The Girl in the Clockwork Collar (Steampunk Chronicles #2)(50)

“Whip Kirby wants to see me,” he informed Sam. “He’s downstairs now.”

“What the devil does he want?” Sam demanded, scowl back in place.

“I don’t know, but perhaps he has information about Jasper or Dalton. I’m going to meet with him.”

“You sure you’re up to that?”

Griffin nodded as he rose from the chair. “I feel much more myself, now that I’ve bathed and eaten. I’m certain I can give Mr. Kirby a few moments of my time.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No thank you. I need you here in case Finley comes by or sends another message. Is Emily still at Tesla’s?”

Sam’s brows clenched. “Yes. Finds him bloody fascinating, she does.”

Griffin offered a supportive smile. “It would be the same if you met the author of some of those dime novels you like so much. She respects his mind, Sam. And he’s impressed by hers—that’s all. He’s old enough to be her father.”

Thankfully, Sam did not remind him of how many society marriages joined an older man with a much younger lady. “You’re right. I just hoped with Renn out of the picture that we might spend some time together.”

“You could always pick her up and cart her off,” Griffin suggested with a grin. “If that doesn’t get her attention, nothing will.”

Sam seemed to consider this a viable plan. He helped Griffin into his coat and was left pondering aloud the possibility of perhaps having an entire pie sent up.

Griffin took the lift down to the foyer, his dislike of small spaces raising its head just enough to make his heart beat faster. If it weren’t for the lad operating the bloody thing, he’d probably break out in a sweat. His fear was always calmed by having another person with him.

He adjusted his coat sleeves as he stepped out into the blessedly large entry area and spotted Kirby standing not far away. He started toward the older man.

“Your Grace! How delightful to see you again!”

Griffin stifled a groan as he recognized who had stopped him. He turned to the petite blonde with a forced smile. “Miss Astor-Prynn. Good afternoon. I trust this afternoon finds you well?”

She rolled her bright blue eyes. “You would not believe the day I’ve had, Your Grace. First my maid—” she jerked her head toward the timid-looking little thing standing a few feet behind her “—ruined my favorite hair ribbons, and then Cook served the most dreadful luncheon, and my dressmaker had to cancel my appointment, because she was bitten by a spider and is under the weather. I swear, it is impossible to find good help these days.”

Sweet Hades. Could she honestly be this shallow? Yes, he could see it in her face; she could. “My sympathies. I hate to be rude, but I must ask you to excuse me. I am on my way to meet someone.”

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. The pressure didn’t hurt, but made his wounds itch uncomfortably. She wore a large-brimmed hat decorated with ostrich plumes, and when she leaned in closer to him, the feathers almost brushed his face. He had to blow on them to keep them away.

“I do hope you’re feeling better after that unfortunate … altercation the other night. Why, you don’t even have a bruise!”

Of course he didn’t—the Organites made certain of that. “Yes, well, like I said to the police, I’m fairly certain the girl used chloroform or something similar. She couldn’t have knocked me out otherwise.” Thank God the authorities had agreed with him. That was easier to understand than the fact that Finley was extraordinary—not that he could have told them that, anyway.

“I am very glad to see that you survived the ordeal unscathed. My shoulder still aches where the awful creature ran into me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps you should see a doctor.” Perhaps she could do that right now and leave him alone. He was in no mood to flirt and be charming; he wasn’t very skilled at it even on a good day.

The girl waved a dismissive hand. She was a pretty little thing, but something about her got under his skin and annoyed him—like a tick. “It’s nothing serious, and it won’t stop me from attending the theater tomorrow night. Will you be there, Your Grace?”

“Which theater is that?”

She laughed, as if she thought he was trying to be funny. “Why, the Olympia, of course! It’s the only one with a production worth seeing at the moment.”

Could that be the theater where Finley and Dalton would be? It seemed a little too coincidental not to be. “Is that so? I may have to attend, then. I’ve heard the theater in New York is tremendous.”

She shrugged. “Though nothing like the London stage, I’m sure. After all, you have Lillie Langtry.”

“I believe she’s moved to this side of the pond,” he replied with the one bit of information he knew about the aging actress. Kirby still stood by the wall, watching them. He redoubled his efforts to extricate himself. “Miss Astor-Prynn, will you excuse me? I’m supposed to meet someone, and he’s waiting for me.”

The blonde smiled prettily. “Of course. I hope to see you tomorrow evening.” Then she offered her hand, and he was forced to take it in his own and kiss the air above her knuckles. It would have been rude of him not to.

He said goodbye and turned toward his next visitor with a sigh of relief. He felt as though he had just been pulled out of the path of a runaway carriage.