The Girl in the Clockwork Collar (Steampunk Chronicles #2)(31)

She tucked a strand of black-streaked honey hair, which had fallen loose, behind her ear. “I reckon I’m the last person you expected to see here.”

“You’ve got that right,” he replied as he approached her, still frowning. “What are you doing here?”

When she moved around to the front of the desk, he saw that she was wearing an evening gown that fit her almost perfectly and made her skin look as smooth as cream. She looked lovely. Then again, he was beginning to think the girl could wear a sackcloth and he’d still fancy her.

“Committing robbery. It’s a test to prove myself to Dalton,” she told him. “I didn’t know this was the party you were invited to.”

Griffin tried not to stare at her bare shoulders—he had seen them before, but with her all dressed up, looking like a debutante, it seemed different. “Robbery? Good Lord, Fin! What if you get caught?”

A lopsided smile curved her lips. “I have been caught—by you.”

His scowl returned. “Did Dalton give you the dress?”

She flounced the skirt of the gown. “Yeah. Not bad, eh? He picked it out.”

Griffin’s eyes closed. Silently, he swore. “What did you steal?” Since Dalton had whipped by him like the house was on fire, he determined that the outlaw must have whatever they had been looking for in his possession.

“Floor plans for the New York Museum of Science and Invention.”

He cleared his throat. “What does he want with those?”

“Dunno. As soon as I find out, I’ll let you know. I think this will secure me a place within the gang.”

She didn’t have to sound so bloody pleased about it, though he had to admit he was proud of her. “Have you spoken to Jasper?”

“Not yet, but I will. He hasn’t ratted me out, so I’m pretty certain he’s not with Dalton of his own choice.”

Griffin rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t like this.”

Talking her out of this was not an option, not if they were going to help Jasper—or determine if Jasper even needed their help. Her plan was working. Still, Griff wished there was another way. If she was caught, arrested … He didn’t know if even he could help her. Worse, there was a slight gleam in her eye that worried him. Was she enjoying this bit of crime and intrigue?

Was her darker side going to prove to be dominant over the light?

“It’s getting late,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “I need to get back before Dalton starts to wonder where I am.”

He nodded. “How will you leave?”

“Out the front door. I doubt the carriage will still be waiting. I’ll have to get a cab.”

“A hack?” He didn’t mean to sound alarmed. “A hired driver could tell police about the girl he delivered to Reno Dalton’s doorstep.”

Finley shook her head. “I’ll get out a block earlier.”

He didn’t like not being in control. He didn’t like not being able to protect her—never mind that she was more than capable of protecting herself. But instead of ranting about it, he only nodded. “I’ll check the corridor.”

“Griffin, you can’t be seen helping me.”

He didn’t listen. Instead, he went to the door and opened it just enough to peek out into the corridor. Miss Astor-Prynn was headed in their direction. “Damnation,” he muttered. “You’d better hide. We’ve company coming.”

“I have a better idea.” Her voice came from directly behind him.

He turned his head. “What’s that?”

He barely saw her fist before it connected with his jaw. Pain exploded in his skull, and then everything went black.





Chapter 7


Finley caught Griffin as he fell and lowered him gently to the carpet. “Forgive me,” she whispered, but he was out cold.

She leaped to her feet, gathered her skirts and bolted from the room. Her shoulder collided with a pretty but snooty-looking girl who made some snide remark. Finley really didn’t care what this bit of fluff thought of her. What concerned her was what Griffin was going to think of her once he woke up.

Actually, at that moment, what concerned her most was getting out of this bloody house before the police were called. Sometimes—most times—she enjoyed a good fight, but she didn’t want to call any more attention to herself than she had to. Plus, Griffin would be ridiculed for being knocked out by a girl, so the less people who knew about that the better.

She’d only done it so he wouldn’t try to help her and cause trouble for himself. She’d brought a far bit of it down on him in London and had no desire to do the same to him now.

Thankfully, the loud music would mask any noise she made. Still, there were a few guests who stopped to stare as she raced by them, skirts hiked up around her knees.

At the top of the stairs, she leaped into the air, dropped in a flutter of petticoat and silk, and landed in a crouch at the bottom, the jolt reverberating in her shins. Then she sprang up, toward the door. Angry voices rang out behind her. Someone shouted, “Stop her!”

The poor footman tried to oblige, but she pushed him aside. The automaton next to him wasn’t programmed for security, so it didn’t even move.

Down the steps she ran, into the night. A steam carriage passed by, and she ran for it, hopping easily onto its back and clinging to the bar. She couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder at the small crowd gathered in front of the house, spilling down the steps to the street. A tall man shook his fist at her.