And with the gold he’d planned to steal from the Badlands, he would have had more than the means to do it.
Though it took a lot of effort, Henrietta managed to push the last thought away. With everything sold off, there was money enough now, especially since it would do her little good on its own. Perhaps, she could use it to honor her mother’s memory and begin to unsully that of her father. Besides, helping people in this manner would be another step toward her own healing. Still guarded but curious now, she reached for the papers. “I’d love to look at the plan you’ve drawn up, Mr. St. Clair.”
Tobias handed them over with a nod. “I should warn you, unlike your father’s will, this sort of thing involves a great deal of—” he winked, “—lawyer speak. It might be in both our best interests if we took the time to go over the documents together.”
Silence stretched between them. He’d winked at her. Henri had been away from city life far too long. Was this sort of behavior normal now? Yes, Carson had blundered through a few things last night, and certainly on the Dark Hawk the behavior wouldn’t have seemed out of place, but she didn’t remember gentlemen acting in such a manner when she’d lived in Philadelphia before.
Worse, she wasn’t entirely sure she disliked it, though she might have preferred it from a man who didn’t make her as nervous as this one did. Preposterous. She’d decided which reality she wanted to live in, and it wasn’t one filled with louts and ruffians. The very next time they stopped in Philadelphia, she would find someone—a former army medic perhaps—to take her position on the Dark Hawk. Then she could focus on rebuilding her life in this world. One foot in each was stretching her in two.
Stepping into the drizzle plaguing the grimy street at last, Henrietta waved to her driver, who had busied himself talking to an odd-looking man in a bowler hat. The stranger’s face seemed somewhat misshapen. Clearly, the lawyer’s arrival had her looking at everything through a veil of suspicion, which made her more than a little uncomfortable.
“That might indeed be wise, Mr. St. Clair. However, as I mentioned, I have other things to deal with at the moment, including having some items shipped out of the Union. Since I trust no one else with them, I’ll be traveling as well. So if you’ll please excuse me...”
“Of course.” Tobias swept a hand toward the waiting carriage, steam issuing from the engine as it idled. “However, since your time in Philadelphia is limited, it might be prudent if I accompanied you for the moment and explained a bit more about what your father had planned.”
One look at his face and Henrietta knew he wasn’t jesting. Fourth circle of hell, the man certainly takes what he wants. He held the carriage door, waiting for her, muscling his way politely into her life. Her skin tingled painfully with some combination of fear and anticipation. It was a sensation she didn’t think she should ignore.
“Dr. Mason?” He reached a hand toward her.
Henrietta stared at his fingers for what felt like an eternity. Then the rain began to fall in earnest. She took it as a sign and grasped his hand, allowing him to assist her into the carriage.
Water dripped from his hair onto the shoulders of his gray tweed coat. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to leave me on the street in the rain.”
Lips twitching, Henri nodded. “For a moment, I was.”
“Yet here we are.”
Fingers smoothing her skirts, Henrietta raised her eyes to meet his gaze. If he could be a boor, her brazenness shouldn’t surprise him. “Only because it would be the height of rudeness to leave a business associate in the rain and filth. You have until we reach the hangar to convince me to examine this foundation further. Then we part ways until I return to Philadelphia—or permanently.”
The man might be genuine, but if he’d been involved in her father’s plans for the Badlands, she wanted nothing to do with him. Then again, she knew a certain Badlands border guard who might like to have his head on a spike.
“And here I thought my sparkling personality had already won you over.”
Henrietta opened her mouth to retort.
“Dr. Mason? Are we all set here then?” The driver stood outside the door, his eyes flicking from her face to Tobias’s.
Her society smile formed without a thought. “Yes, Robert.” She turned back to Tobias. “I have everything I need.”
Robert grunted something before climbing into the driver’s seat and stoking the bellows. The carriage lurched forward then settled into a quiet roll through the crowded street.
“As for you, Mr. St. Clair—” Henrietta relaxed against the cushions, knowing her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “—I suggest you start talking.”
* * *
The stark white canopies of the dirigible hangar had completely eclipsed the view outside the tiny window. Tobias squeezed his hands into fists. He could only hope he’d said enough. “So, if the plan your father and I drew up meets your approval, we need to discuss how you want to implement things. How much of a hand you want in the running of the foundation. Since you’ve implied there’s more than adequate funding, there’s even the possibility of opening your own school, which might be more cost-effective in the long term than merely offering scholarships to other schools. In addition—”
The carriage shuddered to a stop, and the door popped open. Robert, the annoyingly efficient driver, glared at him before turning to Mason’s daughter. “Safely delivered as promised, Dr. Mason.”
“Thank you, Robert. If you’d be so kind as to assist with loading the last of the cargo, I would greatly appreciate it.” She gripped his fingers and alit from the carriage, her boot heels clicking lightly on the burnished wood deck.
Tobias scrubbed at his face. Unlike most people in the city, he knew damned well where Henrietta Mason had been for the last several years as well as where she was headed now. Senator Mason kept secrets from a lot of people, but Tobias wasn’t one of them. He’d hoped his ruse would convince Henrietta to invite him to accompany her to the Badlands, but clearly that wouldn’t happen.
With a sigh, he followed her through the door. “Well, Dr. Mason, it’s been a pleasure. When you’ve determined how you wish to proceed, you can contact me at my office.” He tucked a card into the file in her hands.
“Perfect. And it is an interesting idea. One way or another, I’ll let you know what I decide.”
“Thank you, and have a safe journey.”
After nodding at her, he spun on his heel and headed back toward the gray skies outside. Damn. He needed to be on that dirigible. He paced outside the hangar, scowling. They had cargo to transfer to the ship, so they wouldn’t be ready to take off for a while yet. He’d have to time it carefully, but one way or another Tobias was catching a ride to the Badlands.
Considering he’d recognized the man in the bowler hat outside the lab, he hoped the Dark Hawk left the confines of the hangar sooner rather than later. Preferably much sooner.
Chapter Four
People huddled under black umbrellas and ducked from one patch of cover to another in order to escape the rain. While he didn’t relish the way wet hair clung to his face, Carson appreciated the downpour. No one wanted to stand in it long enough to ask what he was doing at the door to the warehouse.
Kneeling, Carson opened the pouch containing his lock picks and pulled out the two he wanted. With the tension wrench twisted securely, he slid the rake into the lock and dragged it over the pins, praying Henrietta would still be here. He’d staked out Mason’s home all night, waiting for her. No one he asked seemed to have any information on her at all. Instead, a neighborhood child had volunteered the general location of Mason’s place in the city—his warehouse laboratory. The next time Carson needed information, he would remember to ask children. They weren’t nearly as cagey as their parents.
If Henrietta wasn’t here, Carson didn’t have an
other lead. Of course, there was the possibility St. Clair or one of the mafia goons had reached her first. No. If he didn’t know where she was, the mafia wouldn’t either—he had to trust in that—and St. Clair would have to play things quietly. If Carson found the lawyer, it would likely be in the lab as well.
He had to adjust the tension wrench once, but then the door popped open readily. In one move, he swung inside and latched it closed again.
Then he waited.
If Henrietta or St. Clair were here, they were unnervingly quiet. She might not want to see him for some unknown reason, but he doubted Henrietta would ignore his presence. The lawyer, on the other hand, could be here—either hiding or taking up position to get a clean shot. Only the pounding of the rain kept Carson company, which likely meant another dead end.
The echo of gunfire never came, and Carson relaxed a bit, even as frustration ate at him. Then his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he muttered a string of profanities.
Empty. Well, not entirely, but empty e-fucking-nough. Carson stalked through the space, sure now that St. Clair wasn’t tucked away in a corner. The only things left in those shadows were dust and a few scraps of metal and glass.
Something glittered on the floor near the doorway into an office at the back. He bent and picked it up. A tiny clockwork butterfly, probably from Henrietta’s hair. Part of him—the part still angry about the way she’d left—wanted to crush the thing and throw it to the darkest corner of the lab. His fingers clenched around it until he felt the delicate wings starting to give way. Then he remembered wishing she’d left something when she deserted the ball and shoved it into his pocket.
Pushing thoughts of that nature aside, he strode into the room. If he wanted the opportunity to play the prince, first he had to find his Cinderella. Other than the desk and chair in the back office, dust, metal and glass were the only things that remained. His lip curled up in disgust. Mason’s senate office had been taken over months ago, his things delivered to his house—which was empty and sold as well. Everything of Mason’s was gone. And so was St. Clair.
And so was Henrietta. As much as Carson didn’t want to, he couldn’t help but think about what the mafia would do to her if they found her first, especially if they thought she had something they wanted. Considering she had inherited her father’s entire estate, it was likely some experiment, some clockwork, some device the mafia craved now rested in her possession.
“Damn it to the seven hells and back!”
The pattering of rain on the road grew suddenly louder, and a creak made Carson spin toward the door. It stood open once more. A man with not much more substance than a shadow stepped inside, streams of water running from the thinning strands of his black hair.
“Oh! Can I help you, sir? I was under the impression Dr. Mason had finished. Are you part of the ship’s crew?”
Doctor Mason? Henrietta. She’d been here, recently from the sounds of it. While Carson was a world-class liar, he didn’t have enough information, or time for that matter, to weasel her whereabouts from this man. At least not entirely. And he could hardly use his credentials since he wasn’t supposed to be looking into any of this.
“No, but I do need to speak with her. It’s a matter of some urgency.” The specter squinted at him, and Carson threw out the one thing that made most men rush forward with information—at least when it came to women. “I have reason to believe her life is in danger. The sooner—”
The idiot didn’t change his suspicious expression; he just reached into his pocket. Without hesitating, Carson dropped the concerned citizen attitude, grabbed him and threw the man against the nearest wall. A derringer tumbled from his fingers, and Carson kicked it into the depths of the empty warehouse. The re-emerging sun shone through the windows and glinted on the metal as it spun across the floor. “Let’s try this again, Mr....”
“Harkner,” the man squeaked. “Jebediah Harkner. Please...I’m just a banker. I’m only here to make sure the property is ready to sell.” All pretense of bravery slipped away. Harkner’s face was a mask of terror: eyes wide and darting, breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
“Well, Jeb, I really don’t have time to play nice with you. I actually do need to speak to Miss Mason, so now would be the ideal time for you to tell me where to find her.” When Harkner didn’t answer quickly enough, Carson grabbed him by the throat with one hand and lifted him off the ground. The other hand went into his pocket. “Though you had no compunction about violence, I’d prefer to not resort to that in order to get an answer.”
Harkner’s gaze shifted to the pocket, even as he struggled to breathe. Carson’s hand flexed under the cloth as dust motes danced in the air around them, sparkling in the wan sunlight. The words rushed from the man on a single breath. “She’s the medical officer on the Dark Hawk, an airship docked at the main hangar not far from here. If she isn’t there right now, she will be soon. They’re set to return to the Badlands tonight.”
The Badlands? She hadn’t been kidding when she’d said her father sent her away from society. That was some good news at least. It should put her out of the reach of the mafia—if they didn’t know about her working on the airship.
“Was that so hard?” He lowered Harkner to the floor. “Now you’re going to sit here quietly while I step outside. If you stay, I’ll let you go, but if you move, it just means I have to find you. Neither one of us wants that, do we?”
Jebediah Harkner was still shaking his head as Carson shut the door behind him. Hell, the banker was probably still doing it when Carson hailed a steam carriage at the corner three blocks down.
Perched on the edge of the seat as the wheels sloshed through puddles outside, Carson wondered for the briefest second if he should have dragged Harkner with him. The man could’ve been lying. Carson couldn’t dismiss the possibility, but everyone knew Mason had sent his daughter away a few years earlier. Everything official said she’d gone to the far reaches of the earth studying medicine. There had been a bit of a fuss made by people saying her father had put her life in jeopardy. The fools didn’t know what they were talking about. If anything, sending her to the Badlands had removed her from danger.
And now that very menace was likely closing in on her.
* * *
Since she’d moved from the Dark Hawk’s lone stateroom, the simple crew quarters had become the closest thing Henri had to a home. Bed, desk, closet and nightstand all standard issue, the gilt-edged mirror hanging over the desk the one visible nod to her society upbringing. Henri took off her dress—the same one she’d worn to her father’s memorial—and hung it up, smoothing her hand over the rich dark gray brocade. Appearances were everything. Before Henri had left the Badlands, Queen Laurette had pulled her aside and insisted the real circumstances of her father’s death be kept quiet. “There’s no reason to incite more difficulties between our nations, and I would hate to have the Union believe we countered my mother’s assassination with that of your father.”
They both knew her father hadn’t been assassinated. Princess Everette—Henri sneered—had killed him in defense of the new queen, and in self-defense as well. Henri could have told everyone the truth, but Laurette was right. The government wouldn’t want to believe the truth. They’d rather swallow a lie that would lead to war.
So Henri had bought the dress for the memorial, keeping up appearances through the entire ordeal. She’d even managed tears. No one needed to know they weren’t for her father.
Now, away from the prying eyes of her society friends, she shoved away her finer things. A flight to the Badlands didn’t require her to dress formally—especially since travel in recent months had involved blood as often as not. She pulled out a dingy blue bustle-skirt and slipped it on with a clean shirt. The gold threads on her navy corset had started to come unwoven; she’d need to see if she could repair it. Heedless of the damage, she put it on, tug
ging the laces until the boning pressed against her ribs hard enough to make her eyes well up. The laces loosened slightly as she sucked in a breath, and she tied them tight.
Removing her hat, she took a moment to make sure her hair was in place. The mirror—the one gift from her father she hadn’t been able to part with yet—showed a woman much like the one that had stared at her six months before. Same figure, same hair, same clothes. Only now it all looked worn and tired, as if she had been left in the desert too long. More than the twenty-seven years claimed by the calendar lined Henrietta’s face. Too many cares. Too many worries. Too much death. Retiring from this life was rapidly becoming a necessity rather than an option.
“If you watch that glass long enough, does it turn into something else?”
Henrietta turned toward the tall, curvy brunette leaning casually in the doorway. The way her hand dangled by her hip suggested she didn’t have a care in the world. Henri knew better—the position just kept the Badlands warrior’s fingers closer to her weapons. This was no social call. “Can I help you with something, Catherine?”
“The captain wants your cargo secured so we can take off. There’s been some...unusual activity in the hangar, and he wants to be in the sky in case there’s trouble brewing.”
She gave a curt nod. If Spencer was worried then they’d be in the air soon whether her father’s things were stored or not. He’d become very cautious since he met Ever, taking more care in some strange attempt to balance the princess’s impetuousness.
Watching as Catherine narrowed her eyes, Henri couldn’t decide which of the women she preferred to have onboard. Catherine’s disdain and suspicion were almost worse than Ever’s hostility. Of course, Ever at least had a reason for the hatred.
“Is there something else?”
Catherine tipped her head toward the wall, her simple braid bobbing with the motion. “The mirror. Does it do anything?”
“Do anything?”
Seleste deLaney - [Badlands 02] Page 4