Legacy of the Clockwork Key (24 page)

He kissed her.

I couldn’t seem to look away, even though my heart nearly beat out of my chest. I felt my own tears gather. I watched Oliver kiss her as if he needed her kiss to survive. His mouth slid over hers, hungry and searching. He pulled her tight against his body and held her as if he’d never let her go again.

Will hadn’t kissed me like
that
. Our kiss was fit for Sunday by comparison.

I felt a squeeze on my hand. Will caught my eye. My breath hitched. He jerked his head toward the back hall. We made our exit, leaving Lucinda and Oliver to work out their own accord.

Will strode down the hall, then stopped close to me, looking as if he wanted to say something. Curse him, what was holding him back? I wanted to grab him and kiss him, let him know that he meant as much to me as Lucinda did to Oliver.

Only I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wanted to know he wanted me in that way.

My heart stopped. Will’s gaze met mine. I took a step
closer to him. He placed his hands on my shoulders, then slid them down my arms and gathered my hands in his.

Why couldn’t I just tell him?

Will, I love you.

Did I? Could I?

He took a deep breath. “We have to leave immediately. We have no more time to linger.”

My disappointment felt as if it could crush me. Leave it to him to be sensible.

“I know,” I mumbled. Unfortunately, sense had nothing to do with how I felt.

WILL AND I GATHERED BLANKETS AND STACKED THEM IN
the hall. We didn’t know if we’d see another bed for some time. Then we raided the cellar, though there wasn’t much to find there. Will gathered ammunition and a couple of pistols. Once we’d done all we could, I cautiously entered the kitchen, afraid to walk in on something revealing.

Oliver held Lucinda in his lap, her face bright red, puffy, and streaked with tears. He stroked her hair and murmured to her as she breathed shaking breaths with her head tucked on his shoulder. She looked weary and spent, as if she’d cried until she couldn’t cry any more.

“Lucinda?” I wet a cloth and handed it to her, so she could clean her face. Oliver gave me a short nod of approval and helped lift her up.

What could I say to her? I had the feeling she’d just released her tears the way one purges a poison.

She sniffed, then pressed the damp cloth to her eyes. “Please forgive me,” she choked out, her voice raw. “I didn’t mean to make a scene.”

“I understand,” I offered. “But the danger has increased. We must leave.”

“I hate him,” she whispered against Oliver’s shoulder. “I hate him and I wish he were dead.”

I winced.

“Be that as it may,” Oliver said, “we can’t stay here. Are you ready for an adventure?”

She nodded, sniffed, then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I can’t very well go adventuring in this.” She brushed her hand over her night rail and robe.

Oliver helped her to her feet, and she wandered off on shaky legs.

“Is she well?” I asked him.

He rubbed a hand over his face and replaced his spectacles. “I believe so. I learned long ago not to underestimate her.”
He placed a strong hand on my shoulder and nodded to Will. “Come, show me what you’ve done.”

Oliver helped us crack open the trunk. We stuffed it with the blankets, a frying pan, teakettle, ladle, small pot, and some tin cups.

We left the rest of the packing to Oliver, as he’d had experience wandering the woods and plains in America. We needed salt but no sugar, a knife but no spoons. I felt I was about to enter a world I’d never even glimpsed, having been too long trapped within the feminine realm of the kitchen. I trusted his experience, but I couldn’t figure how we’d get by on so little.

Just as Oliver was packing the last of the trunk, a distant roll of thunder rumbled through the air followed by the steady thump of boots.

Lucinda descended the stairs into the kitchen.

I believe my eyes nearly fell out of my head.

She had abandoned her skirts in favor of a pair of short fall-front breeches that buttoned at her knees. The lace frill of her drawers ruffled beneath them, completely exposing her silk stockings and her trim boots. She wore a gentleman’s shirt loose at the collar, though the fabric still rippled about her throat, and an antique chocolate tailcoat with two rows of
buttons. She’d wrapped a long sash of red cloth around her waist, tying it at her hip, and piled her hair in a loose set of ties that let her curls fly in a wanton manner about her face.

It was scandalous.

Oliver gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white.

Will flushed bright red to his hair and looked away, but Lucinda remained confident. My own ruined dress seemed the height of decorum by comparison.

“I’ve found crinolines to be a bit of a hindrance when dealing with Amusements.” She shrugged, and I fought the urge to giggle. “Oliver’s grandfather had a fine sense of style, don’t you think?”

I took her arm. Her eyes were alight, and nothing made me happier. I had a feeling Simon would have approved. Thunder rumbled through the house. “The storm is nearly here.” I smiled at the men, feeling a bit saucy. “Are you coming?”

Oliver rested his elbows on his knees. “I need to sit for a moment.”

I grabbed one handle of the trunk and Will took the other. We carried it to the top of the steps, then Will made sure no one was near the house before we hauled it across the
gardens and to the coach. My arms burned with the effort, but together we managed.

Once we had the trunk tucked against the far wall of the coach, Lucinda bounded up the footboard with deerlike grace. I recalled the first time we’d tried to enter the coach, falling on the floor in a tangle of skirts, and realized she might be on to something with the trousers.

Oliver joined us a minute later looking very unsettled. He eased onto the driver’s seat. “Hold on.” Oliver turned the crank. “We’re going to have to push her hard.”

The horses tossed their heads, and the coach squealed again in the way that almost sounded as if the horses had neighed. It surged forward out onto the drive.

Oliver drove the coach at a blistering pace. I watched the trees whip by.

“Whoever is after us won’t be able to catch us on horseback.” Oliver locked the speed and handed Will a gun. “If you see anything, shoot.”

Will nodded.

We were taking a risk driving during the day, but it was a long way to Pellingbrook and Edgar’s Amusement. The storm gathered overhead, thick clouds rolling along a cutting line in the sky.

Lucinda opened Simon’s book and turned to an illustration of a ship and a giant sea monster. It had the body of a whale with a great long neck and club-like head, complete with a jaw full of pointed teeth.

“Don’t tell me we have to face that thing,” I exclaimed. The Minotaur was enough.

“I’m afraid so. The ship is moored on a private lake deep in Edgar’s lands.” Lucinda’s eyes scanned the pages. “This Amusement was built when Oliver and I were very small, but it was the most amazing thing watching the monster rise out of the lake.”

Oliver snorted. “The locals still haven’t forgotten seeing MacTavish’s working model rise out of the lake up near the Foundry. They will be talking about that for years.”

“What is the use of creating a monster?” Will asked.

“At the time it was a contest to see which of the two Amusements could fight the longest without sinking,” Oliver said. “The ship was fully automatic, and so was the monster. We were all able to watch from the safety of the shore. The monster won.”

“Perfect,” I muttered. “Let me guess, we’re going to have to board the ship.”

Oliver turned another crank, steering the coach around a bend in the road. “I’m fairly certain at least one of the plates
will be on the ship, but if the other is on the monster, things might turn interesting.” Oliver pushed our speed faster as we reached a long stretch of straight and well-packed road.

I leaned back on the velvet bench, my arm brushing Lucinda’s. “I wish I could go back to a time before all this. I wish my biggest concern was conjugating German verbs and what to wear to tea with Mother.”

Lucinda placed her hand on my knee. “Then we shouldn’t have become friends, and I would still be in the shop in London under my veil. Look at us now.” She leaned in and touched her shoulder to mine.

“You look ridiculous,” I admitted. “But you have lovely shoes.”

Lucinda laughed.

Oliver stole a glance at her, and my heart warmed.

Lucinda would make a wonderful duchess, should she finally come to her senses.

I turned my attention to Will. My heart skipped as I watched him stare out the back with his intense focus. He was brave, steady, and clever, but it was more than that. When I looked at him, I felt alive.

Will glanced at me, his focus faltering just enough to catch me staring. My skin heated.

What would it take for him to feel the same way about me? Did he? I thought back on his confession, that he didn’t want to see someone he loved hurt. I wanted to believe he loved me, but we had nothing more between us than one stolen kiss and a world of danger.

After racing along for what seemed an eternity, Oliver must have decided he’d gone well beyond the endurance of any living horse anyone may have used to follow us. He eased up on our speed, and the coach settled into a comfortable rocking rhythm.

My thoughts turned to Lucinda’s father. He had offered to help, but then his words felt threatening. My suspicion of him grew with each passing moment.

I tried to remember the times he’d come into the shop. As part of S.O.M.A. he would have been friends with my parents. Yet, while he’d sought out a quiet word with my father from time to time, he never seemed any more personable than any other patron of the shop.

I didn’t know what to think.

I had felt so certain Rathford was responsible for all these deaths, but now I was beginning to doubt. For the first time I understood that another may have as deep a motivation to kill.

The hours stretched on in the confines of the coach and
the air felt heavy with words left unspoken. Eventually the tension felt thick as bread pudding. I wanted to jump up and down and scream just so someone would say something.

Lucinda stared out the window, and I extracted myself from the bench, perching on the edge of the trunk so I could speak to Oliver.

I toyed with the key, unsure of how to say what was on my mind. I decided to just have it out. “Do you believe Lord Strompton could be involved in the murders?” I whispered.

His eyes flickered to Lucinda and back, as if he were carefully considering how to answer. “This is what I know,” he began, his voice hushed as well. “Alastair is a man who craves control. I’ve found men with such a proclivity can be dangerous if they perceive they might lose what they value most.”

“What happened with you and Lucinda?” I asked. I knew it was none of my business, but I didn’t like guessing at what had happened, and I didn’t feel Lucinda would confide in me at the present.

Oliver let out a weary sigh. He responded louder. “I was young and foolish. Luli was my best friend. She was just coming out into society, and I was horribly jealous. I couldn’t imagine myself marrying anyone else, so I went to her father and asked for her hand.”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” I asked. I stole a glance at Lucinda. She looked away with a scowl.

Oliver grimaced. “Let’s just say I was a bit rash. At some point I probably should have told Lucinda I loved her or showed some sign that I wished to court her. I caught Simon giving her a toy mouse as a gift, and I lost my temper.”

He sighed, and I allowed him to continue, though he hushed his voice again. “I knew she was falling for Simon, so I thought I would win her with the one advantage I had. My name. Alas, her father, wishing to unite our families since our birth to increase his political power in the Order, brought her into his study, informed her the wedding would be that spring, that she’d wear his mother’s dress, and he expected a male heir before the New Year.”

How horrible. No wonder she’d tried to escape.

Oliver lifted one shoulder in a resigned shrug. “Lucinda blamed me, said I took her heart for granted. She claimed I was just like her father, an arrogant tyrant. Then she told me she hated me and married my best friend. That’s pretty much that.”

I felt for Oliver. Such a rejection must have cut deep, but in all honesty, he had been a bit of an ass. Still, his story
revealed Lord Strompton was indeed a ruthless man, even with his own daughter’s heart.

“What about Lord Rathford? Do you believe he could commit murder?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Oliver said. “But I do know your grandfather once trusted him deeply, at least until he discovered the purpose of the machine. Henry did everything in his power to convince Rathford to relinquish the heart of the machine.”

Oliver slowly turned the crank, giving the coach more power. “During that time, Rathford was on a verbal warpath, threatening everyone. But no one actually died until the thing was safely locked. Soon after, Thomas died, followed by Charles’s hunting accident.” He paused, lowering his gaze to the lever in his hand. “Then Henry supposedly went into the river, and after that, Simon was shot like a dog in the street.”

Oliver spun one of the controls and the horses picked up speed. “When your father revealed he had found Henry’s key, and my father revealed that he knew the whereabouts of the coach, they both ended up dead.”

Oliver didn’t say any more. He pulled the coach off the main road and drove it across an enormous open field.

Thunder rumbled as the coach rolled under a thick canopy of trees.

The coach lumbered to a stop, perched on the edge of a high sheer cliff overlooking a deep indigo lake, the water lingering undisturbed beneath a threatening sky.

OLIVER AIDED LUCINDA AS WILL AND I STEPPED OUT OF
the coach. A cold wind stung my cheeks. I rubbed my arms, imagining how much colder it would be out on the lake. I wandered toward the edge of the cliff to get a better look. It was a straight drop to the water, as if God had taken a great knife and sliced off half the hill the way one would a cake. Shaken by the dizzying drop, I backed away into the thick grove of oaks sheltering the coach.