“That would be wonderful,” he said.
Alice hired a cab, and sometime later, they were pulling up to a shabby-looking row house. Kemp, who had been clinging to the back of the cab, hopped down.
“Is this Madam’s home?” he asked.
“It is,” Alice responded with overmuch cheer in her voice and a bit of color in her cheeks. Gavin caught on quickly. Either she’d been lying about the baron thing or they were poor regardless of the title, and Alice was embarrassed. He felt bad for her, but not too bad-it was a mansion compared to his family’s grimy flat in Boston, and a palace compared to the cellar he’d slept in until just lately.
Remembering his manners at the last moment, Gavin jumped down from the cab and held out a hand to help her out, then stood uncomfortably by while Alice paid the driver.
“If Madam will give me her key.” Kemp held out a hand for it, then hurried up the short steps to open the front door. Click swiped at Alice’s bedraggled skirts with a plaintive meow, and Alice picked him up. Just as she was bustling toward the short steps to the front door, two men emerged. Kemp stood back to the let them by. Both men were middle-aged and wore simple brown business suits and hats.
“Hello,” Alice said. “Who are you, please?”
“Are you the Baron’s daughter?” one of the men asked.
“I’m Alice Michaels, yes.”
“Ah. We just had a… business meeting with your father. It’s nothing you need concern yourself with, miss.”
“Is this about his”-she glanced at Gavin and lowered her voice, but Gavin still heard her-“debts?”
“It’s talk for men, miss,” said the second man.
“You’re from the debtors’ prison, aren’t you?” she said, her voice still low. “I’ve seen you sniffing round other people’s houses. You can’t imprison a baron for debts.”
“True, miss, true. But we can imprison a baron for a crime.”
“Crime?” Alice looked alarmed. “What kind of crime?”
“We’re in a public place, miss,” the first man said, “and this isn’t the sort of talk for a young lady to-”
Alice took a step toward him, a terrible look on her face, and the man actually backed up. “Tell me.”
“Er, theft and embezzlement, miss. He took money that didn’t belong to him and failed to return it, which, by a certain measure, is theft. We’re all aware that in the end the charges will probably not go anywhere, but Baron Michaels will have to spend the duration of the trial-many weeks-in prison, unless he can raise money for bail. And he will have to find money to pay a barrister.” The first man recovered himself and tipped his hat. “But all this is nothing you need worry your pretty little head over. Go on in and feed your cat, or wind it up or whatever you do. Is that cab available?”
Without further discussion, both men jumped into the hack and ordered the driver away. Alice, still holding Click, pursed her lips.
“Well. Father must be worried sick.” She hurried toward the steps, and Gavin followed uncertainly. “Last he knew, I was having luncheon with my fiance yesterday afternoon.”
It felt like a boot slammed into Gavin’s stomach. The entire world stopped, and he could feel every particle of air striking his skin like a barrage of tiny arrows. “Fiance?” he echoed.
“Yes.” Alice crossed the threshold while Kemp held the door. “Norbert Williamson asked me to marry him this afternoon. Yesterday afternoon. I’m still in shock.”
“I can understand that.” Gavin entered the little house, feeling stupid and a fool.
“Father?” Alice called, dumping Click on the floor. “Are you up?”
An affirmative response came from a back room, and an old man emerged, pushing the wheels of his chair with frantic, gnarled hands. He blinked at the roomful of people and automatons.
“Alice!” he said. He voice was tremulous with worry, and he sounded close to tears. “Thank God! I thought you had been attacked by zombies or worse. What happened to you? Who are-?”
“I’m so sorry, Father.” Alice knelt by his chair and took his arm. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I didn’t know things would turn out this way, or I would have sent a message.”
He put a shaking hand to his mouth in a gesture that Gavin had seen Alice use. “I didn’t get a wink of sleep. This is not what a proper daughter does to her father.”
Alice looked down, clearly ashamed. “No. I’m very sorry. I can’t explain or excuse it. I should have come straight home after meeting with Norbert. Can you forgive me?”
“Your aunt Edwina acted like this,” he continued, still distraught. “Even before the Ad Hoc ladies. And look what happened to her.”
Alice’s face tightened. “I’m sorry, Father.”
“Well.” He patted her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“May I introduce Mr. Gavin Ennock?” she said in a different tone. “He quite saved my life. Mr. Ennock, this is my father, Arthur, Baron Michaels.”
Gavin didn’t know if he should bow or shake the man’s hand or grovel on the floor. He waited to see what Arthur would do, and when he held out his hand, Gavin took it. He wondered why Arthur was in a wheelchair. Old age? Lost limb hidden by the blankets? Disease? The last thought made him wonder about the safety of shaking hands, but it was too late. Arthur’s grip was devoid of strength, and Gavin was careful not to press the frail fingers.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” he said.
“And you,” Arthur said a little faintly. “What happened, exactly? And where did this automaton come from?”
“It’s quite a story,” Alice said.
“Perhaps,” Kemp said, “Madam could tell it after a wash and a change of clothing? You must look after yourself.”
“That’s a fine idea, Kemp. Thank you. Gav-Mr. Ennock could use a wash as well, and I think some of Father’s old clothes might fit him until we can launder the ones he’s wearing. And perhaps you could also arrange for Father’s breakfast? He usually has tea and toast.”
“Immediately, Madam.”
The washtub hung in an alcove just off the kitchen. A bath and new clothes made Gavin feel much better, though he was yawning to split his head. He returned to the front room where Alice, who had cleaned up in her own room, was just finishing the story of their long night.
“Good Lord,” Arthur said at the end. “And you say there’s nothing left of the house at all?”
“Just Kemp,” Alice replied. “And Mr. Ennock, here. He has nowhere to go, Father, and considering that he saved my life, I thought you could offer him a place to stay for a while.”
“Er…”
The hesitation was obvious. Gavin kept a pleasant expression on his face, but was mentally heading for the door: So much for a reward, or a return to Boston. Or the chance to see Alice again. He felt like a bird covered in lead feathers. “I couldn’t impose, sir,” he said.
“I’m not sure about the proprieties,” Arthur said. “As a newly engaged woman, Alice, you can’t invite a young man to-”
“I won’t invite him, Father,” Alice interrupted. “You will.”
“Ah. Quite. In that case. .”
“I’m afraid the only room available has no window, Mr. Ennock,” Alice apologized. “It’s across the hall from mine.”
Some of the lead lightened, and Gavin managed a wider smile. “It’s better than a basement.” He covered another yawn, which made Alice yawn.
“You’re falling over from exhaustion, Madam,” Kemp said. “I must insist on a lie-down while I fix a place for Mr. Ennock.”
Moments later, Gavin was lying on a pallet in a warm, windowless room. He touched both his fiddle case and the nightingale for reassurance and thought there was no way he would actually be able to sleep after everything