Nero's Fiddle (38 page)

He gave a deep throated chuckle. “Perhaps you would like to try fry pans next?”

“Only if I can try one on Jackson first.” She grabbed her cloak. “I gave Bertie the suggestion we had a lovely evening but he got drunk. He knows nothing about the fiddle, so we don’t have to worry about wrangling with royalty this time round. His valet took it and the missing pages from Albert’s room, but we have to go; Dalkeith is not here.”

“I know, Fraser sent a messenger to say they have headed back to Leicester. Dalkeith left earlier today. The dirigible is waiting for us on the roof.”

She tossed the cloak around her shoulders and headed out the door into the passage built into the wall. “I like the fan, by the way. I’m going to use it on you, to make you do as I wish.”

He took her hand and kissed her exposed wrist. “I already do, you know I am yours to command.”

“Only so long as it falls in line with what you want to do,” she said as they took the same secret stairwell higher up, to the roof.

He followed close behind. “You wouldn’t be happy with a man you could push around, and we both know it.”

They climbed into
Bobby
and Nate waved to the driver to set off. Cara changed in the small airship, stripping off the silken gown to don buckskin trousers and corset. For once Nate kept his hands mostly to himself and handed her the shoulder and hip holsters. She draped her body with the familiar weight of the pistols. A wool frock coat kept out the worst of the winter chill and she pulled a cashmere scarf around her neck.

The dirigible raced back to her family estate in pursuit of the killer. The driver pushed the vehicle to its limits. Inside its distended belly, they sat on the padded seat that offered some insulation from the rattle coming from engine below.

“I want you to go on ahead and be with your Nan and Nessy. Organise Brick and the household men into patrols.”

She frowned. “What do you mean go on ahead? We’re in a teeny airship, there aren’t any other options.”

He picked up her hand and stroked his thumb over the pulse in her wrist. “When we spot Fraser, I’m going to drop down on him. We need to plan our approach with Dalkeith.”

The small touch elicited a big response in her body, arcs of electricity raced up her arm and through her torso. “You can’t even stand to be in the same room as him, and you’ll voluntarily sit in that horrid steam carriage with him?”

He smiled. “I want to make sure he won’t take it the wrong way if I inadvertently kill the man while
assisting
the Enforcers.” Having ruined her equilibrium, he released her and rose to stare out the window.

Nate’s version of assisting would be his sense of justice in action. Dalkeith threatened their family and Nate would make sure he paid. Cara watched her husband, one of his hands braced on the roof of the dirigible. The other clenched and relaxed into a fist by his side, the only outward sign he prepared himself for the fight ahead.

“Tell me something,” she said, waiting until he faced before continuing. “If your family had maintained their wealth, would you still have gone off pirating and causing trouble?”

A mere second passed as her words registered and then the smile spread over his face and revealed even white teeth. Always the predator.

“Yes, you would have,” she murmured. “Put us both out of our misery and take Victoria’s offer.”

“What do you mean?” He leaned against the side, she held his full attention.

She laughed. “You’re more grumpy than usual because, for whatever reason, you haven’t made a final decision. Become her spy master, it’s the only obvious path.”

“Do you know what you are asking?” His fist opened and clenched again. “I have played the spy game for some years, but only as a free agent. It is not a normal life, I will tear you from the normality of London and throw you into the path of danger. There will be travel, intrigue, and people trying to kill us.”

She smiled. Men thought they were so intelligent and yet they could be so dense. “Given the life I have led, it all sounds perfectly normal to me.” She glanced out the window and saw the Enforcers’ carriage puffing along the road below, the plume of smoke bright against the night-time sky.

The driver manoeuvred the baby airship to keep pace above but out of the drift of the noxious smoke. The flap in the roof opened and Connor’s head appeared, peering upward.

“You might think you are protecting me, but do you think I would ever be happy hosting boring dinner parties for fatuous politicians and their dour wives?” She rose as he prepared to leave the moving vessel. “How long do you think I would last before I shot someone over the jellied eels?”

He looked out the window and judged their height above the carriage before pulling back. His piercing gaze locked on her. “I couldn’t make that choice for you. I need you to be safe.”

She snorted. “If you lock me away to keep me safe, I will never be happy. I need to be free and protected. Take the job or I will start shooting politicians in the foot.”

Relief crossed behind his eyes. “I needed to hear it from your lips.” Nate slid the door open and the wind rushed in to the small space. He placed a large hand on either side of her face. “God, how I love you.” He claimed her lips in a brief fierce kiss and then leapt from the airship onto the roof of the conveyance below.

Nate dropped to his knees, one hand held the roof tie for balance. The dirigible pulled ahead. He glanced through the small flap into the carriage to find Inspector Fraser and Sergeant Connor staring back. Mask in place, Nate slid into their territory and pulled the flap shut behind him.

Inside was cramped, smelly, and damp. Small porthole windows on either side were the only connection with the outside world and the main source of illumination, assuming the sun were up in the sky. Connor held a small glow lamp that cast a faint green glow around the interior. It reminded Nate of close quarters on the first pirate airship he crewed. At least this didn’t smell of feet.

“Nice of you to drop in,” Fraser said, his tone colder than the ice clinging to the metal of the window frame. “My instincts were correct about Dalkeith, he is indeed the son of the duchess’ companion who died last year. Quite the fervent royalist according to his few friends.”

He shifted trying to find a comfortable spot on the hard wooden seat. “Let’s cut the civilities. Do you have any reinforcements meeting you in Leicester?”

“No. There is only one local constable and I did not see the point in troubling him for one rogue valet clutching a musical instrument.” Amazing how his façade changed when no women were present. This Inspector Fraser was harder and sharper. He gave a piercing stare from narrowed eyes as he assessed the unwanted intruder.

Nate nodded. Dalkeith hardly represented a threat to safety unless he was carrying a Gatling gun. “He will be caught tonight, the only question is will he still be breathing.”

Fraser spread his hands. “Naturally, I would prefer he lives to stand trial for his crimes.”

“Victoria will have us cover up the use of the artifact,” said Nate, curling his lip. “There is enough hysteria in London already and the people can never know of its existence. What exactly will you charge him with?”

“Murder by means of an unknown incendiary device,” the inspector said.

This time he couldn’t hold in the snort of air. “The whole of London believes the deaths to be the result of divine fire. With no evidence to the contrary, he’ll walk.”

Fraser’s smile dropped and his mask slipped. “That’s not my decision.”

Tension grew between the two men. Connor’s head swung left and right, following the conversation.

Nate stared at his blunt fingernails, considering his next words, the real reason for his drop into this hideous conveyance. Cara was wrong, this cheap vehicle was far more of a death trap than the miniature airship. “You build your career on pursing the wrong cases.”

A cold laugh vied for space in the small compartment. “I have no interest in a career, only in justice. Wrong-doing must be brought to light, no matter who committed it, or how highly placed.”

“You waste your time.” A prod, testing if he would reveal the existence of any real evidence.

Fraser inclined a fraction, enough to bump up against Nate’s personal space. “All it takes is one single person to talk. I’m sure Dalkeith is well aware of that principle.”

They understood each other, tested one another and the storm brewed. Soon it would not be contained. “Twice now, you have tried to sway Cara’s opinion of me. There won’t be a third opportunity.”

Connor leaned forward on his bench seat but Fraser put his hand on the sergeant’s arm, stopping his motion. “Are you threatening me?”

Nate leaned back and smiled. No matter how smart Fraser thought he was, he would not win. “I’m sure you have a file on me, Fraser; you should know I don’t threaten people. I make promises.”

The carriage came to a shuddering halt. Nate flung open the rear doors and jumped down into the brisk night.

Leicester, Wednesday 12
^th
February, 1862

ara jumped from a foot in the air, hit the ground running, and kept going. She ran up the stairs and burst into the darkened house, stopping the maid in the hallway. “Where is Nan?”

“Library, ma’am,” the girl said, dropping a quick curtsey.

Cara headed farther into the house to the double-height library. She pushed open the door to her grandfather’s inner sanctum, now sheltering her grandmother and Nessy.

“He’s here, somewhere,” she said, her gaze checking he wasn’t hiding behind an ornamental palm.

The walls were lined with soaring bookcases. A brass catwalk ran around the room at the first floor height. A spiral staircase in one corner was the only access way up and down to the upper level of books. An enormous desk sat before the only window, its legs carved with griffons that stood guard in each corner and held aloft the top with its green leather inlay.

Nan and Nessy sat before the fire, the shutters pulled over the tall window, the mythical creature desk guarding their backs. A stack of woollen blankets and buckets full of water and sand were arranged around the sofa.