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Authors: Meljean Brook
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had wondered the same. Whoever had thrown the man from the airship had been making a statement, but perhaps the Iron Duke had delivered the first threat.
She didn’t think Trahaearn would have concealed that, however—not after openly warning her that St. John’s life would be forfeit if the steward was connected, and promising to make the murderer regret catching his attention. If Trahaearn had known who the man was, he wouldn’t have let Mina through the gates and allowed her to question the staff. No, he’d already be moving to retaliate.
“A man like that, given a duke’s title.” Sheffield lowered his handkerchief from his mouth, revealing a disgusted frown. “It’s an insult to the rank. He knows nothing of honor or duty. Only the idolatry heaped on his head keeps it out of a hangman’s noose—and even this murder will be pardoned.”
Mina bristled. Though she held a similar opinion of Trahaearn, a bounder didn’t get to determine the Iron Duke’s worth, or judge the buggers who valued him over any other man or title.
Hale cast Sheffield a severe look. “If all he’s done is made an enemy, then he hasn’t done anything that needs pardoned.”
That wasn’t the response Mina would have given, but she appreciated Hale’s. Though Hale was also a bounder, the destruction of the tower had given her a measure of freedom, as well—and so perhaps she understood better why the Iron Duke was so revered. In Manhattan City, Hale had been an assistant to her late husband, a chief inspector. When he’d died, the Manhattan City police hadn’t let her step into his place or continue in the same occupation, though she’d been well-qualified for it. She’d been one of the first who’d returned from the New World following the revolution, and had joined London’s newly formed and critically understaffed Metropolitan Police Force.
Sheffield coughed again. Hale’s expression softened and her brow furrowed, perhaps wondering if he would relent and visit a blacksmith or physician who could infect him with the nanoagents. With his every cough, Mina wondered the same. Sheffield would have to gain special permissions to return to Manhattan City after being infected, but he had money enough for bribes, and enough power that even a New Worlder’s fear of the bugs wouldn’t affect his business or his status.
But perhaps Sheffield was the one who needed to overcome his fear of the bugs.
Hale’s gaze returned to Mina’s. “I’ll inform the commissioner that we are confirming identity and motive—and that we anticipate imminent apprehension.”
Mina suppressed her smile. “Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Sheffield, would you please wind the machine?” Hale selected letter-specific punch cards from the stack on her desk, arranging their order and forming her message. At the wiregram, Sheffield began spinning the influence machine’s handle, building up static stored in the battery of Kleistian jars. As if suddenly remembering Mina’s presence, Hale glanced up again, and raised her voice over the whir of the influence machine. “You’re dismissed, inspector. Send me a wiregram detailing your progress at every step, starting after your meeting with the Blacksmith in the morning.”
So that Hale could update their superiors. Mina nodded. “I will. Good night, sir.” She looked to the gentleman. “Mr. Sheffield.”
He bowed his head, never pausing in his spinning. “My lady.”
Inspector , Mina almost corrected him, but held her tongue.
As she turned, she saw Hale’s mouth tighten and the sharp glance she gave Sheffield. The superintendent didn’t hold with privileging the title over the occupation.
And Sheffield wasn’t a bad sort, but he would have to figure out a few things before Hale changed one of her titles to his missus.
Chapter Four
When Mina came down for breakfast, her parents were already seated at one end of the dining table, wearing enough layers to ward off the chill in the room. The gray
She didn’t think Trahaearn would have concealed that, however—not after openly warning her that St. John’s life would be forfeit if the steward was connected, and promising to make the murderer regret catching his attention. If Trahaearn had known who the man was, he wouldn’t have let Mina through the gates and allowed her to question the staff. No, he’d already be moving to retaliate.
“A man like that, given a duke’s title.” Sheffield lowered his handkerchief from his mouth, revealing a disgusted frown. “It’s an insult to the rank. He knows nothing of honor or duty. Only the idolatry heaped on his head keeps it out of a hangman’s noose—and even this murder will be pardoned.”
Mina bristled. Though she held a similar opinion of Trahaearn, a bounder didn’t get to determine the Iron Duke’s worth, or judge the buggers who valued him over any other man or title.
Hale cast Sheffield a severe look. “If all he’s done is made an enemy, then he hasn’t done anything that needs pardoned.”
That wasn’t the response Mina would have given, but she appreciated Hale’s. Though Hale was also a bounder, the destruction of the tower had given her a measure of freedom, as well—and so perhaps she understood better why the Iron Duke was so revered. In Manhattan City, Hale had been an assistant to her late husband, a chief inspector. When he’d died, the Manhattan City police hadn’t let her step into his place or continue in the same occupation, though she’d been well-qualified for it. She’d been one of the first who’d returned from the New World following the revolution, and had joined London’s newly formed and critically understaffed Metropolitan Police Force.
Sheffield coughed again. Hale’s expression softened and her brow furrowed, perhaps wondering if he would relent and visit a blacksmith or physician who could infect him with the nanoagents. With his every cough, Mina wondered the same. Sheffield would have to gain special permissions to return to Manhattan City after being infected, but he had money enough for bribes, and enough power that even a New Worlder’s fear of the bugs wouldn’t affect his business or his status.
But perhaps Sheffield was the one who needed to overcome his fear of the bugs.
Hale’s gaze returned to Mina’s. “I’ll inform the commissioner that we are confirming identity and motive—and that we anticipate imminent apprehension.”
Mina suppressed her smile. “Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Sheffield, would you please wind the machine?” Hale selected letter-specific punch cards from the stack on her desk, arranging their order and forming her message. At the wiregram, Sheffield began spinning the influence machine’s handle, building up static stored in the battery of Kleistian jars. As if suddenly remembering Mina’s presence, Hale glanced up again, and raised her voice over the whir of the influence machine. “You’re dismissed, inspector. Send me a wiregram detailing your progress at every step, starting after your meeting with the Blacksmith in the morning.”
So that Hale could update their superiors. Mina nodded. “I will. Good night, sir.” She looked to the gentleman. “Mr. Sheffield.”
He bowed his head, never pausing in his spinning. “My lady.”
Inspector , Mina almost corrected him, but held her tongue.
As she turned, she saw Hale’s mouth tighten and the sharp glance she gave Sheffield. The superintendent didn’t hold with privileging the title over the occupation.
And Sheffield wasn’t a bad sort, but he would have to figure out a few things before Hale changed one of her titles to his missus.
Chapter Four
When Mina came down for breakfast, her parents were already seated at one end of the dining table, wearing enough layers to ward off the chill in the room. The gray
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