The Girl in the Clockwork Collar
Page 13

The dining room was small, with a table set for four and accented with fresh flowers. The walls were painted a soft coral, and a sideboard of rich ebony held heated silver dishes. Their contents smelled delicious. Finley’s stomach growled softly.
Dalton held out a chair for her—at his right. He seated himself at the head of the table. He asked her several questions over dinner, which she assumed were to divine her character, though she was surprised by the seemingly genuine interest behind them. She tried to be as honest as possible, because lies were often difficult to remember, but avoided telling him anything too personal or anything that might link her to Griffin—or Jasper.
“I could use a girl like you, Finley,” he told her as he cut into a thick beefsteak.
Finley forced her lips into a coy smile. “I know. What did you have in mind?”
There was no mistaking the predatory interest in his eyes. “I’d like for us to work together as friends. But first, I need to know you’re right for the job. What would you say to a test?”
She chewed and swallowed the bite of potato in her mouth, appearing nonchalant, even though the palms of her hands grew moist. “What sort of test?”
“There’s a document I need in a house uptown. I’d like for you to go there with me and help me steal it.”
“Are there people in the house?” Her heart began to hammer in her chest. Anxiety or anticipation, she wasn’t certain.
“They’re having a party,” he replied with a grin. “Everyone will be nice and distracted.”
She’d never stolen anything before. Hitting people who deserved it was one thing, but stealing … It wasn’t as though she could refuse, though, could she? Not if she wanted to gain his trust. She glanced down at her clothes. “I’m not exactly dressed for a party.”
“I can fix that. All you have to do is be your lovely, ruthless self if we run into trouble. Are you game or not?”
It was all she could do not to look at Jasper for a sign of how she should respond. Instead, she grinned back, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. “Always.”
The house was huge and ornate, situated near the corner of 58th and 5th, not far from Central Park, in the wealthier section of the city. Lights blazed in the windows, carriages of different colors and sizes were parked out front, and music drifted down to the street, along with the sound of conversation and laughter.
All in all, it seemed everyone was having a bang-up time. Finley turned from the carriage window to Dalton. “How are we getting in?”
He leaned across her to glance outside. “I reckon we’ll saunter right on in through the front door.”
She raised a brow. “There’s an automaton guarding it.” She had taken on metal before, but wouldn’t it call attention to them if she ripped the thing apart on the front steps?
“You leave the tin can to me and keep those sharp eyes of yours peeled for any sign of trouble.”
A footman from the house opened the carriage door for them. Dalton stepped out and then offered Finley his hand. She had to give him credit for behaving exactly as he ought.
He looked the part of a gentleman, as well, dressed in a stark black suit with white shirt and cravat. He’d found a rich plum silk gown for her that fit remarkably well and had only needed to be let out a bit in the bust. Surprisingly, Dalton had taken care of the alteration himself on the spot.
“My father was a tailor,” he explained to her as he had pulled apart a seam. “His clients were San Francisco’s elite.” That explained his impeccable clothing.
Arm in arm, they climbed the steps to where the automaton stood along with another footman.
“There’s a man watching us from across the street,” Finley whispered near her companion’s ear. “I saw him earlier outside your house.” She’d noticed the man because he was dressed like a cowboy, and the only other cowboy she knew was Jasper.
Dalton didn’t bother to glance over his shoulder. He only smiled in that caustic manner of his. “That’s just Whip Kirby, a lawman who followed me from California. Don’t pay him any mind. He has no power here.”
Finley nodded, but she would keep a look out for the man later. He might prove useful one day.
Dalton approached the small polished automaton standing at the door. From the inside pocket of his evening jacket, he withdrew a punch card trimmed with paper lace and inserted it into the slot on the machine’s front. Then he turned the key to the right of the slot.
A whirling sound came from inside the creature. Cogs and gears came alive as the card was processed. The automaton chugged and clicked for a few seconds, then a bell dinged and a small bulb on top of its “head” lit up.
“Thank you, sir,” the footman said, opening the door for them to enter. “Enjoy your evening.”
The sharklike smile that was already becoming familiar to Finley slid across Dalton’s face. “We intend to.”
“How did you do that?” she whispered, once the door had closed behind them.
“I snagged the invitation during a poker game last week. Fella was so drunk he probably thought he lost it.”
Finley couldn’t help the appreciative smile that took hold of her lips. “I don’t suppose you were responsible for his drunkenness?”
“Not at all,” he replied so innocently that it was an obvious lie. “The papers I want should be in a study upstairs. Let’s find them before people start to realize no one knows us, shall we?”
She had to hike the skirts of her gown to keep from tripping as they climbed the winding staircase, but she kept up with his quick stride. At the top of the stairs, she tugged on his arm, forcing him to stop.
“They’ll notice you don’t belong a lot sooner if you don’t slow down. You look like a man on a mission rather than a party guest.”
Dalton immediately slowed his pace. “You’re right.” Then he snagged two glasses of champagne from a footman on his way to the ballroom and gave her one.
Because of her experience with wealthy houses, Finley had a fairly good idea where a gentleman’s study might be located. There were few enough people outside the ballroom that no one really noticed that they were peeking in rooms, but enough so that they didn’t stand out as the only couple.
The second door they opened proved to be the one they were looking for. Dalton shot her a triumphant glance. “Get in.”
“You say the sweetest things,” she cooed and slipped into the room. He followed and closed the door behind them with a soft click.
There wasn’t much light in the room—a lamp on the desk and a sconce on the wall—but it was enough. The room was large, definitely masculine with its oak wainscoting and dark green paper. The desk was huge, and a massive leather chair sat behind it.
“What are we looking for?” Finley asked, voice low.
“Floor plans,” he replied, riffling through a stack of papers. “They will be large sheets, either folded or rolled.”
She opened the top drawer of the cherrywood desk. “If they’re important, wouldn’t they be in a safe?”
“They’re only important to me.” He didn’t look up from his search but moved on to the other set of drawers. “To anyone else, they’re just pictures of a building.”
She wanted to ask what he wanted them for but didn’t want to give him reason to be suspicious of her. Instead, she kept pawing through the drawers.
“I like you, Finley,” Dalton commented, glancing up. “You don’t ask a lot of questions.”
So curbing her curiosity had been a good thing. She shrugged. “Part of my charm.” Something at the bottom of the drawer caught her eye, and she pulled it out. It was several large, folded sheets of paper with diagrams on each sheet. “Is this it?”
Dalton took them from her and unfolded them. She watched as pleasure softened his face. “They are indeed. Well done.”
She was a fool for praise and preened accordingly. Her enjoyment was short-lived, however, when they heard the doorknob turn, and the door started to creep open. They were caught.
The way Finley saw it, they had two choices—stay and pretend to be lovers sneaking off for a bit of privacy as Dalton had joked or make a run for it. Since they had what they came for, their best bet was to try to get out of there with as little fuss as possible.
“Go.” She jerked her head toward the opening door. “I’ll take care of it.”
Dalton stared at her for a split second before whirling toward the door. He pulled it the rest of the way open and brushed past the intruder. “You shouldn’t just walk in, son,” he said in a haughty tone. “You never know what you might see.” Then he disappeared from her sight.
Finley followed after him, but then the intruder turned his head, and his gaze locked with hers. She groaned. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She forced a smile. “Hullo, Griffin.”
He should have stayed in the ballroom—then he never would have known that Finley had snuck into the party with Reno Dalton. Instead, Griffin had fled the crowd to avoid interacting with Miss Lydia Astor-Prynn, a very determined young woman bent on landing herself a duke. The fact that he was only eighteen and had no intention of marrying for many more years seemed to have no effect on her. She’d been a second shadow for most of the evening, and people were starting to whisper.
Other mamas had been throwing their daughters at him, as well. It was like he was a starving dog, and everyone was trying to force-feed him a steak. If he’d stayed there, he would have continued to feel like a piece of meat, but at least he wouldn’t be staring at a guilty-looking Finley.
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.”