because of a deep and crushing fear. “Within the privacy of these walls, I acquiesced to my feminine self, but out there . . . in the real world I am Willie G. The Clockwork Canary. I navigate life with the confidence and ease of a male. I do not . . . I cannot . . .” She swallowed hard, panic stirring in her blood. “Blast you for twisting me up, Simon Darcy.”
He tucked her shaggy hair behind her ears, framed her face with his hands. “I understand your motivation in terms of concealing your race. But your gender? You ask too much of yourself, Willie. And of me. I have no intention of losing you again. And, by damn, I will not see you struggling with circumstances on your own. I know,” he said, cutting her off when she tried to interject. “You’d manage. I have no doubt. You have managed for a good long time. If anyone is impressed and humbled, it is me. Now please do me the favor of allowing me to assist.”
Poleaxed by his fervid plea, she fairly swooned. Instead, she gestured to the Thera-Steam-Atic Brace. “How does this inspired gadget work?”
His eyes lit up and torched her heart. “Engineering the device was a bit of a challenge, but it is, in fact, quite simple to manipulate.”
Willie listened intently as he walked her through the procedure. A toggle here. A button there. She did as Simon instructed and, upon second try, grasped a pen in her augmented right hand and wrote upon a page most beautifully. “You’re a genius,” she said in honest, unabashed awe.
“I am my father’s son,” he said with a twinge of melancholy. “That is, I inherited his passion for tinkering with inventions. I do not believe I ever told him how much I admired his tenacity.”
Willie swallowed hard, feeling guilty about that wretched article regarding Reginald Darcy. For someone who composed sentences for a living, this moment she struggled with a proper response. “I wager he was aware of your regard.”
“Perhaps. At any rate,” Simon said, shrugging off the dark moment, “I do think Papa would have been particularly impressed and flattered by this invention.”
“Because you were inspired by his modifications for Leo?”
“A remarkable accomplishment.”
“As is this.” Willie manipulated her Thera-Steam-Atic Brace, grasping the whiskey bottle Simon had purchased two nights prior, and steadily pouring them a drink. She could feel the brace supporting yet manipulating her muscles. Her spirits soared, as did her confidence. “Astonishing,” she said. “Truly, Simon.” She lifted her glass in a toast. “To your innovative brilliance.”
He dipped his chin in quiet gratitude, but she caught the flash of excitement in his eyes as he clinked his glass to hers. “To your good health.”
Willie thought about his brother, Jules, and how Simon had always felt a bit inferior to his glorified twin. And she knew most certainly that his famous cousin Briscoe cast a wide shadow. Simon was most inspired and gifted in his own right. How frustrating it must be trying to excel above and beyond the Time Voyager. To make one’s mark.
A most wondrous concept that would have indeed been a celebrated contribution to society. Why exactly had it been stonewalled? The pressman in Willie itched to know.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Simon said as he recalibrated a portion of her brace. “This time-tracing ability. Does it work on everyone?”
She smiled down at the top of his head. “You mean, can I trace,
He caught her gaze briefly. “So can you?” he asked, then went back to tinkering.
“I cannot. It is a conundrum, I confess. It did not happen of its own accord upon the many times we touched nor when I intentionally ‘focused’ out of curiosity. Your memories are closed to me, Simon. I cannot say I am sorry.”
“Nor I.”
“You have secrets?”
“I have a history.”
“With the ladies.” She snorted in jest, but her jealous heart squeezed. “Your affairs are fodder for many a man’s fantasy. At least those men working at the
Once again his gaze flicked to hers, only this time he held it. “My affairs are but dalliances and have nothing to do with here and now. With us. From here on out there will be but one woman in my bed.”
Willie’s heart hammered against her chest with joy. With dread. She did not play coy. “You’re suggesting forever with a Freak, Simon.”
“I am.”
“I’m the first generation of my kind. Anything is possible.”
“How thrilling.”
“My life span could be short or it could be eternal. My supernatural skills could spiral out of control and overtake me or . . . or disappear altogether.”
“I could get hit by an automocoach tomorrow,” Simon said. “Or develop some horrific lingering disease. Nothing is a given.”
“There has been no documentation of a second generation. Yes, we are young, but not too young to engage in affairs and, hypothetically, produce children. What if we are infertile? Or what if those born of a Freak and Freak or a Freak and Vic are so hideous that—”
Simon kissed her. Deeply and with great passion. At once her anxiety melted away, and when at last he broke off, Willie swayed. Holding her steady, he quirked an arrogant, heart-stopping smile. “Concern noted and rejected. Here’s what’s going to happen, sweetheart. We’re going to do as you suggested and visit your father in hopes that he can, through his memories, lead us to the Houdinian and the clockwork propulsion engine. But first, we’re going to wed. I don’t give a good damn if it’s legal in the eyes of the queen. It will be significant to me and for once, I’m going to get what I want. That would be you.” He brushed his thumb along her lower lip. “Are we in accord, Canary?”
Their marriage would never last for a dozen reasons, starting with Strangelove, but, this moment, she could not deny Simon . . . or her heart. “Aye.”
CHAPTER 15
Simon couldn’t decide which thrilled him more: Willie’s reaction to his Thera-Steam-Atic Brace or his insistence that they wed. Although he assumed she would be amenable to anything that would accelerate her healing, he did not think she would adjust so easily to the brace. Nor did he expect such praise for his mechanical creation. His chest had swelled with pride. An adrenaline rush had rendered him dizzy. A preposterous, overblown reaction to her professing him brilliant. But by God, it had felt good.
Building one therapeutic brace for one woman paled in comparison with building a fuel-efficient monorail system for an entire city and yet it had felt equally important. Was this how his father had felt when fitting Leo with his artificial parts? Was this why he hadn’t bragged to the press or dragged Leo off to some scientific exhibition? Were Leo’s ability to adapt and Amelia’s undying gratitude satisfaction enough?
“I shall miss this city,” Willie said as their hansom cab rolled over the cobblestone of High Street.
“We must return at some point,” Simon said. “A leisure trip as opposed to business.”
She smiled but looked away and Simon knew she did not believe that they would be together long enough to enjoy a future holiday. Although she’d agreed to marry him, her lack of faith in a long and successful union was monstrously clear. Aside from the concerns she’d stated, she did not believe their marriage would be legal and binding. She assumed, the moment it was known she was a Freak, they would be no more than illicit lovers in the eyes of society as well as the British government. Which might have been the case, except Simon was of the mind that every law had a loophole, and he was confident he’d determined two whilst perusing assorted resources he’d found at a library within a few blocks of Squire’s Inn.
The British law that pertained to legal religious marriages of Vics and Freaks had never been enforced in
