The Girl in the Clockwork Collar (Steampunk Chronicles #2)(75)

“He says he wants in on whatever we plan for Dalton. He wants to be able to drag the rascal back to San Francisco in chains.”

“I think we can oblige him,” Griffin replied with a smile. “Emily, send a note round to Tesla tomorrow morning, will you? Tell him I’m willing to let him study me if he’ll let me practice on some of his machines.”

*

She had no clothes.

This unhappy realization came to Finley shortly after she woke up on the desk in Griffin’s room. The corset she had been wearing earlier was ruined. Her shirt was in even worse condition. Her pantaloons were filthy from landing on the ground and also stained with blood. The only thing she had that was reasonably clean were her stockings.

And she didn’t have much in her room here at the hotel, either, as she had taken all of her clean clothes with her to Dalton’s. Nothing of Emily’s would fit, so that left her with one other option.

Griffin.

She held the sheet around her as she hopped off the desk. Her back itched and stung a little—like a rash or several nasty bug bites—but it wasn’t anything too painful. She owed Emily a big hug for digging all the glass out and not severing her spine. Good show. Though, she had a morbid curiosity about whether or not her spine would have healed.

Tucking one end of the sheet under her arm so it wouldn’t fall, she opened the wardrobe and surveyed the clothing inside. Griffin was tall, but he was lean, so his clothing should fit reasonably well. She took a pair of gray trousers, a white shirt and a waistcoat. Then she dumped her bounty onto the bed and proceeded to get dressed, keeping her ears sharp for the sounds of anyone approaching. She’d be mortified if one of the boys came in and caught her starkers.

First, she stepped into the trousers. They were way too long and a little snug in the hips, but they’d do. The shirt was also long and just fit around her chest. She tucked the tails into the pants and rolled up the sleeves before putting the waistcoat on over top. It acted like a corset, protecting her modesty and providing support—and, it looked pretty bloody sharp, if she said so herself. She tucked the long trouser legs into her boots and tightened the laces.

Finally ready, and resisting the urge to scratch at her back, Finley walked to the door and wrapped her fingers around the knob. A thought stopped her. A memory, actually.

She remembered hearing Griffin and Emily talking. Had she dreamed it, or was it real? Griffin had said he didn’t know if he could trust her, and then Emily had asked if she was worth the risk. What had he said in reply? She couldn’t remember.

A vaguely sick feeling squirmed in her stomach. If Griffin didn’t know if he could trust her … Oh, bugger it. If Griffin was in doubt, she would just have to remove that doubt. Simple as that. Hadn’t he convinced her that he was different from the other spoiled rich boys she’d encountered?

As she strode from the room, she suddenly understood why Emily liked to wear masculine garb. It was very liberating. Comfortable, too.

When she reached Sam’s room, she heard multiple voices chattering. Making plans for bringing down Dalton, no doubt. Hopefully making plans to return to England, as well. New York was lovely, but she wanted to go home. Wanted to curl up with a book in front of one of the many windows in Griffin’s library. Wanted to get some decent fish and chips.

All heads turned when she entered the room. The most comical expression had to belong to Griffin, whose jaw dropped when he saw what she was wearing.

“Hope you don’t mind,” she said. “All my clean clothes are at Dalton’s.”

“Not at all,” he replied with a shake of his head. There was something in his gaze that told her he liked how she looked in his clothes. It had to be a bloke thing, because she certainly wouldn’t want to see him wearing hers.

“Do we have a plan yet?” she asked, sitting down next to Griffin on Sam’s bed. Emily came over and gave her a gentle hug, mindful of her back. Finley squeezed her tight and murmured thanks in her ear.

“We’re getting there,” Griffin told her. “We know that there’s close to a one hundred percent chance that Dalton will go after the treasures on display by the Historical Society at the Museum of Science and Invention. I can get us into the gathering. If Dalton brings the device in with him, Emily will shut it down if she can get to it. If not, I will, using the Aether. Then we nab him and hand him over to Whip Kirby.”

“And then we’re back to London?” She wasn’t able to keep the hope from her voice.

Griffin smiled. “Then back to London.”

Finley turned to Jasper. She had grown to know and like him even more over the past few days. “You’re coming with us, right?”

He managed a smile, but she saw the sadness and betrayal in his green eyes. Poor thing. She just wanted to hug him. She’d kick Mei’s tiny little arse for doing this to him. She and Dalton deserved each other.

“I might take a trip home to San Francisco first. Been a while since I last saw my family. ’Sides, Whip might need some help escorting Dalton and … the others back. I would like to return to England after that. If you have room for another.” This last part was directed at Griffin.

“Have you seen my house?” Griffin asked drily. “You could bring your entire family with you, and I’d still have room. We’d be glad to have you.”

“I suppose you might be useful,” Sam commented, but even he was smiling.