The Girl in the Clockwork Collar (Steampunk Chronicles #2)(85)
Poor thing. She really just wanted to hug him and tell him it would be all right. Bloody hell, now she was starting to think like Emily. Next, she’d probably try bringing nice girls home to meet him.
“Maybe, Miss Finley. Maybe.”
Despite the gravity of their situation, their spirits were fairly high as they climbed into a shared cab that was fortunately large enough for the five of them—Sam took up the space of two people. And why shouldn’t their mood be bright? They knew what they had to do, how to do it and had the confidence that they would each be able to play their roles. Sam was their physical strength and would provide muscle, as would Finley. Emily was in charge of gadgets and anything mechanical. If she was able to get close to Dalton’s machine, she would be able to disarm it with a touch, but if she couldn’t, then Griffin would find its Aetheric signature and do it remotely. And Jasper would do anything that required speed or accuracy. The boy could shoot a marble at a hundred yards while at a dead run—faster than any of the rest of them could ever imagine.
And she … well, she was willing to play a little dirtier than her friends.
They would not let Dalton succeed, and they would certainly not let him escape. Finley was the only one who held the same determination where Mei was concerned. She would not allow the girl to get away after all she’d done to Jasper.
The Museum of Science and Invention was located in a fashionable neighborhood near 2nd Avenue and 11th Street. It was a stately stone building, which looked as though it might have been a wealthy family’s address rather than a place where art and scientific discoveries were displayed.
The area teemed with steam carriages, horses and street cars. Men and women in elegant clothes and glittering jewels streamed into the facility, their conversations a low buzz mingling with the sounds of the street and city.
Finley felt like a princess as she entered the society building on Griffin’s arm. She hadn’t said anything, but he looked absolutely gorgeous in his black-and-white evening clothes. Really, if she was honest with herself, she thought he’d look gorgeous in a burlap sack. Jasper and Sam looked very handsome, as well. It was odd to see Jasper in anything but his hat and casual kit.
The building was just as impressive inside as out. Pale walls showcased beautiful, colorful paintings of all sizes. Glass cases on tables and pedestals held delicate and priceless treasures.
“It’s amazing,” she breathed.
Griffin smiled at her. “We can go to some of these sort of events in London if you like.”
For a moment, Finley’s heart jumped at the idea, but then she remembered that she was not of the same social sphere as Griffin. Here, they could pretend, but back home, everyone would know she was lower-class and shun her. They might shun him, and she didn’t want to be responsible for that.
“Perhaps,” she replied around the fist-size lump in her throat and then glanced away before he could see the truth in her eyes—that they would never attend such an event in London.
Griffin didn’t seem to notice her change in demeanor, for which Finley was thankful. He turned to the rest of their party. “Keep your eyes open for Dalton or any of his gang. Check your communication devices.”
Emily offered each of them the small metal buds to put in their ears that amplified sound and voice. Each was attuned to the frequencies of their individual voices, so while they would pick up some background noise, they would amplify anything they wished to communicate with one another so that it could be heard by the rest, even in different parts of the building.
Each of them said something in a whisper and the others nodded if they heard it. When they were convinced the system was working, they split up: Finley and Griffin, Sam and Emily, and Jasper on his own. Since he would be a primary target for Dalton, the rest would make certain to keep an eye on him, as well.
Then they waited.
They mingled, ate, drank, but all the while, they were constantly on guard, waiting. It was exhausting. Mr. Tesla had recovered enough to join them but seemed uncomfortable with all the attention he garnered. He was so “twitchy” and withdrawn that Finley didn’t know if he’d be any help to them if they needed it—and the machine was his bloody creation.
Finally at half past eleven, Griffin suggested the inventor go home and get some rest. Tesla didn’t argue and quickly made his getaway.
“He’s an odd man,” Finley remarked.
Griffin stared at her as if she had just made a gross understatement. “You have no idea. Come on, let’s look at the ‘realistic’ automaton dog in the corner.”
They spent the next half hour visiting the exhibits, marveling at some, chuckling at others, all the while waiting for Dalton to strike. Finley knew she wasn’t the only one wondering if he had fooled them and actually had a different target in mind. Her anxiety grew with every tick of the clock.
Then at midnight, Dalton appeared. Literally, appeared. One moment, there was a wall with a schematic on it, and the next, Dalton stood in front of that drawing, Mei at his side.
They had walked through the wall.
Finley’s hand tightened on Griffin’s arm. “They’re here,” he murmured so that the others would know. “Far east wall.”
It was so tempting to jump on both of them right then, but Dalton hadn’t done anything wrong just yet, other than sneak in without an invitation. Hardly the sort of thing that warranted police attention. Whip would be waiting outside to swoop in when needed, just as Jasper would now make his way to the roof, where he would be less of a target and where he had set up a rifle earlier that day. From there, he would keep watch over Dalton’s carriage in case the criminal managed to escape the building.