Heart of Brass (30 page)

Arden settled in with Luke stretched out on the padded bench, his head in her lap. Alastair remained behind. “I’m going to make sure the bastard driving is taken to lockup. I’ll meet you at Evie’s.”

One thing Arden had always admired about the Wardens was that they were like a family, so familiar and intimate, always looking out for one another. In the beginning that devotion had made it difficult for her, because she’d felt outside of it despite her father’s lifelong service, and because she felt as though perhaps they pitied her because her husband had gone missing. Now, she was very happy to be a part.

Alastair closed the door and gave her driver directions. Within moments the automaton horses were galloping along the cobblestone streets faster than any real horse could. She cradled Luke’s head, her bloodstained fingers gently stroking his face.

“That feels nice,” he murmured. His eyelashes tickled the side of her thumb.

Since it seemed that he wasn’t in any immediate danger, she allowed herself to think of things other than the moment. “I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that was no accident.”

He chuckled, then winced. “The Company trying to tidy up loose ends, I reckon.”

She affected a sniff. “Well, they’re terribly sloppy at it.”

Another chuckle—softer this time. The flesh around his eyes crinkled. God, how she fancied those lines, etched so carefully into his skin by years of smiles and laughter. “I love how you hide your true emotions behind wit.”

“Really?” She ran her fingers through his hair, both massaging his scalp and searching for more shrapnel. “My mother always used to say it was highly annoying and very unladylike, and, further, that I would never get a husband if I insisted on saying whatever clever thing was on my mind.”

His eyes opened. “And then you got me.”

She smiled. “Exactly. You can be sure I made her eat crow then.” She hadn’t, of course. She just wanted to see him smile again.

He didn’t. “I wasn’t much of a catch, I’m afraid.”

“You seem to labor under the delusion that I was,” she drawled with an arched brow. “Neither of us was or is perfect, although I like to think that we’re both a little less self-involved than we once were.”

A frown creased Luke’s brow and she immediately set to smoothing it with her thumb, carefully avoiding the myriad of tiny cuts there. “This may sound like an excuse, but I don’t think I went to that woman just because we fought.”

Did it say ill of her that she was thrilled to hear him refer to the gorgeous Rani as “that woman”? “I have to confess, after seeing her on the steps tonight I wondered the same thing. Do you honestly think she tried to kill you?”

“Ardy,” he began in a low voice, “I think we both know I wasn’t the target, at least not immediately.”

Arden swallowed. The carriage had been heading straight toward her. “It seems we were correct in assuming the Company would come for you—for both of us. What makes you so certain Ogitani is involved?”

“I don’t know, but Wolfred didn’t seem all that surprised when I told him my suspicions.” He paused. “Speaking of Wolfred, what did you and he do when you disappeared out onto the balcony earlier?”

She appreciated that he didn’t push discussing that she was the initial target. “Saw that, did you? I thought you were too caught up in your admirers to notice if I came or went.” She sounded petulant despite the forced lightness of tone.

“Woman, I knew where you were every minute of the evening whether I wanted to or not.”

There was just enough humor in his gruff tone that she knew he didn’t really mind. The realization made her as giddy as a girl. “Alastair wanted to apologize for making presumptions regarding our friendship.”

“That was big of him,” he drawled.

“He’s a good man.”

“I hear sainthood is eminent.”

Arden grinned. “Jealous?”

“Deservedly so.” Luke sighed. “I suppose I can’t blame him for falling in love with you.”

Oh. She didn’t know how to respond to that. To be frank, the statement raised too many questions she didn’t want to ponder, ask or obsess over, such as whether or not he loved her, or she loved him. She knew only that he had put himself in danger for her, and that if she lost him now she might not survive it. She didn’t understand the depth of her emotion where he was involved, and at that moment she didn’t care. There was just the two of them in this carriage. No one asking questions or watching them. No expectations, just them.

When they reached Evelyn’s modest three-story townhome, Luke was able to walk in with just a bit of help from Arden and Gibbs. Arden sent the coachman downstairs to have tea and bread with Evelyn’s staff.

The medical rooms were in the back of the house. Evelyn had Luke lie down on a table while she took photographs of his internal workings. It was a process that never ceased to fascinate Arden. To think that it had been an accidental discovery made it all the more amazing.

“I don’t see any internal injuries,” Evelyn told her as she examined one of the panels detailing Luke’s ribs. “Though I’m not certain what it would take to hurt him. A sniper, perhaps. But it would have to be a damn good shot—look, even his heart is encased in metal. Brass, I think.”

Arden looked at the ghostly image and saw where her friend pointed. There was indeed a metal casing around her husband’s heart—almost like a cage. Knowing what she did about Luke’s skeletal plating, she hadn’t expected him to be badly injured, though she’d certainly been afraid for him. On one hand it gave her great peace to know how difficult he was to kill. On the other, she didn’t want to know all the things that
might
do the job.

“They made him virtually indestructible.” The darker woman’s awe was obvious. How long before Warden agents started getting the same augmentations? Perhaps Luke hadn’t been so wrong when he said there wasn’t much difference between the Wardens and the Company. Not much at all, just different views of good and evil.

“But
they
know how to destroy him,” Arden said. “I need to keep that from happening.”

Evelyn looked away. “You said Rani Ogitani was involved. You know that the W.O.R. has been investigating her?”

“We assumed as much. Why?”

Her friend sighed, and folded her arms over the bodice of her serviceable white blouse and black waistcoat. “I’d be speculating based on gossip if I told you. You must know there are going to be those who wonder if Huntley isn’t in league with her, especially since they were seen speaking this evening.”

“How the devil did you know they spoke to each other?” Her jaw tightened. “Alastair.” How the devil had he gotten word here so fast? Did he have a telephone in his carriage that operated on Aether waves?

“Don’t be angry. You know he’s acting on the Director’s orders. We all want this to have a happy ending, Arden, but we’re not going to risk your life for it, or the safety of this country.”

Arden pointed at the photographs of her husband’s insides. “That man stepped in front of a speeding carriage for me.”

Evelyn shrugged, dusky features impassive. “Anyone with his sort of augments would know he’d be in little danger if he braced himself the right way, which Huntley obviously did.”

Arden opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off. “I’m not saying that’s what happened; I’m just advising you to be prepared for people to wonder.”

“She’s right.”

At the sound of Luke’s voice, Arden turned. Her husband limped into the room bare-chested and in bare feet. His arms had been wrapped in temporary bandages from the elbows down and little red slashes dotted his face and chest. Without braces, his trousers hung low on his hips, and she could see a large bruise had begun to form over his left one.

“Where are your shoes?” Arden demanded crossly, because it was the only thing she could think of to say that didn’t involve swearing.

He gestured at Evelyn. “She took them.”

“Were you afraid he’d run off?” she inquired darkly, not bothering to temper her tone or her expression.

Evelyn flushed, and retreated a couple of steps. “His left foot was cut.” It was a lame excuse and Arden didn’t believe it for a second. “If you would take a seat, Lord Huntley, I’ll get you stitched up and take care of those fragments.”

Luke gingerly hoisted himself up on an examination bed. He looked tired, and in pain, which he had to be despite being so incredibly strong. He was still flesh, after all. His gaze sought hers. “She is right, Ardy. The Wardens will wonder at my loyalty even more now, and no doubt that’s exactly what the bitch intended.”

“What she didn’t intend,” said Alastair as he closed the door behind him, “was for you to be the hero and step in front of that carriage. Regardless of your capacity for damage, that will earn you favor with many of the Wardens.”

“Such as?” Luke asked drily.

Alastair lifted his chin. “Me.”

Heat seeped into Arden’s cheeks. Would it be so terribly difficult for Alastair to conceal the depth of his feelings? Maybe just for a little while? He’d done a tolerable job of it before Luke’s return. “Did the driver give you any information?”

“He’s barely coherent.” Alastair turned to her. “What did you do to him?”

“I used my discombobulator on him. He should recover all of his faculties before morning.”

“I certainly hope control of his bladder is among them. Good work, though. He might have gotten away if not for you.”

“My wife is a most capable woman,” Luke remarked, with perhaps a little extra emphasis on “wife.” And then to Alastair, “Thank you for your assistance.”

The two men stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. Finally, Alastair gave a slight nod and turned his attention elsewhere. “Do you want a hand, Evelyn?”

“You?” The doctor laughed. “You sew like a blind man. Thank you, but no. Lady Huntley can assist me.”

Arden stepped forward. Her gown was already ruined from the evening’s adventure, so what was a little more blood? Though she was tempted to throw a blanket over her husband’s naked shoulders to shield him from Evie’s gaze.

“Dr. Stone, I would like for you to examine my wife before we take our leave. She took a nasty fall earlier.”

Evelyn shot her a narrow look as she removed one of the temporary bandages from Luke’s left arm. “You failed to mention that.”

“I didn’t think it was important.” Arden made a face at her husband. “But I’m in no mind to argue, so I’ll submit to an exam when we’re done.”

The cut on Luke’s arm was deep, so deep Arden thought she caught a glimpse of gregorite. She swallowed hard. Mercifully, it wasn’t terribly bloody. She washed her hands in the nearby basin and assisted by holding the edges of the wound together while Evelyn used a small stitching apparatus that closed the cut from both sides with two needles that drew the thread back and forth through the skin. Arden made a mental note to discover the name of the inventor and give the man or woman her personal thanks.

Luke barely made a sound as they worked, though she knew from experience the procedure was unpleasant. When they were done, she swabbed the area with Lister’s antiseptic liquid, and set to work cleaning the smaller cuts that marked his skin. Using tweezers she assisted in plucking pieces of debris from the wounds as well. She was fine, her hands steady, so long as she didn’t look at him. Looking at him—in his eyes—reminded her of what he’d done for her, and the memory of it made her shake.

She wasn’t ready to shake. She’d do that later in the privacy of her own room.

“Do you have any idea where Ogitani might be hiding?” Alastair asked, bracing his hands on his lean hips.

Luke shook his head and sucked in a sharp breath when Arden pulled a particularly deep bit of glass from his shoulder. “Sorry,” she murmured.

He gave her a brief smile. “I’ll survive.” Then to Alastair, “I don’t remember a damn thing about her, mate. If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“You must admit it’s a little convenient that you don’t remember.”

Arden glanced over her shoulder at the other man, scowling. “This is becoming very tiresome. He’s the one who was hurt, remember? Perhaps I think it’s convenient that your ‘guard’ duties lapsed long enough for Luke to be injured.”

Anger flashed in Alastair’s gray eyes—and hurt. “That’s not amusing.”

“It wasn’t meant to be,” she shot back, forcing herself to hold his gaze.

Luke’s hand settled over one of hers, blessedly drawing her attention away from Alastair, because she didn’t know how much longer she could hold his stare. “I appreciate your faith, but Wolfred’s not the one who has to prove himself. I am.”

“I wasn’t insinuating that Alastair intentionally allowed you to get hurt. I’m merely pointing out that this constant distrust has reached a threshold of foolishness. Do you have to be killed before the W.O.R. will even entertain the notion of your innocence?”

She stared at Luke, but out of the corner of her eyes she saw Alastair and Evelyn exchange a guilty look. Good. She hoped the pair of them felt awful.

“She smelled of incense,” Luke said, frowning. “The kind they use in the opium brothels.”

“Sandalwood,” Alastair replied. “It’s a stretch, but it could be she’s hiding out in one of them.”

“Or it could be that she likes sandalwood,” Arden commented, looking between the two of them. “I won’t bother to ask how you’re both able to identify the incense used in those brothels.”

“I’m going to alert the Director,” Alastair informed them, cheeks flushed as he avoided making eye contact. “I’ll call upon the two of you tomorrow. Evelyn.”

When he was gone, Evelyn smiled at her. “I think you embarrassed him. Well done. Lord Huntley, you can get dressed. Arden, come with me so I can examine you. Then I’ll give you both something for the pain you’re going to have come morning.”

A little while later, after confirming that she wasn’t seriously hurt, and armed with a bottle of some sort of opiate, Arden found Luke—now fully dressed—and departed. Gibbs was already in his perch when they exited the house.

It was after two a.m. when they arrived home. Arden was in her bedroom, dressed in her nightgown, thanks to help from Annie, when Luke came in. He had stripped down to just his trousers again. She could grow accustomed to having him walk around like that all the time. Even with the cuts and bruises he was still the finest thing she’d ever seen. Modesty was not a virtue Arden could remember ever owning, and it certainly wasn’t one she intended to claim anytime soon.