Charlotte balked. “I don’t think—”
“Come, come,” Linnet coaxed. “Read it. I won’t look over your shoulder. I promise.”
“You’re hoping I won’t be able to hold my tongue,” Charlotte said, though she’d already half drawn the envelope from her pocket.
“Your tongue has nothing to do with it.” Linnet laughed. “I’ll know exactly what’s in that letter just from watching your face when you’re reading.”
“Then why would I read it in front of you!” Charlotte looked to Grave for support, but he was standing in the corner of the carriage, gazing at the gears that turned the massive wheel.
“Because you can’t stand to wait any longer,” Linnet replied.
“Augh!” Charlotte wanted to prove Linnet and her wicked grin wrong, but she only lasted another minute before stomping her foot in frustration and pulling out the letter.
Linnet smirked, but didn’t offer further comment. When she opened the envelope, Charlotte made a show of turning her back on Linnet, but somehow she knew that wouldn’t make a difference.
Charlotte’s fingers trembled as she opened the folded page.
Charlotte,
I hope you haven’t torn this page up and tossed it into the fire before reading it, though I’m all too aware I’ve given you more than enough cause to do so. On the chance that you have spared me a moment, I’ve put down what words I can to plead my cause to you—however insufficient they might be.
I’ve ended my engagement.
Whether that has any bearing on your judgment of me or not, it was the only honorable course. When I became betrothed to Eleanor, I thought I loved her. I learned much later how wrong I was. I didn’t know what love truly was. Not until you.
And with you I’ve been a coward, hiding behind falsities and all the while convincing myself it was necessary for the mission. But I’m forced to admit now that I used that excuse as a way to escape my past because each day with you filled me with regrets about the choices I’d made.
I wanted to tell you this. To see you. But given all that’s happened, forcing you to face me seemed yet another selfish choice when I’ve already taken too many false steps at your cost.
You know who I was and who I am. I leave it to you to decide whether I merit forgiveness or dismissal. Whatever your judgment, know that I am yours always.
Jack Winter
Charlotte read the letter again. Then a third time. Very carefully she folded the page and slipped it back into her pocket.
Jack’s words should have made her jubilant, or at least provided some comfort. But they only made Charlotte feel a cold hollowness beneath her ribs. Jack claimed he wanted to speak to her, to make these professions in person, but had stayed away for her sake.
Those words struck Charlotte as false, cowardly even. She couldn’t see the letter as anything other than Jack keeping his distance, hiding behind words until he was assured a safe welcome back into her heart. Charlotte didn’t know if she believed the letter, if she believed that Jack actually had ended his engagement to Lady Eleanor Stuart. All she could rely on for proof was this letter, and in the balance of time, hadn’t Jack offered her more false words than true? Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to trust him that much yet . . . She wondered if she’d ever be able to completely trust in him again.
She turned around to face Linnet. “It’s not enough.” Then Charlotte frowned. “Is that horrible of me to say?”
“Of course not, kitten. From what I’ve seen, and I’ve seen quite a lot, men are poor soldiers in love’s war. And it is a war—one that never ends.” Linnet’s gaze was kind. “If my brother isn’t a complete dolt, he’ll figure that out and do what he must to become your champion.” Linnet’s smile became sly. “Or someone else will.”
27.
LORD OTT STOOD at the edge of the Great Wheel’s platform, gazing at his pocket watch.
“We are not late.” Linnet scowled, putting her hands on her hips and squaring herself to face him. “Not by one minute.”
“Did I say anything?” Ott waggled his bushy eyebrows at her. He turned to Charlotte and gave a slight bow. “Miss Marshall.”
Behind Ott was a stumpy wagon to which was harnessed an even stumpier mule. Seated on the driver’s bench was Coe Winter. He’d forsaken his military garb for the drab gray clothing of the Hive. He held the reins, but freed one hand to give them a wave. Charlotte’s chest burned. A part of her wished it were the younger and not the elder son of the House of Winter here to see them off. But in some ways, it was a relief to see Coe waiting for her.
Without prompting, Grave trundled Charlotte’s luggage over to the wagon and climbed in to sit beside the trunks.
Ott noticed Charlotte’s wary assessment of their transport.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” he said. “The sternwheeler’s much better looking than the wagon. You’ll see when we reach the river.”
“I’m not worried,” Charlotte replied. “Just wondering about the mule. I haven’t seen any mules or horses in the city until now.”
“That’s because they always panic up on the platforms,” Linnet said. “After enough horses had bolted and then fallen to their deaths, the Empire banned work animals from the Floating City.”
“Also because they left their shite everywhere.” Ott laughed. “And if it doesn’t glitter, the Empire doesn’t want it in their diamond of a metropolis.”
Linnet snorted a laugh and grabbed Charlotte’s hand. They climbed into the wagon bed beside Grave. Coe tossed them all heavy traveling cloaks.
“Society folk don’t go where we’re going.”
He tipped his wool cap at Charlotte. For the first time since reading Jack’s letter, she smiled and the fist that had been clamped around her heart eased its grip.
The wagon creaked under Lord Ott’s weight when he hauled himself onto the bench beside Coe.
Coe shook the reins, and the wagon bumped along the path toward the Iron Forest. Passengers disembarking from the wheel or on their way to the Tinkers’ Faire followed the wagon’s departure with curious gazes.
“Aren’t you afraid we’ll be followed?” Charlotte asked Ott.
“Of course we’re being followed,” Ott told her. “I’m always being followed. But I have people who follow the people following me. And they make certain no one sees or reports anything I wouldn’t want to be seen or reported.”
Charlotte didn’t know whether to smile or shudder.
“You’ve picked a good time to leave the city,” Lord Ott continued. “Things have taken a turn toward the ugly.”
“What do you mean?” Charlotte asked.
“Not more than an hour ago, the Enforcers entered the Hive and locked it down,” Ott told her. “No one has been allowed in or out since.”
Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the wagon seat. “Why?”
“My sources have yet to tell me,” he replied. “But I’ll find out soon enough.”
Panic made Charlotte’s blood icy. She opened her mouth to question Lord Ott further, but Coe spoke first.
“Hive workers are sometimes tempted to chase French gold and Spanish silver by smuggling their crafts out of the city. The Empire frowns upon such habits, of course. These raids happen infrequently, but they do happen. Don’t worry too much over it, Miss Marshall.”
Coe’s tone was calm, but he fixed Charlotte with a hard look. For whatever reason, he didn’t want her to reveal anything more to Lord Ott about their visit to the Hive. Charlotte quickly decided his inclination was prudent. Though Ott was their ally, there was no way of knowing how he’d take the news about Grave’s unprecedented origins. Coe was right to make sure that the circle of those who knew the truth was as tight and trustworthy as possible. Keeping silent as the wagon lurched on, Charlotte fell to brooding over what might have incited the Imperial raid on the
Hive and hoped its timing would prove coincidental to their meeting with Bromley and not its cause.
The smooth stones that paved the pathway near the Great Wheel disappeared when they entered the shadowed Iron Forest, and soon they were traveling on nothing but wheel ruts worn into the soil.
All around them scrap iron had been worked into trees of varying shapes and sizes. Some of the trees featured leaves of beaten steel and copper—it was clear that any crafted of silver and gold had long ago been stolen. Though a forest of metal, it wasn’t entirely devoid of wildlife. Some intrepid squirrels had built nests in the higher branches. Birds could be seen flitting between the metal trunks. Even so, the forest felt cold and empty. Sunlight struggled to pierce the dense tangle of heavy, unyielding iron.
Shivering, Charlotte pulled her cloak tight around her and instinctively snuggled up against Linnet. Realizing what she’d done, Charlotte would have been embarrassed had Linnet not cozied right back into her.
“It’s why we use the old mules to carry cargo by this path. They’re placid and reliable, and most are half blind,” Linnet said in a hushed voice. “Horses spook so often you can barely get one to walk in a straight line.”
“Isn’t Lord Ott worried that someone might give us trouble in here?” Charlotte asked, remembering the sudden attack she and Coe had faced.
“No one bothers Ott.” Linnet smiled wryly. “Half of those scoundrels are on his payroll.”
“But those brigands attacked Coe and me,” Charlotte protested.
“Of course they did,” Linnet replied. “I said that they wouldn’t bother Ott. But they’d always bother the likes of a rich blueblood silly enough to tramp through their forest. They’d be poor excuses for thieves if they didn’t. Wouldn’t they, Ott?”
“That sounds like Athene’s truth to me,” Ott chortled.
Charlotte had nothing to say to that.
The wagon rocked and creaked its way through the forest, and Charlotte was relieved when they finally came to a halt on the riverbank, though she guessed the journey hadn’t been half as long as it felt.
Coe jumped down from the driver’s bench and came around to help Charlotte out of the wagon bed. She tried to exit delicately, despite her dress. But when Coe tried to assist Linnet, she waved him off, lifted up her skirts, and simply hopped out of the wagon, landing lightly on her booted feet and making Charlotte wish she’d done the same.
“That’s where you’re headed.” Coe pointed to the river. “She’s called the Aphrodite.”
A sternwheeler was moored in the middle of the Hudson. Ott had told the truth—the paddleboat was much better looking than the wagon. The boat was long and slim. The wood that made up its body had been varnished to a glossy sheen, and the pairs of wheels fitted to its stern had been covered in gold leaf.
While Charlotte and Linnet approached the river’s edge, Coe and Grave unloaded the wagon. A small boat had been dragged up onto the bank. As Ott descended from the wagon, the man sitting on the bank beside the small craft jumped up and took off his cap.
“All ready, sir,” the man piped, ducking his head when Lord Ott joined them on the riverbank. “Captain’s holding the ship till we board.”
“Very good.” Ott nodded to the man and then turned to Charlotte and Linnet. “I’ll bid my farewells to you now. Margery especially wanted me to tell you how much she’s enjoyed your company and hopes to meet you again.”
“Margery?” Charlotte tilted her head at Lord Ott.
“The Lady Ott.” He smiled.
“Oh!” Charlotte returned his friendly smile. “Please send her my best regards as well.”
“And you’ll stay out of trouble.” Ott wagged a finger at Linnet.
“If I can,” Linnet answered blithely.
“I suppose that’s the best I can hope for,” he grumbled.
“It is,” Linnet said, but she rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before she climbed into the boat.
“Safe journey, Miss Marshall,” Lord Ott said to Charlotte. “Should I have any news of your brother, I’ll try to get word to you.”
“Thank you, Lord Ott.”
“Call me Roger, dear child.” Ott grinned. “Except in proper company of course.”
“Of course.” Charlotte dipped into a curtsey.
Lord Ott patted her cheek. “Good girl.”
Charlotte was about to follow Linnet into the boat when she heard Coe say, “Are you that eager to get away from us?”
Charlotte was eager to get away. Not from her companions, but from this place. She doubted she could ever be at ease in the city. For the sake of courtesy, she turned around.
“Eager to return home,” she told Coe.
“What would you say if I told you I shall miss you, Charlotte Marshall?” Coe’s hand slipped over hers. “And that I hope it won’t be long before I see you again?”
He smiled, and for a moment, Charlotte’s heart pattered with anticipation. The brief thrill left her uneasy. Did she welcome Coe’s attention because she smarted so from Jack’s betrayal? Or was the elder brother’s allure something real, possibly more real than anything she’d shared with Jack?
Charlotte gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she pulled her fingers free of his grasp. “I would say you are kind, Commodore Winter.”
Coe’s smile became wan. “Perhaps someday you’ll forgive me for revealing the truth about my brother. And you’ll desire more than kindness when we meet again.”
With a shake of her head, Charlotte answered, “Don’t burden yourself with guilt over showing me ugly things. Though my pride might be injured, you did me honor by believing me strong enough to face the truth and go on.”
“And are you,” Coe asked softly, “going on?”
Charlotte’s throat went dry. She wanted to nod or to say yes, but she wasn’t certain enough of her conviction to risk raising Coe’s hopes. Unlike Jack, she would not play falsely with another’s affection.
Coe leaned down, his voice low. “Forgive me for asking too soon, but I pray that when you are ready, you remember that I asked.”
She did manage to nod in reply to that, and the nearness of Coe’s face to hers made her breath catch.
Coe spoke again, quieting his voice even more. “I’ll find out what provoked the raid. If Bromley is involved, I’ll send word.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte said.
Conscious of the way heat was creeping up her neck and making her head swim, she did not accept Coe’s assistance in boarding the small boat for fear that her body’s traitorous response would be noted by onlookers. Lifting her skirts as Linnet had, Charlotte stepped lightly from the bank onto the boat’s planked bottom.
Coe lifted his hand in farewell as they rowed away. Charlotte wondered when she would next meet Commodore Winter or his younger brother. Perhaps it would be for the best if she never encountered either of the sons of Winter again. It would certainly make things simpler.
“I wonder if I have ever traveled by boat,” Grave said aloud, but he seemed to be speaking to himself.
Charlotte asked, “Are you trying to remember?” She glanced warily at the rowing sailor. He worked for Ott, but that didn’t mean she felt comfortable with him knowing too much about Grave.
Fortunately, Grave just nodded and returned to his silent musing.
When they reached the Aphrodite and boarded, the captain met them and offered a cursory welcome before returning to his post. The sailor who’d rowed them to the paddleboat told Grave to leave Charlotte’s luggage on the main deck.
When Linnet caught Charlotte’s puzzled glance, she said, “If we were taking you all the way to the Mohawk, I’d put you in a cabin for the night. But we’ll be handing you off to your friends at the midway point.”
“My friends?” Anticipation bubbled up in Charlotte’s veins.
Linnet nodde
d. “Ott said you have some kind of submersible?”
“The Pisces!” Charlotte clapped with delight. Everything in the city had been so strange, felt so wrong. Just the thought of returning to a familiar ship crewed by her longtime companions made her giddy.
“Oh!” Charlotte exclaimed. “I hope they bring Pocky!”
“Who?” Linnet asked.
Slightly abashed, Charlotte said, “Um. She’s a gun. My favorite gun.”
“Ah.” Linnet smiled knowingly. Dipping her hand into her bodice, she withdrew a stiletto not unlike the one Ash had given Charlotte. “This is Brutus.”
“Brutus?” Charlotte frowned at such a brawny name for a slender blade.
“You know.” Linnet shrugged. “Good for stabbing people in the back.”
28.
THOUGH THE CAPTAIN’S butler offered to prepare a lunch for them, Charlotte was much too restless to sit belowdecks and eat. She and Linnet took apples from the ship’s store and munched on the crisp, tart fruit while leaning over the railing at the fore of the paddleboat. Grave had demurred when Charlotte invited him to join them. He wanted to stay near the stern and watch the turning of the boat’s four wheels.
There was no denying that the boy, with his cold, colorless skin and strange manner, was an odd duck. But Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to condemn him as her friends had. To Charlotte, Grave was neither monster nor machine. Though he was a puzzle, she believed him still a person. And as a refugee in the Catacombs, Grave was under Charlotte’s protection. An orphan for now. Like the rest of us.
It was mid-afternoon when a bell began to clang. The Aphrodite’s paddles slowed as its steam engines were shut down. Sailors hustled about the deck, dropping anchors at the fore and stern of the boat.
“There!” Linnet shouted, pointing ahead at what had been an empty patch of river.
The surface of the water roiled, then parted, as a gleaming, monstrous shape rose from the Hudson’s depths.