk with, who understands the world we live in and the monsters that walk among us. I want you, Wink, along with a houseful of cogs and gears, and George guarding our carrot-topped children.”

  Her heart cracked. “That’s probably the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.” How could she continue refusing him? Friendship and affection had to be better than growing old alone. She licked her lips and looked into his eyes, giving him tacit permission to kiss her. The other night, her role had been merely passive. This time she planned to participate. It was time to find out what it felt like to really kiss a man she cared for.

  His eyes nearly closed as he lowered his head to hers, tightening his arms around her waist to pull her closer. She leaned in, her own eyelids fluttering shut.

  “What a crush.” A loud throat-clearing punctuated Dorothy’s exclamation from just outside the curtain, giving Wink and Connor time to guiltily jump apart.

  A moment later, Dorothy strode into the box with Nell behind her. Nell ginned at Wink as she helped herself to a glass of lemonade from the tray Connor had brought. After they took their seats, she leaned in close to Wink. “Anything interesting happen while we were gone?”

  “No.” Wink bit her lip, wishing she felt more than relief at the interruption.

  Nell chuckled. “Too bad.”

  Wink nodded. Now her experiment would have to wait until the next time she was alone with Connor. Who knew when that would be? Blast it.

  Connor, though, as always, came to her rescue. He leaned close to her ear as the performance began. “I was hoping we could go for a drive tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Of course.” Somehow, she’d find a moment to kiss him. She had to know if there was a spark, even a little one. Her stomach clenched in a mixture of dread and anticipation as she turned back to the performance.

  * * *

  Liam stretched his legs beneath his desk the following morning and read through his notes on the Eamon Miller case. The madam had been right. Something very odd was going on in Wapping. Not only had there been over twenty reported missing-person cases in the last three months, but at least half a dozen residents of the area had reported missing dogs. A number of possibilities for the missing humans. It was still regrettably common practice to shanghai men to work as sailors, but almost never women. Slave trafficking of various sorts still existed, but was less common than the penny dreadfuls would have one believe. Medical experimentation was another possibility. Grave robbing was a common enough way for medical schools to get cadavers to study, but Liam hadn’t heard of a large-scale operation taking live victims to test. Furthermore, not one of those cou
ld account for the abduction of guard animals and household pets. Nor did any of them explain the sketch tacked to his wall, drawn by Lolly “Luscious” Archer.

  A tap sounded at his open door, and he looked up to see Connor leaning against the jamb. “Got a mo’?”

  Liam nodded. “Come in—if you can find room.”

  Connor lifted a stack of books off the rickety chair opposite the desk and cautiously lowered his weight onto the seat. “I took Wink to the opera last night.”

  “What? Why on Earth would you do that? She loathes opera.” Liam resisted the urge to growl. He’d never taken Connor for an idiot before. This matchmaking business was going to be far more work than he’d initially supposed.

  The idiot smiled. “I know, but Nell loves opera, and Wink loves Nell. We made a party of it and laughed ourselves silly at the crowd.”

  Liam tipped his chin, conceding the point. “Well played. Did she enjoy herself?”

  “She seemed to.” Connor shrugged. “Hard to tell, I suppose. Today we’re going for a drive, but I don’t know where I should take her.”

  “Hmmm. I’ve an idea.” This, Liam had planned for. He scribbled an address and a few instructions on a piece of notepaper and handed it to Connor. “Give them my name. The owner knows me.” He’d helped recover some stolen property a few years ago, and the gypsy band had remembered Liam, sending a note around any time the group was in town.

  “Thanks, old chum.” After reading it, Connor stuffed the address into his breast pocket and turned serious eyes onto Liam. “Wink told me about her missing friend. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I have no idea. It’s turning into quite a puzzle, to be sure, and I’m supposed to be focused on some unspecified plot against the royal family, thanks to your superior colluding with mine.” The Order wasn’t a resource to be overlooked, so Liam told Connor pretty much everything he’d heard or surmised. He even gave the younger man a photographic copy of the sketch, just in case someone else at the Order’s headquarters could identify the man or creature or thing, whichever it was. “Show the image and description to Wink. She may be able to tell us if it’s human or machine.”

  “Or something else entirely.” Connor nodded as he added those to his pocket. “She’ll be glad to be of use, if she can. Not one to sit on the sidelines, is she?”

  “Now you’re thinking in the right direction,” Liam said. “And for God’s sake, kiss the girl, if she’ll let you. She’s a hot-blooded woman. Don’t be missish yourself.” He clenched his fingers so hard on the arms of his chair that he felt the wood begin to dent. This is for her own good. Somehow, the reminder didn’t get rid of the red haze over his vision. His fangs tried to emerge, but he forced them back. This was no time to go wolf.

  “Yes, well, that proved to be problematic with her sister and aunt in the party,” Connor said with a rueful grin. Then his lips tightened. “I kissed her at the ball, but she didn’t seem too impressed. I’m hoping I can do better a second time.”

  “See that you do.” Liam had to get out of here before he suffocated—or strangled the Knight. He stood and reached for his topcoat, hanging on a hook behind his desk. “I’ve got to go to Whites and chat up other younger sons. Good talking to you, MacKay.” He’d planned to go to Whites this evening, but right now he just needed out of this airless box of an office.

  “Good luck. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. And thank you, again.” Connor stood as well and followed Liam down the hall. “I expect you’ll hear how it goes, one way or the other. And if I find out anything about…well, you know, I’ll get that to you right away.”

  “Good, good.” Liam managed not to shove Connor out the door ahead of him. Even with his legs being a good four inches longer than Liam’s, Connor moved too slowly for Liam’s taste. “Enjoy your drive.” He hurried off toward the tram station before Connor could get in another word.

  * * *

  “I expected you to pick me up in the steam car.” On the front steps of the Camelot Club, Wink allowed Connor to hand her into his family’s old horse-drawn brougham, complete with footman behind and driver up on the box.

  Connor jumped up to take his seat beside her and grinned. “I know. But I like to keep you guessing.”

  It was impossible not to smile back. “So where are we going?”

  “That’s a surprise too.”

  Wink wrinkled her nose. “Well, you could have at least let me go home and change. Picking me up straight from the office was hardly sporting.”

  “Believe me, my dear, you’re dressed perfectly for the occasion.” He grinned wickedly, admiring his own wily plan, she was sure.

  Wink glanced at her plain brown, hoopless skirt, spotted here and there with grease and paraffin oil from her afternoon’s work. “If you say so.” What was he up to this time? In the last two or three days, Connor’s imagination and understanding of her seemed to have taken giant leaps forward. It was a puzzle, but she wasn’t about to complain. Having a suitor who seemed to genuinely understand her was a novel, even exhilarating experience. Had he brought the closed coach to provide an opportunity to kiss her? That question tumbled around in her mind—and stomach—all the way across London Bridge. They turned back and followed the Thames until they were in Rotherhite…directly across from Wapping.

  “What on Earth are we doing here?” It wasn’t a particularly nice part of the metropolis, but beyond the first few blocks near the river, it was better—more mixed with middle class than where she’d lived in Wapping. Furthermore, she had no ties here—no history. When she’d lived near the river, it had been an almost unfathomable gulf, the few miles to a bridge an impossible distance. In those days, local gangs and other waterfront lowlifes had been a bigger worry than the soot and smoke that clogged the air. Today, the gangs still operated, but most of the populace didn’t worry about them too much. The average worker assumed lung disease would kill him before the criminals had a chance. Fresh food had to be brought in from the country, and was too expensive for most. The lifespan of a poor Londoner was ten years shorter than it had been when Wink was younger. Even many of the vampyres had left town, since their prey had diminished. How things had changed in eight meager years.

  “You’ll see.” The coach turned south, away from the river. After only a few blocks, the city seemed to dwindle. The buildings were set farther apart, and there were even some open, scrubby fields, the blighted remains of former farmland. Railroad tracks crisscrossed the area.

  On one of those fields, a row of brightly painted train cars formed a backdrop to a dozen round silk tents and temporary wooden structures, all encased by a rope fence. Laughter burbled up inside her. “You’ve brought me to a carnival?”

  Connor’s blue eyes twinkled. “Yes, ma’am. One with a particular surprise for you.”

  He handed her down from the coach and took her arm. The music of a steam organ filled the air along with the sounds of laughter and the loud calls of barkers. Before Wink slipped her air filter on, she caught the scents of coal smoke, animal dung and fried pastry. Instead of heading toward the ticket booth, Connor strode around the fair, across the stubby black grass to the railroad siding. As he lifted his hand to knock, the door of one of the plainer cars opened and a dark-haired man with a thick mustache emerged.

  “Welcome, welcome!” He pumped Connor’s hand. “To you and your beautiful lady. But where is the mechanic you said you were bringing?”

  “Right here.” Connor put his arm around Wink’s waist and introduced her to Mr. Smith, the owner of the carnival. “Mr. Smith’s roundabout isn’t working, and I thought perhaps you’d like to have a go at fixing it.”

  Wink felt the grin spread across her face. “You brought me to a carnival to repair something?”

  “You don’t have to—it’s entirely your choice.” His expressive face showed an odd mix of nervousness and hope. “But it’s the only one in this part of town all summer, and lots of children were disappointed about the g
alloper.”

  Not just children, poor children. That’s what he didn’t say. This wasn’t a high-priced troupe. Wink looked over at the crowd, clearly made up of the working class, not the moneyed elite of Mayfair society. This might be the only fair or carnival some of these children ever attended, or at least for another year or two. While the adults might prefer the sideshows or the other performances that went along with a fair, riding the galloping horses of the carousel had certainly been the highlight for Wink as a child—and back then it had been turned by a draft horse, rather than a steam engine, so it hadn’t been nearly as fast nor smooth a ride.

  Wink couldn’t resist hugging Connor. “How utterly brilliant. Unfortunately I didn’t bring my tools.”

  Connor patted her shoulder as he stepped away. “On the other hand, I did—with a little help from your aunt.” He gestured toward his footman, who stood beside the coach with Wink’s heavy wooden toolbox in his hands.

  “Well then, gentlemen.” Wink turned back to Mr. Smith and rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “I’ve never gotten my hands on a roundabout engine before. Let’s have a look, shall we?”

  Along with Wink’s tools, Aunt Dorothy had sent a long smock, work gloves and goggles. Wink left her kid gloves and silk bonnet in the coach and donned her working gear. She’d have preferred trouser-style coveralls for crawling around a carousel, but the smock would do. With Connor in tow, she set out across the field with Mr. Smith, leaving the footman to wait with the driver and George in the carriage. Smith led them through a side gate, bypassing the ticket booth, and the salutes he garnered from the various workers reinforced Wink’s impression that he was the man in charge.

  “So tell me, what exactly is the problem? Does the machine work at all?” She studied the structure as they approached the striped tent that housed the roundabout, its cheerfully painted horses roped off. “Does the same steam engine run the organ?”

  “The organ you hear is our old one.” Mr. Smith lifted the rope and ushered her up onto the carousel. It was a small one, with only sixteen horses, two abreast on each of eight floor panels. “This organ still works, but the roundabout, it doesn’t turn as it ought. We shut down the fire this morning so it wouldn’t be too hot for you to look at.”