He opened his eyes. A single rose from the bunch on the table was lying near his arm on the table. Had it been there before? He couldn’t remember. He looked at Alice, but her face was impassive.
“Thank you, Mr. Ennock,” she said.
“You’re welcome, Miss Michaels.”
“I think after everything we’ve been through we can use our Christian names. Please call me Alice.”
“If you’ll call me Gavin.”
“I shall, Gavin.” She pulled a damp handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at one eye. “Pollen.” She sniffed delicately. “We should think of the sleeping arrangements.”
“You can have Barton’s cot over there.” Gavin gestured. “I’ll take the floor near Barton himself in case he wakes up. I think we could find a way to string a curtain or something for you, if-”
“Not necessary,” she said with a small smile. “Good night.”
Gavin checked his own clothes-they were drying nicely near the stove-and rolled himself up in a spare blanket from the wardrobe. There was only one, and he decided Barton would just have to suffer, though the laudanum would probably give him a better night’s sleep than Gavin would get. The stone floor was hard and chilly, but eventually he fell asleep.
Sometime later, a sound jerked him awake. He tensed, though his training kept him from leaping to his feet.
The moon slanted through the narrow windows, providing just enough light for Gavin to make out Alice moving about in her baggy shirt and trousers. Barton snored on in his drug-induced slumber. Gavin watched through slitted eyes as she wedged a bit of wood underneath the door to keep it from swinging shut. Then she picked up the first of her husband’s little machines and carried it outside. A moment later, she returned for the second and the third. Once Alice had left the final time, Gavin counted to thirty and stole to the door, where he peered outside into the bright moonlight.
Alice had moved the machines some distance from the tower. As he watched, she flipped the machines over and, with a tool from her pocket, popped each one open and yanked various parts out of them. Before Gavin could make out what they were, she took the parts down to the river and threw them in with a splash. Tree, still asleep in the water, didn’t move.
Several things clicked at once in Gavin’s head. Alice hadn’t cared so much about getting the machines back as she had about making sure no one saw what the machines were for, either because their function was illegal or socially unacceptable. She had been especially frantic because Patrick Barton knew her, and he might babble about the machines’ origins to someone else, or worse, improve their design and show them off. Furthermore, Alice had said the machines actually belonged to her fiance and he would be upset if they were lost. Gavin now took that to mean Mr. Williamson would be upset if their secret got out. The robbery had revealed the existence of the machines to several people-Gavin, Simon, Barton, and anyone who read the report that Gavin would eventually write-so Alice had apparently decided to destroy the illegal or unacceptable parts, leaving “clean” machines behind. She could even blame the damage on Barton.
So, what were the machines for? The obvious answers-theft, smuggling-didn’t bother Gavin so much as the idea that Alice was being forced to cover up for her soon-to-be husband. What kind of man engaged in illegal activity and then dragged his fiancee into it? He clenched a fist.
Alice hurried back toward the tower, and Gavin rushed back to his place near the stove. He feigned sleep as Alice crept back into bed. After some time, her breathing deepened and steadied, while sleep eluded Gavin entirely. Finally, he got up and slipped over to the table, where the roses still lay scattered across the wood. With a glance at Alice, he picked up the rose closest to his chair, kissed it once, and crept over to the bed to lay it gently beside her pillow. She inhaled deeply, and he froze, but she only smiled in slumber. Gavin returned to his hard stone floor and lay awake for a long, long time.
Chapter Twelve
Alice awoke with a groan. Her muscles screamed when she rolled over to sit up on the lumpy camp bed, and she prayed she would never go through anything like yesterday again.
No, that was a lie. Yesterday had been the greatest thrill she’d had since. . well, since she had rescued Gavin from Aunt Edwina’s tower. She stretched and grimaced at the soreness. It felt strange to be wearing trousers. By all rights, she should be embarrassed wearing them in front of Gavin, but it didn’t bother her. Perhaps it was because Gavin didn’t care about rules.
The fire in the stove had died out, and Gavin lay before it, wrapped in his blanket. Morning sunshine sliced through the narrow arrow slits and cut strips across the stones near him. His white-blond hair, tousled with sleep, seemed to glow pale in the soft light. She swallowed. Yesterday, when he strode into the ruined shop dressed in black leathers, her heart had nearly stopped. Every moment they had shared came rushing back. His beautiful playing. His hypnotic singing. His bright smile. His optimistic, we-can-do-it attitude. The months fell away, and she was standing next to him while he played the devil’s own music to destroy the traps in Aunt Edwina’s house. He grinned with undisguised joy in the Third Ward’s little airship. He sang to her in Dr. Clef’s laboratory and touched her soul.
That day had been the most dreadful in her life. The Third Ward, with its fascinating inventions, its daring female agents, its promise of adventure, called to her. It wanted her, would accept her. The Ward didn’t care that she was a woman or a lady. She could explore the world, dissect dozens of gadgets, and the Ward would pay her for it.
All of which had made it hard to turn Phipps down. Even the Ward’s stunning salary wouldn’t come close to clearing Father’s debts. But that wasn’t the main reason. The main reason, the one she had refused to think about despite Louisa’s prodding, lay asleep in front of her. Gavin. She was already half in love with him, and worse, she was sure he knew it. Alice simply didn’t think she had the willpower to stay faithful to Norbert if she worked in close proximity to Gavin. Consequently, when Phipps had offered her a position with the Third Ward, she had forced herself to refuse.
Alice creaked to her feet and found a tattered rose on the floor. Her feet carried her over the floor to the stove. Patrick Barton snored in drugged sleep a few feet away from Gavin. Her heart beat quickly at the sight of him. Gavin had grown in the past few months. His shoulders had broadened, and his movements had become more confident. He had always been handsome, but now he was breathtaking. His black leathers contrasted sharply with his pale eyes and hair, his features had sharpened, and he showed a strength she hadn’t noticed before. Last night, she hadn’t been able to resist asking him to sing for her. The lullaby’s beauty nearly made her weep, and when he closed his eyes, her treacherous hands flipped one of the roses to the table in front of him. She had half hoped he would confront her about it, but he’d kept quiet.
What would it be like to touch him? He wouldn’t know-he was asleep. Even as the thought formed, that same treacherous hand reached down to caress his cheek. She could almost feel its raspy warmth beneath her fingers.
She snatched her hand back. That was quite enough. Alice set her mouth and turned to check on Barton. He was still unconscious. She didn’t want him to wake, but she didn’t know anything about dosing a man with laudanum, either, so she decided to let him be and get breakfast.
At the last moment, Alice stole back to the bed and slipped the battered rose into her pocket.
The sounds she made rattling through the tins woke Gavin with a start. He came to his feet before he fully woke, apparently ready to fight.
“Good morning,” Alice called over a tin of pears. “I hope you like fruit.”
Breakfast had nothing to do with hot chocolate. There was neither sausage nor newspaper. But a madman slumbered on the floor. When he showed signs of stirring, Gavin forced more laudanum down his throat.
“Won’t that hurt him?” Alice asked.
“It might eventually,” Gavin admitted, “but we have to keep him quiet until I can get him back to headquarters. Simon and I kept L’Arbre Magnifique asleep for almost a week, and he was fine.”
“He’s a clockworker. How would you know?”
