The Golden Spider (The Elemental Web Chronicles Book 1) (9 page)

W
ITH A SUDDEN
start Amanda sat upright, horrified to realize she’d fallen asleep on top of her notes in the laboratory‌—‌Thornton’s laboratory. She’d been so very tired. After too many late nights studying into the early morning hours, frustration finally gave way to exhaustion. She’d been simply too tired to identify the problem with the neurachnid. Only a moment’s rest, she’d promised herself, a moment to close her eyes and rest her mind. Instead, she’d ended up napping.

Leaning closely to the side of the polished incubator, she checked her reflection. Her cheek was red and imprinted with the lace pattern of her sleeve. Several strands of hair had pulled free, and the scooped neck of her bodice had shifted.

She clapped a hand to her chest, adjusting her neckline and tucking the escaped locks behind her ears, then, her face burning with embarrassment, glanced discreetly across the room, praying none but the nearby rats had been provided with an interesting view.

Henri’s coat was gone. She’d chastise him later about leaving her to sleep the evening away on a workbench.

In the far corner, Thornton’s human volunteer, now with advanced hearing, slept on a cot. Earlier she’d seen the man clutch a bed pan to his chest, moaning as his eyes rolled backward. Now he slept the sleep of the heavily sedated. Samuel, one of the laboratory technicians, sat in a nearby chair, head bent in slumber over a loosely clutched book.

She pulled out her pocket watch and gasped. Quite some time had passed since she’d closed her eyes. It was nearly midnight.

Rats moved about their cages with a soft rustle, going about their nocturnal business, gnawing on seeds. Her own stomach complained in sympathy, but she couldn’t leave the laboratory yet. Already, mental clarity was returning, and she felt the sharp edge of a breakthrough scraping her mind.

She spun on the laboratory stool to face her research notes and grabbed a fresh sheet of paper. Her hand moved as if of its own accord, sketching out the image forming in her mind. She added lines and notes and details as to which pins, gears, springs and guards to use. Several minutes passed before she set down her pencil and sat back to stare at the plans for a new‌—‌and better‌—‌neurachnid before her.

It just might work. Satisfaction tugged her lips into a small smile. Wait. She tipped her head and sighed. In that position, the reaper guard might fail to catch. Unless she‌—‌

“No. That won’t work.” Thornton’s voice wrapped around her, deep and dark. More than just the thought forming in her mind melted.

She froze. She’d been so lost in thought that she’d failed to note his approach. Despite his limp, the man moved as quietly as a panther on the hunt.

For all the long hours she’d spent in his laboratory over the past few days, she’d seen precious little of the renowned Thornton outside the lecture hall. Now, here he was, standing so close she could feel his body heat. So close that as he reached past her to place a finger to her sketch, his arm brushed hers and a thrill ran through her, settling low inside.

She risked a glance, then found herself staring. The shadow of a beard darkened his jaw. Wild dark curls fell across his forehead. Wide, soft lips pursed in thought. Her heart tripped before picking up its pace, disregarding her mind’s insistence that theirs was a purely professional relationship. Would that it was her right to reach out, to run her fingers over his rough beard and into the tangle of that hair, to pull those lips to her own.

Her breath caught, and she dragged her gaze away. “What won’t?” she asked. They were colleagues, that was all.

Focusing on the benchtop didn’t help. Thornton’s shirtsleeves were rolled back, exposing a scattering of dark hairs across strong forearms. As his large hand snatched up her abandoned pencil and began to modify her design, joints and tendons and muscles flexed and shifted in a strangely alluring manner.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, forcing much needed air past the struts of her corset and into her lungs. Then, with a large quantity of willpower, she opened her eyes and began to objectively evaluate his alterations and his comments.

“If you move this spring and connect it to this gear instead…‌” He went on at length, pinpointing every issue before solving it with ease.

The small, simple adjustments would allow the thoracic gears to turn unimpeded and increase the angle to which the spinnerets could bend as they wove. The hardest to reach parts of the central nervous system would now be reachable. The man was breathtakingly brilliant, his mind an intricate seduction. She wanted…‌ what she could not have. Time to leave. Flee.

“I’ll start on the changes tomorrow.” Amanda looked up. “Thank you.” The words fell automatically from her lips, but came out as a whisper.

For his expression was unreadable, his eyes different somehow. Darker. More liquid. Then he blinked and addressed his next words to a space over her left shoulder. “I’d like to apologize,” he said, straightening. “For the public set down I gave you that first day in class. A knee jerk reaction, I’m afraid, when one works too secretively for too long. To discover an untrained student’s work might very well hold the key to solving a long-standing problem…‌” He cleared his throat. “This neurachnid, along with the nerve agent, might very well improve the acousticocept surgical process and resultant outcome.” He waved his hand over the papers. “You’ve done impressive work here.”

Amanda nodded, accepting both the apology and the compliment. She had a feeling he rarely delivered either. She swallowed, gathered her nerves and pressed her advantage. “Working together, we might well be able to speed the process.”

He nodded. “I’ve not been much of a mentor, I’m aware.” He glanced at the door to his inner laboratory. “There’s been a pressing issue with other research…‌ but now, I find I have some time.”

Her heart sank. He wasn’t here of his own accord. At best, her project was a way to fill his free time. At worst, Lady Huntley had badgered him into fulfilling his duty toward his student. Possibly both. Either way, she’d best set her girlish infatuations aside and focus on the task at hand. She directed her words to the sketches before her. “I’d quite welcome the assistance.”

“There’s one more thing.” His voice held a note of warning.

She held her breath.

“Mr. Simon Sommersby appeared in my office yesterday, petitioning me for a place in my laboratory.”

Amanda’s jaw tensed. Not only had she won a coveted laboratory position, she spent many long hours in here, out of Simon’s view, out of his reach. With so many laboratories to choose from, why this one? Classic male territorialism. Simon perceived Thornton as competition for her hand. Perhaps he would be right to worry, if only his perceived opponent demonstrated any interest. Both of them frustrated her to no end.

Thornton gave her a significant look. “It seems he thinks I have need of a nerve calming agent. I realize that the two of you have something of a personal relationship‌—‌”

“We’ve made no promises,” she objected, then, her face flushing, realized his true concern. With wide eyes, Amanda shook her head. “I’ve told him nothing.” Simon knew of her work. They’d discussed their respective research interests in vague terms over tea, but nothing specific. “He knows only of my interest in using clockwork devices to repair nerves, nothing more.”

His eyebrows rose. “Really? Interesting.”

Her stomach clenched into a tight knot. There she’d sat, wondering if such a man could be romantically interested in her, quite possibly jealous of Simon, and all the while he’d actually been wondering if she was betraying him, leaking laboratory secrets. Then a thought occurred to her. “Your…‌ your injury is common knowledge. Perhaps‌—‌”

“Yes, perhaps.” Thornton rolled down his cuffs and lifted his coat from a nearby stool. “Now, the hour is late,” he said, once again all stiff formality. “I’ll escort you to your carriage.”

They walked in uncomfortable silence down the stone-paved hallway, the only sound the rhythmic tap of his cane, his movements easy despite the small hitch in his step.

Amanda had to ask. “Has there been any progress on the gypsy murders?” She waited as his lips twisted in consideration. Would he still tell her? Still include her in the investigations?

“None,” he said. “Though I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time before another victim is found, Black works diligently to make it otherwise.” His steps paused and he turned a thoughtful stare upon her, then seemed to come to some kind of decision. “Black’s mother is gypsy. He was raised in a caravan, around campfires. He speaks Romani. If there is anything to be learned among them, Black is our best chance to ferret it out.”

“Gypsy,” she repeated. That would explain his dark, swarthy looks and the distinct air that he was anything but a gentleman.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Thornton’s eyes grew hard as they searched her face.

“No! Not at all.” But this new knowledge left her no choice. She had to tell him, before Black discovered her family’s secret and told Thornton himself. She would not have him looking upon her with suspicion again. She desired his respect. “There’s something you need to know, something you must keep in the utmost of confidences.”

With so many lives at stake, it was past time to break her promise by telling Thornton.

His eyes narrowed, promising nothing. “Tell me.”

“My sister, Emily, eloped some months ago. With a gypsy. A childhood friend named Luca.”

The great country estates of the peerage relied heavily upon gypsy labor and their finesse with clockwork-driven machinery. Most
ton
children were forbidden to visit their camps, to befriend the gypsies, but Father had waved aside Mother’s concerns. Once merely a distant relative of the former duke with no expectation of inheriting the title, Father had not been raised as an indulged elite. He’d worked‌—‌at the docks, in the fields, in trade‌—‌and believed in personal industry. As such, Amanda, her brother, and two sisters had been actively encouraged to seek out knowledge wherever it resided, and the gypsies on their country estate had had much to offer.

His permissiveness‌—‌resulting in Emily’s elopement‌—‌was now the source of a deep rift and a festering argument between her parents.

Emily’s actions, were they to become publicly known, would have deep and lasting social ramifications for Amanda’s family. Mother had great marital aspirations for her remaining daughters, particularly Olivia. Even Ned needed to marry well, and the pool of acceptable brides was already greatly reduced due to his injuries. Father’s post was a political one, easily lost to social opinion. No, Emily’s marriage to a gypsy needed to remain a secret from society.

“Emily does not wish me to visit,” Amanda said. “I don’t know her whereabouts. We communicate by letter, one gypsy after another passing along our messages, hand to hand. Sometimes days pass, sometimes weeks, before a letter returns. I’ve written her about the formula, but,” she shook her head, “I’ve had no response yet.”

“So Lady Emily could be anywhere.” Thornton’s mouth was a grim line.

“Yes. But Nicu Sindel, the gypsy who often sets up shop in Clockwork Corridor? He is my brother-in-law’s grandfather.”

“And would likely know Lady Emily’s whereabouts,” Thornton concluded, his eyes lighting with interest. “Henri took you to his caravan for parts.”

Amanda nodded. “He did.”

Nicu had folded Amanda in his arms, welcoming her like family, inquiring about her own. Emily was fine, more than fine, he’d whispered in her ear. Yet when she’d discreetly inquired as to her sister’s whereabouts, Nicu shook his head. He’d make certain Emily knew of Amanda’s desire to visit, but a gypsy guarded privacy above all else. Emily herself would have to extend the invitation. Amanda might be family, but she was also
gadji
‌—‌an outsider.

She told Thornton as much, then finished, “Every day I go to Clockwork Corridor, but Nicu has yet to return. Perhaps Black can help?”

“Of course.” Thornton began to walk down the hallway once more. Faster, as if eager to be rid of her. “I’ll set him to it. Immediately.”

At this speed, his limp was far more pronounced, the earlier ease of his steps, gone. The man’s leg hurt him far more than he was willing to admit. As a physician, he would be using medication in addition to the brace, but there was more to be done. She had studied traditional Oriental pressure points and thought they might provide him with some relief.

She grew warm at the thought of wrapping her hands around the man’s leg and thought better of extending the invitation.

Together, they stepped out of Lister Laboratories onto pavement. A line of stately gas lamps attempted to cut through the gathering fog.

She made one last attempt to ask. “Does it hurt?”

“Hurt?” he asked.

“Your leg.”

He sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

She waited.

“Yes, it hurts. With every step, a thousand tiny needles pierce my foot.” A one-shouldered shrug. “The drug keeps the damaged nerve from deteriorating further. It dulls the needles. The brace stabilizes the muscle damage already done. What is there to do but carry on?”

Carry on, indeed. Build a better neurachnid and obtain the formula for her sister’s nerve agent. If that could be accomplished, many problems might be solved.

They turned a corner and her waiting steam coach came into view.

“Tomorrow, we will redouble our efforts,” he said. “I will set aside the entire afternoon to work with you on your project.”

Amanda’s heart leapt. “That’s most generous of you.” Did that mean she was forgiven for her secrets, her suitor and her questions?

“It’s the least a mentor should do.” Thornton handed her into the carriage. “Good night, Lady Amanda,” he said, and firmly closed the door, giving her no chance to reply.

Thornton turned and strode back in the direction of the laboratory, leaning a bit more heavily on his cane. Did the man ever rest? For she had no doubt he would be summoning Black to his office in the small hours of the night to send him in pursuit of Nicu Sindel and his granddaughter-in-law, Lady Emily.