Rebel Magisters (Rebel Mechanics #2)(8)
“That’s why we’re doing this, isn’t it? So everyone can make the most of themselves without artificial limits.”
He looked at me in a way that made me feel quite naked, in spite of the many layers of clothing I wore. “And how must you feel, having to hide what you are when you have so much power? It’s not just us, is it? You can’t tell your Mechanic friends, either.”
“They’re coming to accept you—or at least your help—so perhaps one day they’ll look beyond their view that power is inevitably a corrupting force. For now, though, I’m afraid you’re right. They wouldn’t look kindly upon me if they knew I was even a half-magister.”
“Then if I need to remember why I’m doing this, why our cause is just and important, I’ll think of you, Verity.”
The intensity of his gaze might have burned away at least one layer of clothing if it had been sustained for long. I got to my feet so hastily that I wobbled slightly. I hurried to steady myself before he noticed and offered me any assistance. I was afraid that his touch would be more than I could bear at the moment. “I—I really should be—” I stammered.
“Yes, quite,” he said as he jumped to his feet. He stumbled as he took a step forward, barely catching himself on the corner of his desk. “Good evening, Miss Newton. Pleasant dreams.”
“And you, too, Lord Henry.” I placed my tea cup on his desk rather than hand it to him and risk any accidental touch between us.
I forced myself to walk serenely to my room rather than running headlong down the hall the way I wanted to. What had just happened? He’d acted nearly as flustered as I’d felt. For a moment, I let myself revel in the warm glow that thought engendered, but I reminded myself that it hardly mattered. The world really would have to change for it to be even remotely possible.
It occurred to me as I took down my hair and brushed it out that I somehow seemed to have become a rallying figure for two different rebel movements. My status caught between worlds was motivating Henry’s fight for freedom, and as my newspaper alter ego, Liberty Jones, I was such a symbol of the Rebel Mechanics that there was an airship named after me—well, sort of. That was rather astonishing for a mousy, bookish governess.
Instead of going to bed, I wrote an article on the plan to produce more machines and the need for funding, proposing that patriotic citizens collect pennies in a Liberty Jar for the cause. I feared that would raise morale more than it did money, but I thought it might be easier to get wealthy magisters to contribute if they thought the Mechanics were doing their part, as well.
The only way we had a prayer of winning our freedom was if both sides could overcome their prejudices and work as one. It was a nice thing to envision, but was it remotely possible?
Chapter Three
In Which
an Unsuitable
Attachment Forms
The next afternoon, I was leaving my room to accompany Flora on a round of social calls when Henry approached me. “Could you do me a favor, Miss Newton? I’d like you to leave these for me on your calls,” he said, handing me several calling cards and a list. I felt the tingle of magic in the cards and imagined they contained more information than his name, title, and address.
“Your messages to potential investors?” I concluded.
We went down the stairs, speaking softly. “Some of them. If we’re ever to reach our maximum impact, we’ll need to start quietly enough that it goes unnoticed, and working in these circles will require us to be very careful. One false step, and word may get to the wrong people at the highest levels.” His eyes glittered, and I knew he’d found a new dare to replace train robbery. “You dropping off calling cards for me shouldn’t look at all suspicious.”
“Don’t you have magical means of communicating?”
“None that are truly secure. It goes to the home rather than to an individual.”
Flora joined us in the foyer. She swept down the front steps toward the waiting carriage with me in her wake. Although we were nearly the same age, I felt worlds apart from her. She was bright and glittering, the kind of girl everyone noticed, while I was the sort of girl no one noticed. We had very little in common for conversation, as she talked of little but dresses and balls, and my circumstances didn’t lead to those things being important parts of my life. I had attended one ball, and only as a chaperone. I doubted Flora would much care for talk of revolution, and I knew she disliked discussing books.
She took the forward-facing seat in the carriage, and I sat across from her, where even though she looked directly at me she pretended not to see me. I tried not to react to her obvious snobbishness. If Henry had seen it, he would have scolded her, and that would only have made her dislike me more.
When the carriage stopped at our first destination, she finally acknowledged my presence. “You are merely here for propriety, remember,” she snapped. “Do not embarrass me. Henry may be casual with you, but I remember your real place.”
“Yes, Lady Flora,” I said as meekly as I could bear to.
The footman handed her down and earned a scowl from her by also helping me. He ignored her scowl, probably because he remembered who his employer was and what he would want. I gave him a nod of thanks before following Flora up the steps to a grand mansion just a few blocks down Fifth Avenue from our home.