The carriage the girl was working on looked familiar. It took me a moment to identify it as a black Model V, one of its windows knocked out. The same sort of carriage Nora’s aunt drove. The day Nora’d been kidnapped I glimpsed it through the window and pretended I hadn’t, invading my mother’s parlor just to see her.
I’d done all of this for her.
I had to remember that.
I wasn’t very gregarious. I had no one I’d count as a best friend. I had my circle, but I could take or leave them. My mother had always been determined to make me popular, and so she’d made sure I attended the right parties, held a few of my own. Nora might’ve come to the Christmas party my mother wanted me to hold in December. To see her, I’d been willing to own the planning, to act enthusiastic about it.
It was all for her. Everything I did. Every plan I made. Every word I didn’t say.
That night, around 3:00 A.M., I pulled a wooden box down from my closet and opened it. My mask and a bottle of bourbon at my knee, I fingered the mementos I’d been collecting of Nora since first meeting her at Vespertine’s twelfth birthday party. The way Vespertine told it, her mother insisted she invite every one of her classmates from St. Cyprian’s, even the scholarship and new money girls, in order to punish her for some infraction. That was why Nora and the plain, penniless Miss Roe were there.
It was the first time I’d seen Nora, ever. Her eyes had taken mere seconds to capture mine, to cause something mysterious and then unknown in my body to thrum. Our introduction was brief, but it had been enough to open a whole new world to me, a world filled with yearning.
The other girls were content to gather around the towering white cake like a bunch of clucking hens in training, terrified of getting anything on their clothes. Nora would have none of it, though. And none of me. She ignored everyone except for her anxious-eyed friend. I couldn’t get a moment with her, and I was half mad by the time her aunt, Mrs. Ortega, saw her out.
As I’d watched her go, one of the white ribbons fell from her curly hair. I ran forward to catch it, thanking the angels, but before I could return it to her my own mother came to collect me.
My father was in the carriage. He asked me if I’d met anyone interesting. I told him I had. When he heard Nora Dearly’s name, he looked at me so hatefully it almost hurt. I hadn’t understood it then. I barely understood it now. It was her father he despised.
It was her I loved.
Her hair ribbon, a button from her boot, fringe from her parasol—these were the scraps I had of her. Each one collected at a party or gathering where I’d done my best to impress her, only to get the brush-off. How long I’d stared at them when she was kidnapped, and then when she’d been gone.
Gone because Griswold, a dead man—an object, like that pearly button was an object—had taken her from me.
She had to see. Had to see the lengths to which I was prepared to go to demonstrate my devotion.
Running the ribbon under my nose, I shut my eyes and pretended it was her hair. I tried to enter again into the violent, operatic fantasies I’d been weaving for months.
The fantasies that were going to come true.
In a few days it would all be over. I just had to keep my cool.
At Allister Genetics the next day, as I walked the mahogany paneled halls of my father’s office, all I could think of was ravens. Coco had brought a single note that morning. It said, Saturday. 11:00 P.M. Sewer under Delreggio’s. Leave the money there ahead of time.
There was a date.
My phone beeped. Figuring it might be Vespertine, I reached for it. I had yet to tell her anything, though I knew she was waiting for me to do so. As I recalled the previous evening, as I briefly entertained the idea of sharing anything about it, I suddenly wished I’d eaten breakfast in order to have something to actually be sick with.
I needed her to ground me.
Hello. This is Nora Dearly. I was wondering if you might have time to talk?
I stopped in my tracks. I’d never expected her to contact me. A bit thrown off, unsure how to respond, I bought time with a simple reply.
Perhaps. Am I going to be punched this time?
There. Bitter, but open. Willing to forgive, but not forget the past. While I waited, I labeled her number with her name.
No. Do you like Lapin Innocent?
A coquettish invitation-not-an-invitation? Tea? It was the last thing I expected, but knew I’d be stupid to pass up the chance. Playing along, I asked her to meet me there in a few hours.
Fine. You did the asking, you bring the eyes.
Directly after Nora confirmed our meeting, Vespertine actually did join the texting party.
Are we meeting today? You were going to tell me about your plans.
Suddenly nothing in the world seemed more stultifying than gushing to Vesper about my grand designs. I told her no and continued on my way.
Are you sure? I’m literally bouncing around. I want to hear. Please?
Let her bounce.
Outside the interior office doors stood two black-clad Allister Genetics guards, members of my father’s extensive private security force. They parted to make way for me, and I continued through the lofty Art Nouveau office building toward the elevators. There I swiped my wrist over a sun-shaped reader on the button panel, freeing up access to every floor save the twelfth—that was the animal growth facility, and perhaps ten people were permitted up there. Saturdays my father devoted entirely to work on the twelfth floor, shutting out all distractions, including his family. He called it “Code 12.”
I hit the eleventh button, for the main lab. The elevator opened directly into what was known as “casual” decontamination, which involved a mist of disinfecting spray, a harsh blast of air followed by a powerful suction, and a pair of stupid blue elastic booties and clear gloves. I left my satchel and jacket behind in a locker, subjected myself to the process, and stepped out into the blinding white laboratory, pulling on a lab coat as I went.
The main research floor was almost completely open, and yet segregated from the outside world—few interior walls, no exterior windows. Scores of scientists were at work within, either at one of the many long, stainless steel tables, at one of the vast computer banks, or inside one of the isolated quarantine areas. Most of the walls had holographic projectors aimed at them, the results of supercomputer-created rat and monkey colonies playing out before the scientists’ eyes—thousands of virtual reality animal simulations testing new drugs, new therapies, new gene combinations. The fake animals bred, were subjected to variables, and died at an astounding rate—up to fifty generations a minute.
I found my father standing before one of them, his expression drawn. “My lord.”
He looked at me and cleared his throat. “Son. What brings you up here?”
“I’ve just received an interesting invitation. Tea in New London. I thought I’d ask permission to leave for the day, and to take your carriage. I’ll put in the hours tomorrow.” The main AG building was located in the northwest corner of the preserve. It’d be a bit of a drive to New London and back.
My father waved me off. “Go. And while I appreciate the initiative, next time just text me?”
“Of course,” I said with a bow. I lingered as I straightened, wondering if I ought to just unburden myself of everything. It wasn’t guilt that made me wonder, merely self-preservation. My father could find this Ratcatcher fellow, call him off. I could still walk away.
“And while you’re at it, email your mother.” When I looked at him in confusion, he added, eyes and attention elsewhere, “She keeps calling me, asking after you. You need to cut the cord. Even though you’ve acted like an imbecile of the highest caliber, keeping you close to home forever would do nothing but turn you into a pale, dithering little woman. Tell her you no longer want her hovering. You’re finally acting like a young man, like an Allister, and I’m glad for it.”
Resolve disappearing, I bowed again. I couldn’t think of anything to sa
y. I recalled his earlier entreaties not to make him regret giving me latitude, and instantly berated myself for even thinking about opening my mouth. He’d disown me, embarrass me on an even larger scale—and he’d never respect me. Ever.
As I turned away a plump man in a tight white coat hurried up to my father and said, “My lord, the results are ready. This combination is extremely promising. I think I’ve managed to find a way to suppress several necessary proteins, although some problems remain.”
“Let’s see, Dr. Elpinoy.” My father turned to follow him.
At the mention of his name I glanced back, memorizing the fat man’s face. So he was the one my father spoke of earlier—the defector from Team Dearly. Interesting.
Half an hour later I left Allister Genetics, surrounded by four of my father’s elite security guards. They escorted me to his carriage and saw me off with a salute.
Lapin Innocent was a popular tearoom located in the rear gardens of the New Victorian Museum of Natural History. It was open to the public, accessible by a series of fanciful brass gates. Small signs warned: BEWARE PICKPOCKETS AND FANCY WOMEN.
I found Nora standing beside a stone fountain designed to look like a circle of dancing fairies, water jetting from their puckered mouths. With both hands, she held a leather lead, and at her feet sat a battle-scarred Doberman pinscher. She appeared to be alone.
As was I.
Before Nora could notice me, I allowed myself to enjoy a moment or two of voyeurism. Although I couldn’t help but imagine outfitting her more grandly, I still admired the relative plainness of her current gown and gloves, her small pieces of jewelry—they set her natural features off to perfection. Her hair was her crowning glory, and, I would argue, the only ornament she would ever need if she was in my bed. And what crime was there in wanting her there? She was obviously beneath me, classwise, but I could overlook that. I could forgive her everything, anything.
“A dog? Are you afraid I might try something?” I said when I finally abandoned my reverie and drew nearer.
Her eyes met mine and narrowed deliciously. The dog stood and growled at me, and she reined him in. “No. I’m hoping you do.” She looked around and asked, “Didn’t you bring a chaperone?”
“No.” Looking into her eyes, I almost lost my train of thought. “I need to talk to you alone.”
Nora looked uneasy—which I enjoyed, honestly. “About what?”
“What do you need to talk to me about?”
“Things that could be said in front of an adult.”
“I assure you, I want only privacy. And I’m willing to risk scandal to get it.”
Nora thought about it and nodded. Satisfied, I stepped past her and approached the host. Soon he was escorting us through a gauntlet of critical adult glances to a prime seat in a secluded area. Once we were seated I plucked the menu card away from her place setting, preventing her from even looking at it. “I’ll order.” I savored the annoyed look this offer caused.
“Make it fast,” she said after getting the dog to lie at her feet. I repressed the urge to kick the cur’s face in. “This isn’t a pleasure outing.”
“How disappointing. What would you like to talk about, then?” The waiter appeared, and before he could speak I specified, “High tea, your best white. And champagne.” He bowed and withdrew.
“Several things.” Nora glanced aside at some ferns. “Let’s start with my aunt.”
I dismissed this with a snort. “I believe my family’s been nothing but cooperative in that matter. I have nothing new to add.” I held forth my arm. “But if you happen to have a lie detector handy, by all means.”
“Don’t be cute,” she said, leaning forward. “My father will take yours to court, you know.”
“Over what? We helped Mrs. Ortega, and she disappeared.” A server arrived with a towering silver tray of finger sandwiches and cakes, and I helped myself to a scone. “My father let our driver take her back to town one day. The driver says he dropped her off. What happened after that is none of our concern. If ignorance is a crime, lock me up.”
“I wish I could.” She made no move to eat. “You might as well drop the act. I was on the ship. I saw what you did to Miss Roe, heard what you said. There can be no pleasantries between us. I’m here for information, and you owe me. We saved your life.”
Something changed at the mention of Roe’s name, at the insinuation that I was some kind of monster. At its heart was a mixture of anger and giddiness that threatened to crack my facade, and so it was very carefully that I stated, “I heard about the incident at her house. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, right.” Nora couldn’t lend breath to both words; her voice fell away somewhere in the middle. My heart ached at the sound of it. “Like you care about her.”
“I care about you,” I protested. She made a sound of disgust or disbelief and glanced aside. “Miss Dearly—I mean it. And we ought to talk about that.”
“Talk about what?” She looked at me again, expression almost insulted.
“The way you compromise yourself.” I softened my voice. “After all, I don’t think I owe you. Rather, I should say I owe that deadmeat you disgrace yourself with, as much as this idea pains me. Was he not your fearless leader that evening?”
“Don’t you dare talk about him that way.” Nora gripped the arms of her chair, but kept her voice low.
“Oh, if we’re to be honest today, I’ll talk about him in any way I wish. After all, you want something out of me, not the other way around. And I think that’s the word we ought to focus on today. ‘Honesty.’ ”
“What is this, kindergarten vocabulary time? Do I get to finger paint, too?”
“What it is,” I said, “is rending the veil. I think your life suffers from a lack of people willing to tell you the truth. I think you are overly indulged.”
The sommelier came by with the bottle of champagne then, and she was forced to cork her reply. Once he was gone she stood, ripping the napkin from her lap. “I’m not about to sit through this. This was a mistake.”
“Sit down,” I said firmly, “or I’ll turn over the table, and everyone will look and see us together. You chose this venue—this very public venue. You have to play it out to the end now.”
She rained hellfire on me with her eyes, but slowly sat. I tried to relax. I couldn’t afford to be scattered, emotional. “Now. First of all, I’ll again assure you I know nothing of your aunt. I’m very sorry for your loss. I mean that sincerely.”
She continued to regard me warily, but said nothing. Behind us someone laughed.
“Second, I shall say that you do compromise yourself. You think you aren’t gossiped about? But you know, I could protect you. Fight for you.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. I have a … vested interest in you. You’ve always fascinated me. But you act so rashly.”
“Shut. It,” she said, each syllable like a grenade going off in her mouth.
“Hit a sore spot, have I?” I said, unable to contain a smile. “But the offer is still extended.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“What about my perspective?”
“Oh. Please. However have I lived this long without it?”
This was almost fun. I was fully enjoying her—her adorably exasperated expressions, her fire. “Well, for instance, you want so badly to ascribe cruel reasoning to my actions, when all along I have been a gentleman—when all along I’ve acted in your best interests. I did truly attempt to protect Miss Roe’s reputation in order to defend your honor. I risked my life, leaving behind my parents, to physically defend the Roe family. And look what I’ve received in return. Insults. Threats. Never thanks.”
Her eyes widened. “You tried to kill Isambard. You told Miss Roe that the reason you paid attention to her was because she was shaping up to be something shameful from my past that you wanted to clean up. That once you had me, she’d never see me again, you disgusting cad. She left her own family to save you!”
“After he
became the living dead.” I ignored her second round of statements, but let them add fuel to the fire. This was what I had to help her with. She didn’t see things properly. “I acted nobly that night. And yet Griswold assaulted me, knocked me out. Do you think it’s cute that he shut me up so dramatically? Because he left me helpless in the face of a growing crisis. He’s not the hero you make him out to be.”
Nora continued to stare at me as if I were some sort of drooling beast. “Let me ask you something.”
“Please do.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me that you liked me?”
The question was unexpected, but the answer came to me swiftly. Capturing her gaze, I said, “Because my father hates your father, and I would not insult him by going as far as I wished with you. At least, not until I was older. The entirety of his reasoning escapes me, but let’s be honest, he’s right on one score … both your personalities could use some improvement. I mean to help you with that.”
If she’d looked homicidal before, my last few words caused her features to twist into something approximating the love child of Jack the Ripper and Satan himself. She hopped to her feet, and I gained mine as well—but before either of us could say anything, I felt a cold hand on my shoulder.
“Leave,” I heard Griswold say. “Now.”
Turning around, shrugging him off, I growled, “How dare you come here? Lay your hands on me?” Good God, had he been there all along?
“I go where I’m needed.” Griswold leaned closer to me, and I tried to hold my ground. “Like when I had to save your hide. Looks like I might have to do it again.”
The hatred and embarrassment that filled me at the sight of him was nearly frightening. I could barely form a coherent thought, but I still managed to say, “Afraid that once she was alone with me, she’d see the truth?”
Nora smiled, the motion strained. “No. I figured after you paid and left, we’d have a nice little date.”