The Girl in the Steel Corset - By Kady Cross Page 0,64
my personal stationery. See the watermark?”
Finley held the paper up to the light where she saw the image of the Greythorne crest engrained in the weave. “That’s not my writing,” she told him. It wasn’t, either.
“Maybe it’s the writing of your friend,” Sam suggested through clenched teeth.
Of course he would think the worst of her, Finley realized bleakly. He thought the worst of everyone.
“My handwriting stays the same regardless of who I am,” she defended, realizing how preposterous this must all seem to Jack Dandy—and ashamed that she cared what he thought of her.
“Aside from that,” Griffin interjected, “there’s no possible way she could have had enough time to get to the wax museum, steal the figure, take it to Dandy’s and return home. Not without being noticed.”
“Sure she could have,” Sam argued. “You just don’t want to admit bringing her here was a mistake.” Emily put her hand on his arm but he shrugged her off and went to stand in one corner of the ring, his back to the rest of them.
“Excuse me,” Jack Dandy said, drawing their attention once more. “Don’t you agree that it seems a tad bit, I dunno, suspect that someone would leave a likeness of Her Nibs on me doorstep with Miss Finley’s initials on your stationery?”
Finley stared at him. For a moment she thought he was pointing a finger at her, as well, until Griffin spoke once more. “Yes, I do. Regardless of anything else, Finley wouldn’t be foolish enough to leave such blatant evidence against herself with the wax figure. No one would.” He directed that piece of logic at a red-faced Sam.
“But, if it wasn’t Finley, who?” Emily stepped forward. “No offense, Finley, but who else could have gotten your stationery, lad?”
Finley wasn’t offended. She wanted to hear the answer, as well.
Griffin flicked a glance at Dandy, and obviously decided the darker fellow could hear whatever it was he was about to say. “Anyone with access to one of my homes could easily sneak into my study and remove paper from my desk or the guestrooms. You all have similar parchment in your own rooms.”
Jasper pushed his hair back from his face. “Someone sure is taking a lot of trouble to make it look like Miss Finley stole the figure, and to make it look as though she’s in league with Dandy.” He glanced at Jack. “No offense.”
Dandy bowed his head. “None taken. And now that I’ve done me duty, I’ll be off. I just wanted to make sure Treasure weren’t in no trouble.”
Finley’s face warmed. She walked across the mat to where the tall, dangerous young man stood. It hadn’t escaped her what a favor Jack had done her by coming there. “Thank you,” she said.
Dandy grinned rakishly. “No fanks, dove. Someday I’ll need a favor and I’ll come to you.” And then to Jasper, “Oy, Yank. Thursday nights I’ve a bare-knuckle affair going on. Miss Finley can give you my direction.”
Finley flushed even hotter. Jasper told Dandy he’d “think about it.” Dandy bid them farewell and gracefully slipped between the ropes to the floor and sauntered out the door. Finley watched him go with a little sadness. She liked Jack.
When she turned back to the others, they were all staring at her. “Why would someone do this?” Emily asked.
Griffin’s stormy eyes narrowed. “I don’t know, but someone has taken pains to cast doubt in her direction, first with Scotland Yard inquiring into the murder of Felix August-Raynes and now this.”
Sam stepped forward. “She was questioned about a murder? Bloody hell, Griffin. Why is she still here?”
Finley didn’t flinch. She wondered the same thing.
Griffin scowled at his friend. “She didn’t commit either crime, Sam. Someone’s trying to make her appear guilty so I’ll toss her out. I think The Machinist wants to cause tension in my house so I’ll leave him alone. And I believe I have proof.”
That stopped conversation. Everyone stared at Griffin, who took a deep breath to calm himself before elaborating. “Earlier, when I spoke to my steward he told me that someone had forced the locks on the entrance to my grandfather’s caverns, where the Organites and ore were originally discovered. It seems too coincidental that a groundskeeper from that estate resigned a few weeks ago. I’m fairly certain this ‘groundskeeper’ stole some of the ore. God knows what else he might have taken. He sent this letter, and he stole the queen’s likeness from the wax museum. I’m convinced it’s The Machinist.”