The Inventor's Secret (16 page)

“In a closet,” Coe answered. He reached out and turned
a doorknob. The door swung open to reveal a clockmaker’s workshop. “This is one of Lord Ott’s stores. We’re on
the Market Platform.”
Coe stepped out of the closet, and Charlotte hurried
after him, eager to get away from the compression lift. Coe
shut the closet door and gestured for Charlotte to follow
him to the workshop’s rear door.
As they walked to catch the trolley, Charlotte attempted to smooth her hair and straighten her clothes. She
was grateful for the benign movement of the cable car after
her harrowing trip up the pipe. The realization that she
was out of danger set in, and exhaustion made Charlotte’s
shoulders slump.
When the trolley stopped before the Winter mansion,
Coe offered his arm. Charlotte took it gratefully and leaned
against him as they walked up the path to the house.
The door swung open, revealing Thompson with a lantern in hand. “Mr. Coe, we’re relieved to see you home.
Word of the raid on the fair just reached us.”
“You should have retired for the night, Thompson,”
Coe told him with a kind smile. “I’m fine.”
Thompson shook his head. “There’s no rest for me until the house is at peace for the night. Your brother has
been terribly worried.”
Coe frowned at that. “Have Jack meet me in the drawing room.”
“What can I bring you, sir? A brandy?” Thompson
asked.
“I’ll serve myself,” Coe replied. “Tell Jack I’m waiting
for him and then get to bed.”
Thompson looked none too pleased at the dismissal,
but he assented. Turning to Charlotte, he said, “I’ll rouse
Mrs. Blake to draw you a bath.”
Charlotte blushed, knowing how disheveled her appearance must be.
“Now, now, Thompson,” Coe chided. “I’ve just told
you to turn in. Don’t go getting Mrs. Blake up at this hour.”
“My maid can assist me,” Charlotte offered.
“As you wish, Miss Marshall,” Thompson replied, deflated. “Good night, then.”
Thompson left them, and Coe took Charlotte through
the long dining hall into the drawing room. Charlotte was
grateful when he led her to a velvet sofa. She was so tired
she could barely hold herself upright.
“Brandy?” Coe asked, pouring himself a glass of bright
amber liquid from a crystal decanter.
“No, thank you,” Charlotte said. She wanted to see
Jack and Ash before she slept, but that was the only reason
she hadn’t yet sought her bed.
Coe came to sit close to her on the sofa. He put the
etched tumbler of brandy in her hand.
“Have a nip of this,” he urged. “It will take the edge off
your nerves. You’ve had quite an evening.”
“That’s true enough,” Charlotte agreed. She sipped the
brandy, which had a smooth fire, rich and spicy, when she
swallowed.
A light touch on Charlotte’s jaw surprised her. Coe
slipped his fingers beneath her chin, turning her face toward his.
“Are you all right?” Coe asked, his blue eyes holding
hers. “It was a lot to take in. The fair, Lord Ott, Linnet.”
Charlotte stiffened. Coe’s touch was gentle, but his face
was so close to hers. Too close for someone she’d just met.
Yet she found herself leaning toward him.
“I’m fine,” she said. Coe’s thumb stroked along her jaw,
making her shiver. He wasn’t Jack, and Charlotte didn’t
understand why Coe had such a similar effect on her. What
it only because they were brothers? Was there something in
the Winter boys’ blood that Charlotte found irresistible?
She was about to pull away when she heard someone enter
the room.
“Charlotte!” Ash came through the door. “By Athene’s
mercy, you’re safe.”
“Yes,” Charlotte replied, she would have said more, but
then she saw Jack standing at the drawing room door.
Jack was staring at Charlotte and Coe, and Charlotte
realized that while Coe was no longer touching her face, he
had taken her hand and now held it on his thigh. The color
began to drain from Jack’s face.
“Why is she wearing your coat?” Jack asked his brother.
He should have asked me,
Charlotte thought, and answered before Coe could. “We were set upon by brigands
in the Iron Forest. My dress was torn.”
Charlotte withdrew her hand from Coe’s grasp and
rose, going to Ash and embracing him.
Ash held her tight. “I was so afraid for you,” he whispered. “Were you hurt?”
“No,” Charlotte said, hugging him. “And all is well
now.”
“Mostly well,” Ash told her when he let go. “Meg returned with us, but Grave is still missing.”
“Not for long.” Coe rose from the sofa and joined them.
Jack stood stiffly at the door. Coe smiled at his brother.
“Linnet’s gone to fetch him.”
Jack’s already bleak expression became even more
strained. “Linnet?” He glanced at Charlotte. “She’s seen
Linnet?”
“Of course Charlotte has seen Linnet,” Coe replied.
“Our sister retrieves all the pirate’s lost treasures. You
know that.”
Jack didn’t reply, but his face had taken on a gray pallor.
Ash looked at Coe. “Do you really think she’ll find
Grave?”
“I do.” Coe smiled. “Ott controls a larger network of
informants than the Imperial Espionage Bureau can boast.
And Linnet is Ott’s right hand. She’ll find your runaway
and have him back here soon enough.”
“Linnet is coming here?” Jack stormed across the room,
giving Coe a hard shove that made Charlotte gasp. “Do
you care about our mother at all?”
“Mother will never know Linnet was here,” Coe said,
changing his earlier tune to echo Lord Ott’s assurances.
“Linnet isn’t sloppy enough to let our mother see her. You
know that.”
Jack glared at his brother, but remained silent.
Ash gently took Charlotte’s arm. “You should sleep.”
“We all should,” Coe agreed. “There’s nothing more to
be done tonight.”
Coe raised his tumbler and knocked back the brandy in
one swallow. “I wish you a good rest.”
Offering Charlotte a quick bow, Coe left the room. Ash
still held Charlotte by the elbow, and she walked beside
him from the drawing room. When they reached the door,
Jack called out, “Charlotte, could I have a moment?”
Ash frowned at him. “She should rest, Jack. What’s the
matter?”
“I’ll see her upstairs shortly, Ash,” Jack said as he
crossed the room. “You have my word.”
Ash glanced from Jack to Charlotte, his brow knit together. “I don’t—”
“Please, Ashley,” Jack said quietly.
“Very well,” Ash replied, though he was clearly taken
aback. Leaning in to kiss Charlotte’s cheek, Ash said,
“Good night, Lottie.”
“Good night.” She gave Ash a tired smile, but her heart
was pattering against her ribs.
When Ash left them, Jack took Charlotte’s hands in
his, and Charlotte was suddenly very awake. He reached
up and unbuttoned the brass fastenings of Coe’s coat.
“What are you doing?” Charlotte pushed his fingers
away when he sought to bare her shoulder.
“I don’t trust that you’re not injured,” Jack said. “Let
me see.”
“I’m not,” Charlotte told him. “What gives you the
right to inspect me?”
“My concern for your well-being.” His voice was so
gentle that Charlotte relented and allowed him to open the
coat.
It took only a glimpse of Charlotte’s naked, unmarred
flesh for Jack to clear his throat and avert his gaze. He kept
his other hand linked with hers.
“I told you.” Charlotte said as heat crept into her cheeks.
“Are you sure you’re all right otherwise?” Jack asked.
“After the attack? I know how unsavory the Iron Forest
brigands are.”
Charlotte nodded. His fingers were strong and warm as
they clasped hers.
Jack averted his gaze. “Linnet—”
“Seems very brave and very capable,” Charlotte finished for him. He looked up at her in surprise. And Charlotte surprised herself by adding, “I liked her,” and she
knew it was true.
Her words didn’t seem to make Jack happy, but he nodded. “I’m just relieved no harm came to you.”
Charlotte laughed quietly. “So am I.”
Her laughter brought a smile to his lips that made
Charlotte’s breath quicken.
“Shall I take you upstairs?” Jack asked. Something
about the question sent warmth pooling into Charlotte’s
belly.
“Please,” she whispered.
Jack kept her hand in his as he escorted her up the grand
staircase. They stopped at her bedroom door, shrouded in
darkness.
“Charlotte,” Jack murmured.
She could barely make out his face, but she felt his hand
against her cheek. Without thinking, Charlotte leaned her
cheek into his palm, turning her face so her lips brushed
the heel of his hand. She heard Jack stifle a groan.
Charlotte quickly straightened, shocked by her own
behavior. What had she done? Was she so wanton as this?
She’d practically swooned into Coe’s arms earlier that
night, and now she was playing the seductress with Jack.
“I should say good night.” Charlotte’s voice cracked.
But the weight of Jack’s hands rested on her waist, then
moved to her lower back, drawing her forward. The silk of
her gown rustled when her body pressed against his.
“Jack.” Coe’s voice was like the crack of a whip.
Jack swore. “Hang it all, Coe. What do you think
you’re doing?”
Charlotte couldn’t see Coe through the darkness, but
she heard his footsteps as he came down the hall.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Coe said to Jack. “It’s
time to bid Miss Marshall good night.”
“Mind your own business,” Jack snarled.
Rattled by Coe’s appearance, Charlotte pulled out of
Jack’s embrace.
“Charlotte, don’t.” Jack clasped her hand.
“Let her go, Jack,” Coe said.
Jack squeezed Charlotte’s fingers, but with reluctance
said, “Good night, Charlotte. I’ll see you in the morning.”
All Charlotte could do was murmur, “Good night,
Jack.”
Coe stood like a sentinel while Jack stomped down the
hall. Charlotte opened her door.
“Good night, Commodore Winter,” she said quietly.
Her mind was a jumble of shock and disappointment.
“Charlotte.” Coe’s voice made her look over her shoulder. “What exactly has my brother told you about his life
before he came to the Catacombs?”
“Very little,” Charlotte answered.
Almost nothing at
all.
She didn’t voice that thought, given how palpable the
tension was between the two brothers. And Charlotte
didn’t know what the source of that conflict was.
As if to himself, Coe said, “That’s what I thought.”
Then added, “Sleep well, Charlotte.”
Coe retreated into the shadows, and Charlotte closed
the door.

HEN LINNET HAD not returned
Grave to them by lunch the next day,
Charlotte worried her way through the
opulence of the Winter mansion.

“Don’t fret,” Coe assured her. “Linnet knows what she’s doing. I’d be shocked if she hasn’t
already found the boy, but she’ll be careful to find a way to
bring him here without drawing notice. That means it may
take a bit longer.”

Jack had been absent from breakfast and lunch, but
Coe offered no explanation. When Charlotte asked Ash
about Jack’s whereabouts, her brother dismissed her query
with a shake of his head.

Charlotte’s other worry had been the chance of another
uncomfortable exchange with Lady Winter, especially
when she learned they would spend the day confined to
the mansion, but Jack and Coe’s mother seemed to split
her time between her rooms and the garden. The lady of
the manor never joined them in the dining hall, drawing
room, or parlor.

Whiling away hour after hour with Meg and Ash—like
his brother, Coe had excused himself to see about his affairs at the Military Platform—Charlotte’s sympathy for
Lady Winter increased tenfold. The house was huge and
lonely. For all its elegance, the high ceilings and sweeping
rooms soon grew oppressive—and unlike Lady Winter,
Charlotte had company.

“Gah! This is intolerable.” Ash stood up as afternoon
faded to dusk. “I’ll go out of my mind if I have to sit here
another hour.”

“Hush, Ashley,” Meg said. Of their trio, Meg had remained the most serene that day. She hadn’t spoken of
her mother, at least not when Charlotte was present, and
Charlotte was surprised Meg could be so calm just hours
after that strange reunion.

“What exactly are we waiting for?” Charlotte asked.
“Grave’s return? Or something else?”
“Jack went out to arrange a meeting for tonight,” Ash
admitted.
“With whom?” Charlotte frowned.
Ash picked up a kaleidoscope that served as a table decoration and held it up to his eye. “Lord Ott and some key
figures of the rebellion from within the Empire.”
Ash turned the kaleidoscope, but Charlotte saw through
his overly casual posture. “Including Lazarus?” she asked.
“The meeting was supposed to take place last night.”
Ash put the kaleidoscope down with a sigh.
“At the fair,” Charlotte concluded.
“Jack is worried that Lazarus will go into hiding for
now. Last night came too close to exposing him. I don’t
know if he’ll be there tonight,” Ash said.
“But I thought Lord Ott and his associates knew about
the raid,” Charlotte said. “Wouldn’t this Lazarus have
known as well?”
“Our friends in the city learned of the raid only an hour
before it took place. Most of the meeting’s attendees had
already arrived at the fair, including Lazarus. He and the
others had to flee to avoid capture,” Ash told her.
“Like us.” Charlotte remembered too well the onslaught of the hooded enforcers and the Rotpots.
Ash nodded. “Coe was on his way to warn us about the
raid, but you and Grave ran off before he reached us.”
“Grave ran off,” Charlotte corrected him. “I chased after him.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Meg interjected, pouring a cup of
tea from the service Mrs. Blake had provided. “I needed to
speak with my mother, and I think her advice about Grave
is sound.”
Ash looked at her with a frown. “We may not have time
to visit Athene’s temple.”
“We have to make time,” Meg insisted. “Grave is important. I can feel it in my bones.”
Ash seemed skeptical, but Charlotte remembered what
Jedda had told her daughter:
And you claimed to have
none of my gift.
Since they’d returned to the House of Winter, Meg had
withdrawn into herself, contemplative but peaceful. Charlotte wondered if Meg was likewise considering her mother’s words.
A polite cough sounded at the door to the parlor.
“I’m informed that you’ll be dining at the house this
evening,” Thompson told them. “Dinner will be served in
an hour.”
Charlotte sighed. “I suppose that means I should dress
for the meal.”
“I’ll help you change.” Meg rose, and the two women
retired to Charlotte’s bedroom.
While Charlotte brushed out her long hair, Meg opened
the wardrobe. “Is there a color you’d prefer for tonight?”
“No.” Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to care what
color her gown was. There were so many gowns. All exquisite, but all reminders of the fiction Charlotte lived
while in the city.
“The amethyst is quite lovely—” Meg dropped the
gown she’d just pulled from the wardrobe when Jack burst
through the door.
“Charlotte, I have to speak with you.” He was gasping
for breath, as if he’d sprinted all the way to her room. His
coat was unbuttoned, and his shirt collar was loose at his
neck.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked. “Is it Grave?”
Jack shook his head and threw a pleading glance at
Meg. Meg gave Jack a long look and then left the room
without a word, shutting the door firmly behind her.
“Jack, please tell me what’s happened.” Charlotte was
so frightened she could hardly breathe.
Closing the distance between them, Jack said, “I’m so
sorry, Charlotte. I don’t know what else to do.”
Charlotte took a step back. The wildness in his voice
made her even more fearful.
“I have to do this,” Jack told her. “Just this once before
tonight. I have to know for sure.”
“What exactly is happening tonight?” Charlotte asked,
thinking of the meeting Jack had arranged. Was there a
danger Ash hadn’t spoken of?
Jack didn’t answer; there was a fever in his eyes. He
grasped her upper arms and jerked her toward him. His
mouth came down suddenly, hard on hers. The kiss felt
desperate and verged on painful, but Charlotte’s eyes
closed as the sensation took her under. She was so deep
in the kiss she thought she might drown. She didn’t care,
feeling only how tightly Jack gripped her skin. How much
he wanted her.
Breaking the kiss, Jack leaned his forehead against
Charlotte’s. They were both breathing hard, but her
thoughts were only of how much she needed Jack’s lips to
be on hers again.
“Do you love me?” Jack’s eyes were closed, and his
brow furrowed as though he was in pain.
“Wh-what?” Charlotte stammered, reeling from the
question.
“Tell me the truth, Charlotte.” Jack was looking at her
now. “Do you love me?”
Charlotte reached up to touch his face. Her pulse was
drumming so loudly she barely heard herself say, “Yes.”
That single word answered many questions that had
been nipping at the edges of Charlotte’s conscience. Yes.
Yes, she loved Jack. That was the only sensible explanation
for why she’d been so instantly drawn to Coe. All those
pent-up emotions were spilling over, muddying the waters
of attraction, and confusing her. That must have been it.
Jack bent to kiss her again. This time his mouth was
gentle, seeking rather than demanding. Charlotte slipped
one arm around his neck, the other she rested at his waist.
Her skin heated as Jack kissed her. She opened her mouth
to taste his tongue. Then his hand was in her hair, his other
hand pressed between her shoulder blades, and his lips
were brushing her cheek, her jawline, her neck.
Charlotte slipped her hand beneath Jack’s coat and
pulled his shirt free of his trousers. Wanting to know if
his skin burned like hers, Charlotte pressed her fingers
against his lower back, feeling as his muscles flexed under
her touch.
Jack’s kisses edged toward her bodice, and Charlotte
gasped as sweat beaded on the back of her neck. She moved
her hand beneath Jack’s shirt from his back to his stomach,
her touch tracing the ridges of his abdomen. With a groan,
Jack straightened and pulled Charlotte’s roaming hands
away from his skin.
“Don’t.” Charlotte’s voice was low and thick. “Don’t
stop.”
“I have to,” Jack said through gritted teeth. “I won’t
dishonor you.”
“I don’t care,” Charlotte exclaimed, though she wasn’t
entirely sure that was true. The fire in her blood had burned
away her sense for the moment.
Jack cupped her face in his hands. “I’ll do this the right
way. Tomorrow I’ll speak with Ash. We’ll sort everything
out.”
Charlotte stared at him, numb with shock. Speak with
Ash? Did Jack mean to ask for her hand? To marry her?
When exactly did he expect all of this to happen?
Not that she was altogether opposed to that idea, but
it was so sudden and unexpected. The ground was solid
beneath Charlotte’s feet, but the room around her seemed
to be spinning.
Placing a soft kiss on her mouth, Jack said, “I have to
leave you. But you have my word, we’ll speak of this again
in the morning.”
Charlotte nodded.
Jack kissed her again and murmured into her ear, “I
didn’t know I could want anything so much as I want you,
Charlotte.”
His words made her shiver, despite the sheen of sweat
that covered her skin, for she knew her feelings mirrored
his in intensity. She found that awareness frightening. It
was much easier to fight with Jack than to want him like
this.
When Jack left, Charlotte stripped out of her gown so
her skin would cool. Clad only in her chemise, she walked
unsteadily to the bed and lay down. As her shock receded,
giddiness spilled through her limbs. She smiled like a fool
at the ceiling. She loved Jack.
Athene’s mercy, what will Ash say?
Charlotte laughed aloud. She rolled over and hugged
a pillow to her chest. Her body felt supple and finer than
silk.
When someone knocked at the door, Charlotte sat up.
“Come in!”
Charlotte assumed that the knocker would be Meg returning, but hoped it would be Jack throwing reason to the
wind and returning to seek her bed, so when Coe stepped
into her room, Charlotte shrieked. She dragged the coverlet up to her neck.
Coe quickly pivoted around, giving her his back. “I’m
sorry, Charlotte. You did say to come in.”
“I thought you were Meg!” Charlotte squirmed beneath
the sheets, wrapping herself up like a mummy.
“Are you decent now?” Coe asked.
“Aren’t you leaving?” Charlotte replied. Why on earth
would he stay when she was half dressed?
Coe glanced over his shoulder, and seeing Charlotte
wrapped in bedclothes, he relaxed.
“I’m afraid I have an urgent matter that we must attend
to.”
“We?” Charlotte frowned at him. That was when she
noticed Coe was carrying a gown. Charlotte had never
seen a dress so beautiful. Its burgundy silks would have
outshone the finest wines. A whisper of black lace edged
the gown’s neckline and hem.
Coe approached Charlotte and laid the gown along the
foot of her bed. “My mother wore this dress at her debut. It
seems appropriate that you would wear it tonight.”
Nerves pricked at Charlotte. “But I thought the Governor’s Ball was at the end of the week?”
“It is, but there’s been a change of plans,” Coe replied.
“We decided it would be appropriate for you to make an
appearance for the military ball that’s being held tonight.
It, too, takes place at the Governor’s Palace, but it’s a
smaller event, something of a preview for the grand gathering to follow in a few days. Since you’re being sponsored
by House Winter, your absence might be conspicuous. I
apologize for the short notice, but you’ll have to hurry. Put
on the gown and meet me at the front gate as soon as you
can.”
“Are Ash and Meg joining us?” Charlotte frowned at
Coe, though she reached a hand out to stroke the extraordinary fabric of the gown.
“Servants don’t attend balls,” Coe answered. “I’ll escort you.”
Charlotte looked at him, hesitating. “What about
Jack?”
“Jack has a prior commitment,” Coe told Charlotte.
“But I’m sure you’ll see him later tonight.”
After the meeting he and Ash have with the Resistance,
Charlotte thought. She didn’t like the idea of attending
some society event while her brother and Jack were risking
exposure at a gathering of rebels. But if as Coe said the
night’s plans had changed, and this was part of the new
plan, then Charlotte had no reason to object.
“I’ll dress as quickly as I can,” Charlotte said.
“Good.” Coe’s smile was rather grim. “I’ll await you
outside.”
To Charlotte’s surprise and frustration, Meg didn’t return to help her into the evening gown. After a bit of a
struggle, Charlotte managed to reach all the buttons and
fastenings of the dress. She even styled her hair in an artful
twist embellished with a comb of silver and seed pearls.
Charlotte found the house quiet when she exited her
room. As promised, Coe was waiting at the iron gate, but
he wasn’t waiting alone.
A driver and footman stood beside a carriage of blond
wood and brass fittings. Harnessed to the front of the carriage was a horse built entirely of metal that Charlotte
thought looked more like a trussed-up skeleton than a tinker’s mechanical wonder.
“You look beautiful,” Coe said, helping Charlotte into
the coach.
Charlotte murmured her thanks, but felt uneasy as her
senses stirred from Coe’s light touch. She loved Jack. She
wanted Jack. Charlotte was certain of that. She toyed with
the buttons of her gloves as the gears of the horse began to
click and whir.
“What do we have to do at this ball?” Charlotte asked
Coe.
He laughed. “Most ladies show a bit more enthusiasm
about attending a ball.”
“I’ve never been to such an event,” Charlotte said. “I
don’t know what’s expected.”
“You will be expected to smile and look pretty,” Coe
replied. “You will curtsey and nod when you are introduced to the lords and ladies of New York.”
Charlotte turned to face him. “Is that all? I don’t have
to give a speech or anything like that?”
Coe waved off her horrified expression. “Please remember when I say this that it’s the sentiment of others, not my
own: women in the Floating City are meant to be looked
upon, not listened to.”
Charlotte wanted to curse at that stupidity, but she
checked herself, and all that came out was a pathetic,
strangled cry. It made sense that Charlotte would attend a
military ball because of her connection to House Winter,
but why wasn’t Jack escorting her? Hadn’t he claimed that
role as his when they concocted this plan?
Leaning back against the carriage seat, Charlotte
wished Ash or Meg were there to offer her some comfort.
“It won’t be so awful, Charlotte,” Coe said, taking her
hand. “We can dance as much as you like. The whole night
if it pleases you.”
Charlotte forced herself to smile at Coe. It wasn’t his
fault she was here. “Perhaps.”
That seemed to satisfy him and they passed the rest of
the trip in a not terribly awkward silence and Charlotte
tried not to think about how pleasant it was to have Coe’s
strong hand covering hers.

HE GOVERNOR’S PALACE had been
erected at the highest point of the Floating
City—its height and girth commandeering
an entire platform. Towering over the rest
of New York, the building left no doubt as