Cordelia shrugged somewhat sullenly. Times like this reminded Griffin that she wasn’t even ten years his senior.
Griffin sighed and pushed a button on the box atop his desk. “I’m going to have some coffee, during which I’m going to read Father’s notes on Thomas Sheppard. Then, I’m going to sit down with Finley. I can’t image how she feels knowing her father was the inspiration for Jekyll and Hyde.” That had been a tidbit that came out earlier in the afternoon—courtesy of Cordelia, of course.
His aunt set the ore on the desk once more. “Sheppard was careless. There was gossip. Of course he provoked Stevenson’s interest. Finley will do the same if she’s not careful, which she won’t be. She could call undue attention to all of us.”
And by that she meant Griffin most of all. He shook his head. “And that gives you the right to be mean to her?”
His aunt turned to stare at him, as though she could not believe he’d question her. “She pushed me out of her mind, not once but three times. Do you know the number of people who have ever been able to do that? None! Whether or not you want to admit it, that girl’s dangerous—and you treat her like a houseguest!”
“She
“Until she snaps someone’s neck. What if she attacks Emily?”
“She won’t.” If only he felt as certain as he sounded.
“You have no way of knowing that. Mrs. Dodsworth told me how she threw the footman as though he was nothing more than a toy. You put everyone in this house in danger by having her here. I cannot allow it.”
Griff stiffened. He met his aunt’s gaze carefully, fighting to keep his anger under control. “You have no say. It’s my house.”
Cordelia scowled, fists on her hips. “I am your guardian.”
“Do you really want to fight me, Delia? Because I’m certain the family solicitors will side with me.” Of course they would, they knew it was Griff’s fortune that paid their bills, that Cordelia ran things in name only. It was Griff who made estate decisions.
His aunt looked at him as though he’d slapped her. “She’s that important to you?”
He nodded. “She is. I can’t explain why, but I know she belongs here, with the rest of us.”
“She’ll never be able to be part of something while she’s two halves of a broken whole.”
Griff smiled slightly, knowing he’d won without driving too much of a wedge between himself and his aunt. “Then we’ll just have to put her back together.”
Cordelia arched a brow. “We?” But Griff knew she would help him. She always did. Sooner or later, she would see that he was right about Finley.
His coffee arrived—an entire silver pot full, piping hot and smelling like heaven. He poured some into the china cup and added cream and sugar. When it was the perfect color and sweetness, he took a drink. It was good.
Cordelia took her leave—she had plans for tea and had to change first. Griffin sat down at his desk after finding a journal of his father’s marked “Thomas Sheppard.” His father had kept copious notes on all aspects of his life—a habit Griffin did not share.
His father’s notes only backed up what Finley’s mother had told them—that Thomas Sheppard had been conducting experiments with his father on the dark vs. pure side of human nature. Sheppard took to experimenting on himself, unsure of what his potions might do to others. What he’d done had enabled his darker nature to totally obliterate his good, and vice versa. He split himself into two opposite halves. Apparently he tried to stop the experiments once he found out Mary was expecting Finley, but by then it was too late—the metamorphosis was happening on its own without the aid of chemistry. The damage had already been done. Though Sheppard hadn’t known it at the time, he had passed his affliction onto his unborn daughter.
Sadly, Thomas Sheppard was killed shortly before Finley’s first birthday. He’d been overtaken by a seizure away from home, metamorphosing into his dark self. He hurt someone who got in his way and that set the Peelers after him. In his quest to escape, Sheppard had tried to steal a carriage and was shot by the owner. The officers who took the wounded man to Scotland Yard were shocked when he changed from his almost bestial form into that of a soft-spoken scholar. Thomas Sheppard died before the surgeon could attend him.
His father’s notes went on to express a sense of responsibility for Mary Sheppard and her daughter, but the woman disappeared, refusing the duke’s help. There was also regret. Griffin’s father wrote,
What had his father given Sheppard? Was it the same mysterious “catalyst” as that which had caused both Griffin and Sam to develop their abilities? If so, why hadn’t they been driven mad like Sheppard? Why were they not affected in a similar fashion?
He turned his attention to the final notes on the page. His father was worried about Mary and her child, worried what effects their experiments might have had upon Sheppard’s daughter.
Poor Finley. Not only had she discovered the tragic truth about her father, but she must be terrified that the same fate awaited her.
Despite her violence against Cordelia earlier, he believed it was possible for Finley to control her darker side. In fact, he believed that uniting the two sides of her nature was the only answer. No person was entirely good or entirely evil—one side could not exist without the other. He just had to figure out how to make Finley whole again.
He poured another cup of coffee—his third since sitting down—and rose from his desk. He wanted to research Thomas Sheppard on the Aether engine, as well, but before that he wanted to check in on Finley. He needed to go down into Emily’s laboratory and talk to her about the defective automatons—and about Sam, who was notably absent once again.
He also wanted to contact an acquaintance of his who ran in a different circle than he did. Jasper Renn was an American he’d met late last year. In fact, the cowboy had saved him from having his head coshed in by a band of ruffians intent on robbing a fancy toff. If not for Jasper, Griffin would have been forced to use his abilities in public, and that wouldn’t have been a good thing. Afterward, Griffin had brought Jasper back to the house for a drink and a little of Emily’s medical attention for his wounds. Since then, the two of them enjoyed a mutually beneficial friendship—helping each other out of trouble and occasionally attending a mech-boxing match together.
Jasper spent a lot of time in the gaming hells and clubs around Covent Garden and other east-end establishments. If there was talk about these automatons and their maker on the street, then he would know of it.
Griffin had to get to the bottom of these automaton attacks. He couldn’t ignore them just because Finley Jayne posed such an intriguing problem in such a pretty package.
And she was pretty—even when off her rocker. In that respect, she was every bit as dangerous as Aunt Cordelia seemed to think.
It was a good thing, then, that he enjoyed a little danger now and again.
“You look like a man in need of a drink.”
Sam looked up from his empty tankard. Leon, his friend with the mechanical hand, stood beside his table. “If I have another, I’m likely to fall asleep in a puddle of drool on this table.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?” Leon asked in his melodic accent—Italian, he’d said he was—as he sat down.
Sam smiled. “It’s a dirty table.”
His companion chuckled. “This is the second time I’ve found you here, my friend. You’re obviously troubled. Perhaps I can help.”
It was on the tip of Sam’s tongue to declare that an impossibility—that no one could possibly help him—but then his gaze fell upon Leon’s etched, metal hand.
“Do you ever regret that?”
Leon, who had at this point raised his other hand to signal for a waitress, glanced at the metallic appendage. “What, this? No. It’s not quite as good as the real thing, but you would be surprised at just how much I am able to do because of this marvel of modern science.”
