Rebel Magisters (Rebel Mechanics #2)(3)

I heard a loud, “Oh! Excuse me, sir! Oh dear, I seem to have spilled it on you. I’m so very, very sorry,” behind me and resisted the temptation to look back. A moment later, there was a shrill scream and a cry of, “Help! Police!” from a side street. Several soldiers went running.

I took advantage of the distraction to duck into a bookshop, where I told the yellow-haired man at the counter, “I need a getaway.”

A man lurking in the shop came forward and unlocked a door that led to steep stairs into a basement. This time, I wasn’t blindfolded. As many times as I’d used the secret subway, there was no longer any point in hiding its location from me. I felt my way through the darkness to the station.

The station was nearly empty, just a few people keeping the system running. A car waited at the platform. “Only a couple of stations uptown, please,” I said as the operator helped me board. “I need to look like I’m getting home a normal way.”

The car shot forward, and in no time at all it stopped. I felt my way through a dark passage from the station to a staircase, where I rapped on the door at the top in a certain pattern. The door opened, and I found myself in a florist shop. “It looks like it’s clear here,” the florist said, handing me a bouquet to add to my basket.

I strode confidently out of the shop and hailed a magical horseless cab. Only when I was inside and on my way home did I let myself relax at all. There was still a chance that the authorities could be waiting for me at home, but they would have no evidence against me unless that soldier at the laundry had confiscated the bundle I’d dropped off there. Otherwise, it appeared that my growing network had done its job.

Six weeks ago, I’d never have imagined I’d have so many friends who would jump into action to aid me. I’d had no one, not even family. My network of friends was rather odd in that I knew none of their names, and few of them knew mine. It was safer that way. But we could count on each other, and we all usually went unnoticed because we were the invisible people: the shopgirls, laundresses, governesses, maids, and others whom society relied upon but otherwise didn’t notice.

The cab stopped in front of the Lyndon mansion across from Central Park, and Mr. Chastain, the butler, was immediately there to pay the fare and help me down from the carriage. I barely made it into the house before Lord Henry Lyndon, my employer, accosted me in the foyer and pulled me into the drawing room.

“Where have you been?” he demanded, gripping my shoulders tightly. “I was expecting you an hour ago. Did something go wrong? I knew I shouldn’t have sent you.”

“I was a little worried about someone who might have been following me, but I seem to have successfully eluded him,” I said.

Henry went pale, and his grip on my shoulders tightened. “You were followed?”

“Briefly. But my behavior while he followed me was above reproach, and with some help I was able to get away. It would be impossible for him to have tailed me home, and by the time my friends were through with him, he would have no way of knowing which girl he was watching.” I was nearly as nondescript as my follower had been, so I was sure the other girls with baskets had thrown him off the trail.

He released his hold on my shoulders, but he still stood very close. “Why would you be followed?”

“It’s the café,” I guessed. “It’s a known meeting place, and I was perhaps too familiar with the waitress. I’ll have to avoid it in the future.”

“The café?”

“I stopped to write an article. It seems that at least some of the troops quartered in that area will be leaving soon.”

For a moment, I was afraid that Henry’s worry would turn to anger. My errand had been to deliver the money for him. Everything else I’d done had been on my own. He knew about my other activities and generally endorsed them, but perhaps I shouldn’t have jeopardized his mission.

“You weren’t followed from the laundry?”

“If I was, there was no evidence whatsoever of any other ill-advised behavior,” I assured him.

“I’m going to quit using you as a courier like that,” he said as the color gradually returned to his face. “It’s too dangerous, and I can’t ask you to take that risk for me.”

“Well, since you’ve stopped pulling off armed robberies for the time being, you shouldn’t have much need of a courier for awhile,” I shot back.

He grinned. “Touché, Miss Newton. But really, Verity, we must be careful.”

“I’m always careful. And as I said, I have friends looking out for me.”

I thought for a moment that he might say something more—he always seemed to be on the verge of saying more to me when we talked like this—but a small figure flew into the room. “Miss Newton! Did you bring me anything?” Olive cried out as she threw her arms around me.

“Olive, Miss Newton is under no obligation to bring you anything when she runs errands,” Henry said, scolding his niece.

“No, I am not,” I said, unable to restrain a smile. “But on this one occasion, I did happen to pass a candy store.” I took the bag of candy out of my basket and handed it to her. “But you must share with your brother and sister.”

“Flora won’t want any. She’s watching her figure,” Olive said with all the disdain a six-year-old could muster for a teenage sister.