The Golden Spider (The Elemental Web Chronicles Book 1) (29 page)

Read The Golden Spider (The Elemental Web Chronicles Book 1) Online

Authors: Anne Renwick

Tags: #British nobility, #spies, #college university relationships, #biotechnology espionage, #steampunk mystery romance, #19th century historical, #Victorian London

BOOK: The Golden Spider (The Elemental Web Chronicles Book 1)
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With a sigh, he opened it, expecting the usual weekly exhortation to attend one event or another. But no, now she was arranging her own social events in hopes of forcing his presence. The countess informed him that he was expected at her upcoming house party in the country, that several young ladies were eager to make his acquaintance.

Wonderful how his own mother found him such a poor prospect that his marriage must be arranged. Alas, he’d only encouraged her by agreeing to the arrangement with Lady Anne. Now, it seemed, Mother had a mission.

“Was that the last of them?” Lady Huntley asked, strolling into his office.

“One can only hope.”

“What’s this?” Spying his mother’s handwriting, she snatched the missive from his hand and backed away out of arm’s reach.

He let her read it. She always did. Besides, his leg pained him too much to rise. “Left your manners at home this morning?” he grumbled.

“As did you. Besides, as your assistant, I am merely staying abreast of your affairs.”

“More likely you view my mother’s efforts as the weekly installation of a two-penny theater.”

“Well,” she said. “There is that. It’s amusing to picture you with a quiet, pedigreed wife who will sit quietly, minding hearth and home.”

“One who won’t question my long hours in the…‌ laboratory?” He almost said field. Though it was becoming increasingly difficult, even for him, to envision such a future.

“You could always pre-empt her. Perhaps Lady Amanda would be amenable to filling the position? No necessary white lies.” Lady Huntley tipped her head, giving him a knowing look. “All of England does expect you to produce an heir. Producing one might be more interesting with a woman such as her by your side.”

“Interesting, yes, but a damn sight more complicated. She is my student. Romantic entanglement is forbidden. And children are nothing but additional complications.” His voice mocked, but his mind flashed an image of a small daughter, one with Amanda’s features. He pushed the thought aside.

Lady Huntley glanced away, her response barely audible. “Entanglements and complications. I wanted them very much.”

Immediately, he regretted his words.

John
.

But there was no changing the past, only the future. To do that the eye doctor had to be stopped. He cleared his throat. “Lady Amanda, she is working in the laboratory?”

Lady Huntley nodded. “At this very moment. Henri confirmed for me that the device is close to completion, requiring only a few more adjustments before it will be ready for rat trials.” She paused. “Excepting, of course, the lack of an appropriate nerve agent. Is there any news on that front?”

He nodded. “The plant has been located. Lord Thistleton has been provided with a description and the location. He assures me it will soon flourish under his care.”

“It still grows?” Her eyebrows rose.

“And blooms.”

“Where did you manage to find this plant?” she asked.

“Growing alongside a factory chimney. Thank you, by the way, for suggesting to Lady Amanda that she ask her sister to provide a sketch.”

“Of course, having dragged Lady Amanda out into the dark of night‌—‌this time unchaperoned‌—‌to find said plant,” Black spoke from the doorway, “there will be unintended consequences. The Duke of Avesbury, who is capable of bestowing great power and funds upon your laboratory, requests your presence this evening.” He cocked an eyebrow at Lady Huntley. “Care to wager? Pistols at dawn or the calling of banns?”

“You’re late to that discussion,” Lady Huntley said, then flicked a glance at Thornton. “Special license,” she predicted.

Black laughed.

Thornton was not amused. “Enough,” he said. “What brings you here, Black? Good news?”

The man’s face sobered, and he let out a long sigh. “Alas, it never is. Lady Huntley, I have the unwelcome task of posing a question to you concerning your former husband.”

Lady Huntley frowned. “Ask away.”

“Were you aware that Lord Huntley booked passage for two aboard the
Ada Reeve
?”

Thornton’s brow furrowed. He and John had traveled aboard that airship en route to Belgium, but they’d each made separate travel arrangements. That meant…‌

“Yes. I was to accompany him, but an unexpected complication forced me to remain at home.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to need more specifics,” Black said.

Lady Huntley turned her face away, but not before Thornton caught the stricken look on her face and the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. “I miscarried. I lost quite a lot of blood.”

The two men shared a look of absolute horror.

“I insisted upon remaining at home, to recover.” She swallowed. “John tried to convince me to come; he outright begged. But I was adamant. Now, in retrospect…‌”

“You think he meant to take you with him, across the border into Germany,” Thornton finished.

She nodded, her back stiff. “Is that all, Black?”

“Concerning your husband, yes. I’m afraid there’s also bad news. There’s another body.”

“Gypsy?” she asked, turning.

Black shook his head. “Tony Spinolli, Lady Amanda’s brother’s therapist. Perhaps you could fetch Lady Amanda from Henri’s side, Lady Huntley? We’ll have need of her expertise.”

“Right away,” she said, departing.

Thornton opened his mouth, but Black held up a hand, listening keenly as the enormous gears on the iron door turned. Only when it clanged shut, did he speak. “You believe her?”

“You suspect she knew John was up to something?” Thornton countered.

Black shrugged. “My job is to tie off loose ends.”

He thought back, trying to recall the days and weeks leading up to their ill-fated voyage. “I noticed nothing amiss, but Lady Huntley had yet to work in my laboratory. John seemed happy enough. Giddy, like most newlyweds. I suppose impending parenthood might have made him happier than usual, though, given his plans to sell our device to the enemy, I would have expected signs of stress.” He paused. “John never mentioned that his wife would be joining us, though he did seem somewhat gloomy as we boarded the airship. At the time, I attributed it to leaving behind his bride. Now…‌”

“Perhaps his conscience was bothering him on multiple fronts.”

“Perhaps,” Thornton agreed. He hoped John had lain awake at night those three long days in the sky. “Bastard. Abandoning his wife like that.”

“Agreed,” Black said.

A few minutes later, Lady Huntley returned with Amanda.

“What has happened?” she asked.

Aside from her seeming inability to meet his eyes, she appeared as always. Beautiful. Composed. Professional. Perfectly well rested.

Then again, he’d left her well sated. A satisfied smile tugged at his lips.

“You may wish to sit, Lady Amanda,” Black said, waving his hand at the empty chair before Thornton’s desk. “I’m afraid I have upsetting news.”

She stiffened. “I’ll stand.”

“After your brother admitted to his involvement in our case, agents were alerted,” Black said. “We’ve found Tony Spinolli. I’m afraid his body spent some time in the Thames before being washed ashore by the tides.”

Amanda paled. “I believe I will sit after all.” She lowered herself gingerly into the chair.

It was always harder when the individual was a personal acquaintance. Or a close friend turned traitor. “Was he altered?” Thornton asked.

“It appears, on the surface, to be another unsuccessful attempt,” Black said. “The body is badly damaged.” That anybody survived the kraken swarms was a miracle, making the Thames a favored dumping ground of murderers. “And bloated. Its smell is…‌ indescribable…‌”

“It doesn’t matter,” Amanda said, but he detected a slight wrinkling of her nose. “We’ll need to examine him.”

“Let’s go,” he said, reaching for his cane.

“If you don’t mind,” Lady Huntley said, “I’ll read the report this time.”

“As will I,” Black echoed.

“Cowards,” Thornton teased. Though he was relieved to part with them at the iron door, leaving him to accompany Amanda alone into the bowels of the building. “Amanda,” he began, placing a hand at the small of her back.

She sidled away. “Not here,” she hissed. “Anyone might be about.”

“Very well. But soon.” They would need to speak. He’d meant what he said about not wanting a wife. He wanted her, but only if she could accept that their relationship would need to remain a secret.

For now.

Perhaps in the future…‌ He pushed the thought away. First he would need to speak to her father about Sommersby, about preventing that alliance from occurring.

They traveled to the autopsy suite in silence.

Amanda stepped into the room and gagged. “Dear God.” She pressed a hand to her mouth and nose.

The stench of decay was overpowering and of such strength he feared it would set into their clothing, their hair, their very pores.

“This will require an hour’s soak in a sodium bicarbonate bath to remove the smell,” she gasped.

“At least.” Thornton grabbed two OptiAir masks from their hooks, handing one to Amanda and pulling the other over his face. Only then could he enjoy the image that sprang to mind of her reclining in a tub, steam rising above her damp shoulders, wet tendrils of hair dangling about her face and neck.

He steeled himself to focus on the task at hand.

The India rubber seal prevented conversation, and so they worked quietly and efficiently, taking samples and thoroughly examining the man’s wounds‌—‌what the fish and kraken had left for them to examine‌—‌using hand signals.

Cause of death was not in question. The poor man’s abdomen had been slit from stem to stern. Surgery in the eye socket had been attempted, but without a working nerve agent, failure had been unavoidable.

Still, there were multiple insertions of gold thread into the brainstem. But
this
neurachnid had not been able to negotiate the superior orbital fissure in a manner that would allow it to reach the appropriate ganglia clusters.

Time, however, worked against them. The longer it took to locate this mad scientist, this mad spy, the more likely it was that the eye doctor’s independent modifications would succeed.

At last they slid the body into the refrigeration unit and retreated into the ascension chamber, pulling the rubber masks from their sweaty faces as the door slid shut.

Amanda fell backward against the wall, eyes closed, hair tossed and tumbled. “There is no evidence he has employed milligears, but there is every indication he has made other alterations to improve the stolen neurachnid. If he’s not stopped, he may very well successfully refine my device.”

Thornton didn’t want to discuss the spider, not during one of the few moments they might have alone. He could fight temptation no longer. With two steps, he had her in his arms, his lips on hers, his body pressing her tightly against the chamber’s walls.

Her lips parted, welcoming him in, her tongue tangling hungrily with his, her arms wrapping about his waist, pulling him closer.

The distance the chamber traveled was all too short. It took every last ounce of his willpower to pull away, to reach the control panel before the doors slid open once more.

He reached the lever just in time, flipping it to “stop”. They had mere moments before a disabled chamber would be noticed.

She stood there, face flushed, lips swollen, eyes wide.

“Ever since last night, I’ve not been able to think of anything but you, Amanda. I can’t make you any promises, but if you’ll have me…‌” He waited.

“Any way I can,” she answered. Her cheeks burned an enticing crimson as she fought to speak past a measure of maidenly modesty. “But not here. Not in the school buildings.”

“Not here,” he agreed. A sense of triumph was quickly blunted by intense impatience. “Where?”

Her eyes dropped, and her voice fell to the merest whisper, fighting her embarrassment. “My laboratory. Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I
T TOOK AMANDA OVER
an hour in the bathtub‌—‌washing her hair twice, scrubbing every inch of skin‌—‌to finally drive every last trace of stench from her pores. The gardenia-scented lotion was mere precaution.

“What happened to your feet?” Olivia gasped.

Her sister had burst into Amanda’s room, catching her applying salve to her feet. Amanda smiled to herself, holding the memory of last night’s adventure close.

With no time to lose, Thornton had scooped their boots from the floor‌—‌and snagged a woolen coat from a peg to wrap her in‌—‌as they ran barefoot from the building out into a driving rain that had turned the road to mud. Mud studded with foot-piercing gravel.

“They’ll be fine,” she said simply, rolling soft stockings over her feet to hide the damage from Olivia’s incredulous eyes. If her sister but knew what Amanda planned for
this
night. A flush rose to her cheeks. “What brings you to my door?”

“This.” Olivia reached out and deposited a Babbage card on the table beside her. “You owe me much for those hours spent with an anatomy text. It was torture.” She frowned. “Are you certain this is a good idea? I’ve only ever programmed steambots to do things
for
humans, not
to
them.”

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