The Girl in the Steel Corset - By Kady Cross Page 0,31

inside her head again.

This time Finley didn’t immediately terminate the telepath’s rude intrusion. Instead, it was as though some part of her mind got up off a sofa, walked calmly across the room and slowly, but firmly, closed a door to shut her out.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Griffin’s aunt turn her head toward her, so Finley angled her own head, still resting near the window, to meet the older woman’s gaze.

“What are you?” Lady Marsden asked, not bothering to hide her surprise. Obviously the lady was not accustomed to being caught snooping, let alone shut down twice.

“I have no idea,” Finley replied honestly. She started to turn back to the window but Griff was staring at her with a glint in his eye she found hard to ignore. He watched her as though she was some kind of exotic animal—one he thought might bite him, even as he was sticking his hand into the cage.

Why had he been able to soothe her so easily before? Why hadn’t she felt him in her head as she felt his aunt? Or was his “magic” something different?

What did he think of her now? More importantly how could her parents possibly have known his? They were from two different worlds. He was rich and Finley and her mother had been anything but before her mother’s remarriage. Even still, Finley had decided to go out on her own and support herself rather than be a burden.

Silas Burke’s bookstore was located in Russell Square. He and Finley’s mother lived in a set of comfortable rooms above the shop. Finley had lived there, as well, until eight months ago when she moved out to go work as a nanny. That post had lasted a little longer than the others, but once her mercurial moods began to frighten the children, she was let go. At least they gave her a good reference.

There were a few curious stares as they stepped out of the carriage, first Griffin who then stood to assist both his aunt and Finley. Silas Burke, Bookseller, did a good business and books were something only people with money could afford to purchase, but dukes were rare in the peerage and seeing one was always something of an event. Seeing someone they recognized as one of their own—in this case, Finley—in the company of a duke was even more exciting. More gossip worthy.

But as soon as Finley stepped inside the shop, her ire and anxiety eased as negative feelings always did when she caught the smell of paper, ink and leather mixed with her stepfather’s sweet pipe tobacco.

Fanny, the spindly automaton that assisted around the store, was at the shelves, placing a volume on the top of one of the many ceiling-high cases, her long arm extending even farther with a series of clicks and pops until it had the desired reach. The book slid easily onto the shelf and then Fanny’s arm retracted. The automaton needed a good oiling judging by the grinding sound that accompanied the movement.

“Hullo, Fanny,” Finley greeted with a smile, not expecting to hear a reply—Fanny didn’t have a voice box as some new metal did, nor was she programmed to respond. Still, Finley had always talked to the ancient android, and it seemed wrong not to do the same now.

She didn’t see either Silas or her mother, but it was luncheon time for working folk. Griffin and his aunt wouldn’t take their repast for another two hours, and they would still be enjoying their supper when Finley’s mother readied for bed. She didn’t feel any resentment for these differences, but they did make her wonder just what the devil she was doing in their company when it was so obvious she didn’t belong.

The bell over the door had chimed when they entered. By now, her stepfather would be on his way back down here. Finley blocked out all other sounds and listened. She heard Silas’s voice, and the opening of a door.

“My stepfather is on his way,” she told her companions, a bit of her nervousness returning.

Lady Marsden regarded her closely. “You can hear him.” It was a statement, not a question, so Finley didn’t bother to respond. It was almost as though the marchioness was accusing her of something nasty. She felt guilty just standing there in what was essentially her own home.

When the door that led upstairs opened at the back of the shop, Finley ran to greet her stepfather and was met