The Girl in the Steel Corset - By Kady Cross Page 0,108
information, which she needed.
“All right,” she agreed. “I’ll come to dinner. When?”
“Don’t you worry nuffing about that right now. I’ll let you know when. Now, you pass on to his dukeness that whispers in this part of the world say that The Machinist’s plannin’ something for the twenty-second.”
“Planning what?”
“I don’t know what,” he sounded terse. “Do you know ’ow much bother it was just to find out that? The Machinist ain’t exactly loquacious when it comes down to his nefarious undertakings.”
There was something strange and almost lyrical about those educated words uttered in that thick Cockney. Finley shook her head. “Sorry, Jack. I was just hoping for more. I appreciate you ringing me. Honestly.”
“All right then.” He sounded mollified now. “If I hears anything else, I’ll let you know. And, Treasure?”
“Yes, Jack?”
“Be careful, will ya? I employ a very fine cook and I ’ate for you to miss out on what will be the meal of your lifetime because you’re dead.”
Finley smiled—at both his words and his tone. He might have coated it with caustic wit, but she heard the genuine concern in his voice. “I would hate for that to happen, as well. Don’t worry about me.”
He sighed exaggeratedly. “Not sure as I ’ave much choice in the matter.” Then, abruptly, “Right. I’m off then. I’ve a menu to plan, don’t I? Let me know how things turn out.”
The connection broke before Finley could say goodbye. Bemused, she hung up and then went off in search of Griffin to let him know that whatever Garibaldi had planned he was supposedly going to do it in three days.
Griffin was sifting through all information he’d managed to find in his father’s notes about Garibaldi when Jasper entered his study. Not much to help them find the villain, but it provided some insight into the man’s mind.
He glanced up from his father’s handwriting—his father had been worried that Garibaldi might do something rash to prove to Victoria how important the Organites were to modern science. “Jas, what’s wrong?”
Jasper rubbed one hand over the back of his neck. “I just wanted to tell you that whatever you need me to do to help you get this Machinist fella, I’m in.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” His acquaintance—no, friend—looked distracted. “Is there something else you’d like to discuss?”
The cowboy met his gaze. “You know, I’ve done some things in my life that I ain’t proud of, and I haven’t always been a decent sort of man. But working with you these last few days…well, I feel like I’m on the right side for a change, and I just wanted to say thank you.”
Griffin couldn’t have been more surprised if Jasper had shot him. “Uh…you’re welcome.”
Jasper shrugged. “Listen, about why I came to England…”
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Finley’s arrival.
“Oh,” she said, spotting Jasper. “I’m sorry, Griff. I thought you were alone. I’ll come back later.”
“No,” Jasper said. “It’s good, Miss Finley. I’m done.” He shot one last glance at Griffin before pivoting on his heel to walk toward the door.
“We’ll talk more later?” Griffin asked.
Jasper looked over his shoulder at him and shrugged. “Sure.” Then he brushed past Finley and left the room.
“What was that all about?” Finley asked as she came to stand beside him. She was looking at the door as though she kept expecting Jasper to return.
“I couldn’t tell you,” Griffin replied with real honesty. “What do you need?” It was perhaps rude and abrupt of him, but he wasn’t in the mood for patience today.
“I spoke to Dandy,” Finley confided, turning toward him. “He says he heard that Garibaldi has something planned for the twenty-second.”
“The twenty-second?” Griffin mulled the date for a moment. Bloody hell! He gaped at her. “That’s the day of Her Majesty’s jubilee procession through London.”
The gravity of that realization filled Finley with dread. “It will be next to impossible to find him in that crowd. But what can he do? He can’t very well walk his creation right into the throng, can he?”
“No, but he could waylay the queen at some point. If he means to make a statement, such a venue would be the perfect spot. What if he puts a bomb in the bloody thing? He could pretend to offer the automaton as a gift to Her Majesty and then detonate it. Or he could kidnap the queen and put the mech in her place. God knows what he has planned.” And there was no way to find out.