Seleste deLaney - [Badlands 02] (3 page)

Though Henrietta very much wanted a family, the thought that she would
need
one had never occurred to her. Perhaps Lucinda was still her friend after all. No one else had bothered to warn her. Henri swallowed hard, nodding. She wasn’t ready for this. And how was she supposed to find someone “respectable” who would allow her to continue her experiments? Or start her own medical practice? It wasn’t as if feminist men of substance were easy to come by.

She had a feeling Carson would have allowed and even encouraged such things, but Lucinda was right. Hero or not, he’d never do. Which meant it was best if she paid her donation and never saw him again.

* * *

Carson watched as Henrietta walked out the door.

No.

She’d paid to spend the rest of the gala with him; she couldn’t just leave. Hell, after the time they’d spent together, she couldn’t just leave. To hell and back with the dancing.

After clambering off the stage in the most dignified fashion he could manage, he wound his way to the exit. Outside, he whipped off his mask. The wind tore his hair from its tie as he twisted his head back and forth. There! Without a care for proper behavior, he ran to the steam carriage she was climbing inside. “Henrietta!”

She turned to look at him, her mask still firmly in place, but the next thing he knew, she was safely ensconced inside the black carriage. The driver shut the door and climbed into the front. A billow of steam told him the man was about to pull away, when Carson’s hand finally clamped down on the curtained window. “Wait.”

Henrietta rapped on the pane in front of her, and the steam engine cycled down to a low burbling. “Is there a problem? I thought you’d appreciate that I helped you avoid more time with one of the debutantes, or worse, one of their mothers.”

“I’d appreciate it more if you came back inside for the dancing you just paid for. We could make plans and—”

“Perhaps another time. I’m afraid I have some pressing engagements to tend to for the foreseeable future.” She reached through the window, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw for a second before she snatched her hand away. “I had a lovely time with you tonight, but I’m sure you have duties that don’t involve crazed lady scientists with their rogue clockworks and society plans. Good night, Marshal Alexander.”

He tried to wrap his head around her sudden shift to formality. What happened to the woman who faked a swoon just to help him escape the ballroom? The one who teased him about being a wolf in sheep’s clothing? “The wolf is gone, Henrietta. It’s just me now.” She didn’t say anything, hiding in the shadows of the carriage. “How will I find you?”

When her voice came, it was tight—false like her smile had been most of the night. “You won’t.”

This time when she tapped on the window, the carriage pulled away. He called her name, feeling like the prince after the ball, but without the comfort of Cinderella’s slipper to confirm she’d been real. His fist clenched empty at his side and he stalked back into the hotel. He didn’t know what had happened in the few minutes between coming downstairs and Henrietta’s departure, but he didn’t want to let it go. In the ballroom once more, he made his way to the ledger, but the winning bidders circled it waiting their turns.

Mr. Cartwright shrugged on his frock coat with the help of a young brunette woman in a hummingbird mask. He frowned as Carson failed once more to get the attention of the clerk manning the ledger. “Something wrong, lad?”

“I was just trying to find out the name of the woman who placed the winning bid for me. She left before I could speak to her.”

The girl answered before Cartwright could. “She’ll pay what she bid. Just...leave Henrietta alone. Things are hard enough for her right now.”

“Lucinda, hush. Henrietta you say? Marshal, as rude as my daughter was, I have to agree with her. Between the loss of her father and her own peculiar habits, Henrietta Mason is a difficult woman to pin down.”

“Mason? Did you say Mason?” Carson’s mouth went dry. The daughter. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Studying in Europe was the last he’d heard. Damn it to the seven hells, if he’d had Mason’s daughter in his arms all night...

“Yes. Senator William Mason passed on about six months ago. I assume you heard about it.”

He had, and he’d been trying to track down any of the man’s connections ever since. Tonight he’d allowed the closest one to slip right through his fingers. Obviously the file he’d collected on Henrietta Mason had been filled with something other than the facts. A problem that had to be remedied immediately, especially if there was any chance other people had more accurate reports. Carson needed to find her—and not just because she’d made him feel alive for the first time in years—because if he didn’t protect her, she might not be alive for long.

Chapter Three

Henri reached up and tucked a curl back into her coiffure before allowing her gaze to sweep over the bare space. Her father’s lab used to be a place filled with so much excitement and joy. Now, with the equipment and many of the clockworks auctioned off—and the rest in crates on the
Dark
Hawk
—it was vacant, hollow. The ghost of her laughter a dim thing here amid the dust and emptiness.

She wished for the millionth time since he’d died atop the Rocky Mountains that she could erase her father’s memory as easily as she’d dispersed his things. She hoped once all ties were gone, she’d finally be at peace. No more reminders of what he’d brought on the Badlands in his quest for gold, or how she’d never been good enough in his eyes. Not a son and not nearly enough of a lady.

The gala last night only served as another reminder of how right he’d been. She fit in nowhere—not yet, but she would. She’d fight the devil himself to do her mother proud.

But no matter how hard she tried, her father haunted her both asleep and awake. She clutched her side. The bullet wound had healed, but if she thought too hard about that night on the mountain, a phantom ache spread through her muscles. Bad enough seeing his face as he died at Ever’s hand. Or even the disdain when he shot Henri. The worst though, was the absence of humanity in his eyes when he murdered Ezekial.

And that was the part she could never forgive herself for. As much as Henri might not have approved of his lifestyle, she’d had a grudging respect for Ezekial. Without her assistance in her father’s schemes, he wouldn’t have been on that mountain. If not for her, Zeke would still be alive.

Pained thoughts of him brought back the more recent memory of leaving Carson on the street last night. He never should have taken off his mask. Now his image was burned on her mind—a real man, not some memory she could pretend didn’t exist. His crooked smile and the way he hadn’t given her any quarter made every place he’d touched her tingle. He was a man—so very like Ezekial—who would stand toe-to-toe with her and never budge. Strange how in all the time on the
Dark
Hawk
she’d never seen Zeke as anything other than a nuisance. Then again, the resemblance between the two men was superficial at best, brought on by sadness and loss.

Carson was far more in tune with her. During their secret conversation, he’d managed to lure her into a sense of security she hadn’t felt since her father’s betrayal. Something about his bumbling through the gala touched the part of her that had never quite fit society’s mold. She and Carson were nothing alike, but somehow—absurdly—in that moment they were the same.

Which made it all the more painful to think about the way she’d left things. No explanation. No apology. She needed someone more suitable, and he deserved someone less cowardly.

Still, she thought of the warmth of the marshal’s fingers on her skin and even that tiny recollection sent a shiver of longing through her as she wished for something good and positive in her life again. Like everything though, it would come at a cost. She had few friends and no family left to lean on. But two things she did have were money and status, and by God she would cling to that until her dying breath.

Grinding her teeth together and trying to forget the big, blond man, Henrietta let out a slow breath and checked to ensure the last of the research files were secure in her bag. As soon as she had time, she’d sort through them and destroy all trails leading back to the gold in the Badlands. It wasn’t much, but keeping the knowledge from anyone else was the very least she could do to destroy her father’s legacy of greed. Maybe then she’d start being able to sleep at night again. Maybe then she could focus on building her own life.

She rubbed a weary hand across her eyes as she made her way through the empty lab. Halfway across the room, she froze as the door leading outside opened and a shadow filled the entry. Carson? She’d worked through the night to ensure she’d be gone before he had any opportunity to find her. She squinted. No, this man was far too small to be the marshal.

“Dr. Mason?”

So much for keeping her father’s plans and the truth of his death a secret. Someone knew—there was no other reason a stranger would be here after all this time.

She shifted her eyes from one corner of the space to another. The only other door was at the back, and it led to an alley. While she might make it to the space between the buildings, she’d never outrun him all the way to the street. Henri squared her shoulders and stepped forward, striding purposefully to the door. If she couldn’t run away, she’d get as close to the street as possible instead. Then at least if she screamed, someone might hear.

“I’m Henrietta Mason. If you’re looking for my father, I’m sorry to tell you he passed away a few months ago.”

Five paces away from the door, his voice stopped her cold again. “I’m not here for your father, Dr. Mason. I came to speak to you.”

Henri swallowed hard and raised her voice in hopes the driver waiting outside would hear. “Oh. Well, certainly, Mr....”

The man stepped inside and gave a genteel bow. “Tobias St. Clair. I was your father’s attorney.”

Her driver hadn’t shown yet, and the man still stood between her and the door. At least she could see him properly now. Around her own age, black hair slicked off his face to reveal dark, penetrating brown eyes that seemed to see straight through to her tortured soul and not in a kind way. Unlike Carson’s stare, this man seemed intense, almost devious. Henri fought the urge to look away, instead adopting the haughty air pounded into her by the society dinners of her youth.

“I don’t know who you are, Mr. St. Clair, but I met my father’s lawyer when his will was read. Anson Merriweather is, at the very least, old enough to be your father. If you’ll pardon me, I have a prior engagement I must get to.”

His hand fell on her arm as she tried to brush past him. Long fingers, nails buffed to a shine—definitely not someone who worked with his hands. “I’m his other lawyer. The one who handled his business dealings.” He let his hand drop to his side. “Before he died, your father spoke to me about creating a foundation with some of his money, and I wondered if you might be interested in carrying through with his plans. Otherwise, we need to make arrangements for the funds he left at my disposal.”

More money, but never enough to secure her position in the world on its own. Plus, her father had never been a philanthropist. Unconvinced, Henri sidestepped toward the door. Wary as she was though, she couldn’t suppress her curiosity. “What sort of foundation?”

“While he was proud to have passed his knowledge on to you, your father knew that for the United States to become a true power in the world, we had to begin training the next generation of scientists now.” Tobias pulled a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. “To that end, we had taken the first steps toward a foundation to provide promising but underprivileged children the means to attend schools able to give them the best scientific education possible.”

Henrietta watched Tobias as he spoke, and mentally scoffed at the bogus compliment. She knew her father too well to believe he’d said any such thing. The man seemed genuine enough about the charity, only...helping the less fortunate had never been something that drove her father. Not as a senator, and certainly not as a scientist. Such things had been more her mother’s forte. At least until she succumbed to the cancer that destroyed her body.

There was a possible connection, and it made a tiny amount of sense. The proposed foundation paired Father’s love of science and Mother’s work with underprivileged youth. Her father might have been planning this as a tribute to his late wife.

And with the gold he’d planned to steal from the Badlands, he would have had more than the means to do it.

Though it took a lot of effort, Henrietta managed to push the last thought away. With everything sold off, there was money enough now, especially since it would do her little good on its own. Perhaps, she could use it to honor her mother’s memory and begin to unsully that of her father. Besides, helping people in this manner would be another step toward her own healing. Still guarded but curious now, she reached for the papers. “I’d love to look at the plan you’ve drawn up, Mr. St. Clair.”

Tobias handed them over with a nod. “I should warn you, unlike your father’s will, this sort of thing involves a great deal of—” he winked, “—lawyer speak. It might be in both our best interests if we took the time to go over the documents together.”

Silence stretched between them. He’d winked at her. Henri had been away from city life far too long. Was this sort of behavior normal now? Yes, Carson had blundered through a few things last night, and certainly on the
Dark
Hawk
the behavior wouldn’t have seemed out of place, but she didn’t remember gentlemen acting in such a manner when she’d lived in Philadelphia before.

Worse, she wasn’t entirely sure she disliked it, though she might have preferred it from a man who didn’t make her as nervous as this one did. Preposterous. She’d decided which reality she wanted to live in, and it wasn’t one filled with louts and ruffians. The very next time they stopped in Philadelphia, she would find someone—a former army medic perhaps—to take her position on the
Dark
Hawk
. Then she could focus on rebuilding her life in this world. One foot in each was stretching her in two.

Stepping into the drizzle plaguing the grimy street at last, Henrietta waved to her driver, who had busied himself talking to an odd-looking man in a bowler hat. The stranger’s face seemed somewhat misshapen. Clearly, the lawyer’s arrival had her looking at everything through a veil of suspicion, which made her more than a little uncomfortable.

“That might indeed be wise, Mr. St. Clair. However, as I mentioned, I have other things to deal with at the moment, including having some items shipped out of the Union. Since I trust no one else with them, I’ll be traveling as well. So if you’ll please excuse me...”

“Of course.” Tobias swept a hand toward the waiting carriage, steam issuing from the engine as it idled. “However, since your time in Philadelphia is limited, it might be prudent if I accompanied you for the moment and explained a bit more about what your father had planned.”

One look at his face and Henrietta knew he wasn’t jesting.
Fourth
circle
of
hell
,
the
man
certainly
takes
what
he
wants
. He held the carriage door, waiting for her, muscling his way politely into her life. Her skin tingled painfully with some combination of fear and anticipation. It was a sensation she didn’t think she should ignore.

“Dr. Mason?” He reached a hand toward her.

Henrietta stared at his fingers for what felt like an eternity. Then the rain began to fall in earnest. She took it as a sign and grasped his hand, allowing him to assist her into the carriage.

Water dripped from his hair onto the shoulders of his gray tweed coat. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to leave me on the street in the rain.”

Lips twitching, Henri nodded. “For a moment, I was.”

“Yet here we are.”

Fingers smoothing her skirts, Henrietta raised her eyes to meet his gaze. If he could be a boor, her brazenness shouldn’t surprise him. “Only because it would be the height of rudeness to leave a business associate in the rain and filth. You have until we reach the hangar to convince me to examine this foundation further. Then we part ways until I return to Philadelphia—or permanently.”

The man might be genuine, but if he’d been involved in her father’s plans for the Badlands, she wanted nothing to do with him. Then again, she knew a certain Badlands border guard who might like to have his head on a spike.

“And here I thought my sparkling personality had already won you over.”

Henrietta opened her mouth to retort.

“Dr. Mason? Are we all set here then?” The driver stood outside the door, his eyes flicking from her face to Tobias’s.

Her society smile formed without a thought. “Yes, Robert.” She turned back to Tobias. “I have everything I need.”

Robert grunted something before climbing into the driver’s seat and stoking the bellows. The carriage lurched forward then settled into a quiet roll through the crowded street.

“As for you, Mr. St. Clair—” Henrietta relaxed against the cushions, knowing her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “—I suggest you start talking.”

* * *

The stark white canopies of the dirigible hangar had completely eclipsed the view outside the tiny window. Tobias squeezed his hands into fists. He could only hope he’d said enough. “So, if the plan your father and I drew up meets your approval, we need to discuss how you want to implement things. How much of a hand you want in the running of the foundation. Since you’ve implied there’s more than adequate funding, there’s even the possibility of opening your own school, which might be more cost-effective in the long term than merely offering scholarships to other schools. In addition—”

The carriage shuddered to a stop, and the door popped open. Robert, the annoyingly efficient driver, glared at him before turning to Mason’s daughter. “Safely delivered as promised, Dr. Mason.”

“Thank you, Robert. If you’d be so kind as to assist with loading the last of the cargo, I would greatly appreciate it.” She gripped his fingers and alit from the carriage, her boot heels clicking lightly on the burnished wood deck.

Tobias scrubbed at his face. Unlike most people in the city, he knew damned well where Henrietta Mason had been for the last several years as well as where she was headed now. Senator Mason kept secrets from a lot of people, but Tobias wasn’t one of them. He’d hoped his ruse would convince Henrietta to invite him to accompany her to the Badlands, but clearly that wouldn’t happen.

With a sigh, he followed her through the door. “Well, Dr. Mason, it’s been a pleasure. When you’ve determined how you wish to proceed, you can contact me at my office.” He tucked a card into the file in her hands.