Cogs in Time Volume Three (The Steamworks Series Book 3)

by Catherine Stovall

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Simone shook her head. “I'm sure that we don't travel in the same circles. Lady?”

  If it was possible, the girl stood straighter. “I'm Catherine Greenfield of the New Orleans Greenfields. I have money I can give you. If you let us stay.” Her hand lingered near a purse attached to her belt.

  Simone ignored her. Instead, she took in the familiar surroundings of the entrance to the shop. When the original owners had vacated, they’d left an empty cash register and some tools of the trade. Now, there were two black-hooded robes hung near the door, and the side that held the lock had been splintered. Well, that explains how they got in.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  “I wouldn’t touch your money.” Simone snorted and kept her head low, thankful that she hadn’t removed her hood. “Oh, I’ve heard of you and your family. What does your father think of his only daughter running away with the help?” Slavery was a horrible business, and the Greenfields “help” were not paid servants. Her own father’s one redeeming quality was that he hired people not collared to a master.

  Sadness and anger flashed behind Lady Greenfield’s gaze. Her hand moved away from her purse, and instead, clenched into a fist. “Am I always going to be judged for the deeds of my father? I am as much him as you are yours.”

  The boy gently touched her shoulder, and some of the tension left her as she smiled at him. “I left my father's estate. I refuse to be tarred with the same brush anymore. I only took as much as we needed. Robert got the tickets, and all we need is some place to hide until we can leave. My father's men are searching for us. They'll take me back home, but Robert . . .” Her hand rested on her stomach, her skin suddenly paler.

  Simone knew what the girl couldn't say. They would kill him. A law broken, especially one such as that, was only punished one way. Death. Quick and swift. To his credit, Robert didn't appear scared. No, he resembled something much more frightening than that. He was in love, and Simone guessed he would try to move the heavens if the Lady Greenfield asked it of him.

  Idiot.

  She could force them to leave. The girl had probably never fought a battle in her life. The act deemed unsuitable for a lady. Robert was a different story. He might be stronger, but Simone had lived on the cobblestone streets for months. She knew how to wield the sword in her hands. She hadn't taken a life yet, and she prayed that she wouldn't have to, but they didn't know that. Could she send them out knowing that, if caught, Robert wouldn't see the sunrise?

  “You aren't my problem.”

  “I know that. We won't be one.” Robert guided the lady to a chair and helped her sit. “I swear it will only be ‘til Tuesday.”

  Two days with strangers in her home, Simone couldn't shake the feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she should cast them out. “Fine, you can stay, but you don't leave here for anything. I won't risk peelers breaking through the door because one of you peeked out of a window. The rooms upstairs belong to me. If I find either of you up there,” Simone raised her sword slightly, “I'll hand you in myself.” It was an empty threat. She didn't want to risk moving in the circles she’d left behind. Six months hadn't changed her that much. It wouldn't take much for someone to recognise her and report back to her father. “Are we clear?”

  Even before she'd finished her sentence, Robert shook his head. “I have to leave to find food. We packed some, but it got lost in our escape.”

  Simone rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. It wasn't her problem. They weren’t her problem. If they wanted to play the part of young lovers, they would have to deal with the consequences. The thought had barely run through her mind, but Simone knew that it wasn't really a choice.

  They'd only made it as far as her home because of sheer luck. Simone swore under her breath and pulled out the loaf. Catherine’s blue eyes widened at the sight. It was probably the simplest meal she'd had but beggars couldn't be choosers. Simone tore the loaf in two, ignoring the way her stomach rumbled at half a meal lost, and chuck it at Robert—who caught it one handed.

  “Stay in.” She turned on her heels and walked back up the stairs, but before she reached the top, she stopped. “And fix the front door. There are some tools in the cupboard underneath the stairs. Barricade yourselves in.” She didn't wait for a reply. The long run through the town had worn her out and she needed to eat.

  There was something slightly odd in hearing voices when, for the longest time, she'd been used to silence. Well, if she didn't count the shouts of sellers when she stole something. Six months, and no real conversation. She talked to herself, which was surely a sign of madness, but had never bothered to make friends. There was a reward for her return—a tempting prize for anyone hungry enough to betray her. Her father played the role of concerned parent well. To the point that Simone could have been tempted to forget all the bad he'd put her through.

  Almost.

  Percy LeBeau was an architect and had made his business in building the stately homes found far from the bustling streets of the quarter. The only useful thing Simone had learnt from him was how to repair a building. He had never bothered to keep his disappointment hidden. He'd wanted a son, an heir to carry on the name of LeBeau, and someone who could carry on the family business. Simone was very much a girl and deemed unsuitable upon her birth.

  But she’d refused to bow to what was expected of her. A marriage of convenience to a man twice her age to solidify a business deal? Promised, a fancy word that boiled down to something simple. She'd been sold. The argument she'd had when she found out had resulted in a smack across the face. Her father had hit her before, but that had been the first time he'd left such a visible mark. Her mother, shocked, had sent her to her room, and for once Simone hadn't argued. Instead, she’d gathered a few things and fled.

  She sat in the window box. Her knees pulled up and against her chest. She didn't miss him. In truth, she didn't miss either of them. She hadn't been a daughter, but a pawn. A piece of a chessboard that they could move whenever they wanted. Simone desired freedom. She craved it. Even if she had to live day by day, it was better than what she’d left behind, but she wanted to be left alone.

  And, now, there were people downstairs.

  Simone closed her eyes and rested her chin on her knees. They’d been quiet during the night. The wind that also seemed to call the old shop home hadn’t swept through, and the lack of sound was eerie. She expected it, so when it wasn’t there, it was odd, to say the least.

  What do I do? She didn’t want to stay in her makeshift home. Staying meant making conversation, and the less she knew about their situation, the better. There was also a risk in leaving, especially if the men were still searching for her. With practiced ease, she moved away from the alcove and retrieved her boots. She’d tied the laces together when she’d taken them off, and she slung them over her shoulder. On the far left wall, she’d placed a map. She always tried to be aware of where she went and what she stole. One mistake, one slip up, and she’d be back in her own version of hell.

  With practised ease, she untied the laces, slipped her boots on, retrieved her hooded cloak and put it on as well. The less they saw of her face, the better.

  She made her way back down the stairs. Robert and Catherine sat at one of the tables. Whoever had abandoned the shop had left a few bits and pieces. Simone had no use for clock pieces and tools, but Robert looked intrigued as he picked up cogs. Catherine hadn't changed out of her dress and into something vaguely suitable, which probably meant that they hadn’t bothered to bring a spare change of clothes. The blue fabric appeared worn around the edges, and the bottom of her skirt was dark with dirt and rainwater. In her current state, she would draw attention as soon as she left the safety of the shop.

  Simone bit back a sigh, causing the duo to glance up as she descended the stairs. “I have clothes upstairs. Things I have borrowed. They'll be much more suitable than your current attire.” She might have left with the barest
of supplies, but she'd taken more than a few things that didn't belong to her.

  Catherine nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Don't thank me.” Simone waved her hand dismissively. “The sooner you people leave, the happier I'll be. I will be back soon. Don't leave the shop.” She turned around, about to head back upstairs and her own version of a front door, when she heard Robert snort.

  “So instead of being the prisoners of her father, we are now prisoners of yours?”

  His companion gasped. “Robert!”

  Simone spun around, her hood nearly falling away from her face. She tugged it back into place. “You are not my prisoners. It is none of your business, but I prefer to not draw any unwanted attention to myself.” A sigh of exasperation left her lips. “The only way you'll stay off her father's radar is if you keep off the streets. There is no telling how many men he has out searching for you both. Wait until you need to go to the ship.”

  Not waiting for a reply, she stalked back up the stairs, popped open the window and left them to their own devices. If they didn’t listen to her, then they only had themselves to blame if they were caught.

  Chapter Three

  Simone scaled up the side of the church, moving as nimbly as a cat being careful not to drop the apples she'd stolen a moment before, and came to a rest by a stone gargoyle. The face had been worn by age and nature’s elements, but the monstrous visage could still be clearly made out. Its stone wings were outspread, as if the artist had caught it in mid-flight. Simone ducked under the wing and sat down. There wasn’t much space for her but she pulled her legs up to her chest and made the best of it. A cold breeze, heavy with the promise of rain, drifted in from the bayou, and she breathed in deeply. New Orleans was her home. The smells and sounds were as familiar to her as her own voice.

  She could have risked trying to make her way back to the shop, but in truth, she desperately needed comfort that only her city could provide. Thick grey clouds filled the sky. Whatever colour that could be found in the quarter vanished, as if it had simply leaked away. Simone preferred the moments just before and after a storm. The air became heavy, as if it was a balloon filling with water before it broke under the weight. Then, the moments afterwards, the earth seemed renewed and cleansed. The air became richer, filled with promise, like an artist wiping the slate clean to start again.

  A trail of smoke appeared caught up by the wind a fraction before the train appeared. She’d often wondered what it would be like to leave the city and travel somewhere new. A place where no one knew her name or her parents.

  A different country perhaps? If things were different, would I be like Lady Catherine? Would I wait for a man to rescue me? The thought made her scoff. She didn’t need a man to rescue her. She’d run away on her own accord and had survived on her own. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d managed.

  So why stay in the city?

  Maybe she didn’t leave because it was the final tie to her old life. One that she wasn’t strong enough to cut.

  If her life was different, if she were different, maybe she would have been happy with her circumstances. Or maybe she was destined to be the thorn in her father’s side—the constant disappointment. If only her father wasn’t so unyielding. Percy LeBeau was firmly seated in the past. He would only accept the future of women kicking and screaming. He might not have believed in keeping slaves, but that didn’t mean he didn’t view his wife and daughter as property. Her mother might not have seemed to mind, but that didn’t mean Simone would be happy with the hand he dealt her.

  Simone opened the window to her room and climbed back in, shrugging off her cloak and hanging it on the coat hook. Droplets of rain dripped and pooled on the wooden slates before they vanished between the gaps. She really needed to change her clothes, but instead, she collected the apples from the folds of her cloak.

  A part of her whispered she could keep all of them. Her unwelcomed guests would be leaving in the morning and could fend for themselves. Why should she share more of her own food?

  She sighed heavily before she descended the stairs. Robert sat at one of the tables. His fingers laced together. The candle hadn’t been lit, and shadows danced across his face rendering him unreadable. In that moment, he appeared older. Simone couldn’t see the Lady, but placed her in the space Simone used as a kitchen.

  “I thought you might be hungry.” She rubbed one of the apples against her trousers and threw it at Robert.

  He caught it one-handed.

  “I also got one for Catherine. Is she in the kitchen?”

  He glanced up and swiftly got to his feet. “It’s okay. I think that she’d prefer to be left alone. I’ll take it.”

  Simone handed the spare one over and took a bite of her own. The juice ran down her chin, and she wiped it away with the back of her sleeve as he disappeared behind her, into the curtained off room.

  How quickly they’d made themselves at home. The thought irked her. She busied herself with retrieving the matches and lighting the candle, and a burst of heat caressed her face. As Robert re-entered the room, she realised two things. One she wasn’t wearing her robe and her face was exposed, and two, the bottom of his trousers were wet.

  She frowned slightly and quickly glanced up. He left the shop? Even after I told him not to? Sure, she’d know that they might break the rule, but still, the weather had been terrible. What could have possibly been so important that he’d risked such harsh elements?

  “Did she enjoy the apple?” Her mind raced as her stomach twisted in knots. Something was very wrong.

  “She did. Thank you.”

  Every part of her screamed to run, but Robert stood near the front door, leaning against it. With his arms folded against his chest, he looked unmovable.

  “Catherine isn’t in the kitchen is she?”

  He shook his head. “No, she’ll be waiting outside. She didn’t want to be here to witness this.”

  The ominous words and the way he gazed over her shoulder made her turn. A man stepped from the shadowy halls of the kitchen. His sheer size ate up the space. The beige shirt he wore, the collar of it damp, was worn and had seen better days. The bowler hat perched atop his head leaned at a cocky angle. Brown trousers and a waistcoat completed the look and helped Simone to place him as a hired hand. He was of the men from the multiple gangs that stalked the streets.

  She darted for the stairs, but the thug loomed over her. She spun on her heels and ran for the door, but Robert stepped forward.

  Trapped.

  A split second warning was all she had. She ducked and swayed as the thug grabbed air where her shoulder had been. Simone didn’t have a clue to what was going on, but she had an incline—one that she prayed wasn’t true.

  Had they seen my face? Do they know who I am? The questions went unanswered as she dashed for the stairs again.

  Robert tackled her around the waist. Simone stumbled and fell face first into the stairs. Pain erupted behind her eyes as something warm exploded against her face. The stranger yanked her to her feet, and she stomped her foot down against his. He swore, but his grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened.

  Simone tasted blood on her lips as Robert stepped into her line of vision.

  “What have you done?”

  The man’s hands tightened on her forearms, her chest pulled taut and shards of pain brought tears to hers eyes. Robert had the decency not to look at her. His arms were folded tight across his chest, and his gaze was on the floor.

  “I’m sorry. The captain raised the prices on the tickets. We could no longer afford it, and it is our only chance to get away. To start somewhere new. I promised her a life where she wouldn’t always be glancing over her shoulder. I promised her.”

  His last words were harder, unyielding, and Simone knew that there was no way to talk him into changing his mind. Her original assumption that he would move heaven and earth for the girl he loved had been proven true. The idiot.

  Simone struggled against the man who
held her. She didn’t recognize him as someone who worked for her father, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a possibility. “All you want is freedom, Robert. I understand that, and I will not judge you for it. I only want my freedom. I am meant to be free, not caged like a bird because of my father’s wishes.”

  For a split second, Simone thought he might change his mind, but he shook his head. “I’m sorry. The money has already been spent. In a few hours, we’ll be on the boat, heading towards a new life.” He turned away from her. “You will never win if it’s a choice between us and you.”

  She lunged for him but didn’t get far as a knee dug hard against her back and she fell to the floor. Instinctively, her hands shot out and stopped herself short of getting a mouthful of dirt. “You bastard. This isn’t over,” she shouted at his retreating back.

  The man behind her knelt down and roughly grabbed her. “Oh, wee lass, it is over. It’s time to see your father.”

  Chapter Four

  Not much time had passed since she’d last walked through the doors of her childhood home. She knew that, but there was something different, intangible about it. Her parents stood in the foyer. The small cache of servants they kept on staff was nowhere to be seen. It was possible that her parents had sent them away for the night, not wanting the shame of having to drag their daughter home to spread through the city.

  Her father, Percy, wore a tailored suit of rich blue. His steely blue eyes never left hers. Simone didn’t want to look away, but the intense stare made her glance at the floor. As soon as she did, she wished she could take it back. She wasn’t scared of her father. She wasn’t. Tears burnt the back of her eyes. They had caught her, and since she’d run before, they would make sure that she wouldn’t be able to again.

  Trapped. No. No. No.