The Girl in the Clockwork Collar (Steampunk Chronicles #2)(46)

Finley’s fingers clenched into tight fists, her nails dug into her palms. The pain kept her in control, because Dalton’s face looked like a perfect target. “None of your business,” she replied.

“It is too my business,” he replied with a scowl as he strode toward her, looking sinisterly handsome in his dark gray suit. “You work for me.”

“Not that I’ve seen one cent,” she retorted—as though money mattered. “And I might work for you, but you don’t own me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Your loyalty is to me.”

Finley scoffed. She wasn’t certain if she was looking for a fight or to get herself kicked to the curb. “I’m just hired muscle to you, so don’t preach to me about trust and loyalty, Dalton.”

He shook his head, dark hair waving about his face, and folded his arms across his chest. “Ain’t you full of gumption this morning? Someday you’re going to talk back to someone who doesn’t find it half as charming as I do, Miss Finley. Then you’re going to be in trouble.”

He was right, and she despised him for it. She could take care of herself and most threats that came her way, but someday her temper was going to get her into a situation she couldn’t simply smash her way out of.

“I don’t have many friends,” she admitted, “but one of the few I do needed my help, and I went. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it was an emergency, and to be honest, you were the last thing on my mind.”

It wasn’t difficult to meet his gaze because what she told him was the truth. He watched her for a moment. Blokes had looked at her in similar ways before. In fact, Lord Felix had worn a similar look right before she kicked him in the forehead. She knew she should be afraid of him—was stupid not to be—but she just couldn’t bring herself to feel any fear. He just annoyed her. Finally he nodded. “I admire a person with a sense of loyalty. I have no objection to you having outside interests, but when you’re with me, I want to be your top priority.”

Griffin was her top priority. “Fair enough,” she lied. “I’d like to go clean up, if that’s all right with you.”

“Sure. You’ll want to get that gown I gave you ready to wear. Tomorrow night, we’re going to the theater. Apparently you and Jasper have work to do there.”

The final piece of the machine was in a theater? Tricky, but at least she wouldn’t have to fight anyone for it—or rather, she assumed she wouldn’t. “That won’t take me all day. Is there anything else that needs to be done?”

He waved a hand in the air. “Nothing you need to be concerned with. The boys will take care of it.”

Finley didn’t argue. The free time would give her the chance to poke about a bit—see if she could find out just what Dalton was up to. What she really needed to do was get word to Griffin that they were going after the final piece, and where. That only gave them a little over twenty-four hours to figure out what the machine was and what Dalton planned to do with it.

She just hoped it wasn’t too late.

Finley took her leave of Dalton and jogged upstairs to the room she had been given. It was nice—nothing like the one she had at Griffin’s, though. Once the door was closed behind her, she withdrew her pocket telegraph from a secret pouch sewn inside her corset. Quickly, she sent a message to Griffin, saying that they were going to the theater the next night and that she would provide more details when she had them. She didn’t want him pushing himself to be there, but he had to make plans.

She wasn’t going to try to fix this on her own, no matter how much she wanted to. Leaving Griffin out would only make things worse, of that she was certain.

As water filled the tub in the bathroom she shared with Mei, Finley gathered up her soaps and creams and the silk kimono Griffin had bought her when she first came to his house. She hugged the garment to her chest, as though it was her only link to him.

She had been so relieved last night when she opened her eyes and found Griffin watching her. She’d never been so happy in her entire life.

Since she’d met him, she’d bounced back and forth between wanting to be with him and wanting to run away. She told herself they couldn’t be together while secretly hoping that they could. Yesterday she’d almost lost him, and now she couldn’t think of anything that mattered more than being with him. Worry about what people would think or say was stupid under those circumstances.

Now she just had to figure out what to do about it. When they got back to London, they’d figure it out.

And that was all the thought she’d give it for today—her head was too tired. She turned the taps on the tub, undressed and slipped into the hot water with a sigh.

She must have dozed off, because by the time she came to her senses, the water had cooled and she resembled a prune from shoulders to toes. She jumped up, sloshing water over the sides, pulled the plug and set about drying off.

When she returned to her room with her bundle of dirty clothes, she found Mei sitting on her bed. The girl looked like a porcelain doll in her high-necked violet gown, her thick hair piled on top of her head. For a prisoner, she was sure kept in fancy clothes.

Good thing she’d taken her telegraph machine into the bathroom with her and now had it in the pocket of her kimono. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Mei glanced up from the book in her hands. Finley recognized it as her copy of Pride and Prejudice—the book she was reading for the sixth time. “Waiting for you,” the girl replied. Her English was excellent, touched by just the faintest Chinese accent. “I thought maybe you had drowned in there.”