Kiss of Steel (10 page)

“Thank you, sir,” she said again, and swept out into the hallway to fetch her hat and reticule.

***

It took less time than she’d anticipated for the shock to wear off. The cold, bleak wind went right through her as she stepped outside clutching her letter of reference in her hand. It threatened to tear her hat from her head and dried the tears on her cheeks. She couldn’t afford to cry, and there was no point really. Crying accomplished nothing.

It was only in the heart of night that she couldn’t help herself.

Smoke hung over the chimneys of London. Somewhere behind the clouds the sun battled valiantly. The street stretched seemingly forever, a uniform parade of gray row houses lining its edges. It was still early afternoon. Pedicabs and steam carts lined the way, with a couple of pedestrians staring up at her curiously as she hovered on the doorstep.

Honoria took a step down. Then another. Macy’s door had shielded her from the worst of the wind, but now it swept around her, traveling right through her threadbare stockings and the lightweight mauve cape that she wore. She hovered on the footpath, uncertain what to do. Go home? Charlie would be waiting. At least she could look after him now, without constantly worrying about leaving him home alone. Or should she start looking for a job?

She looked down at the envelope.

Whatever job she lied her way into, it would never be enough. Macy’s hadn’t been enough. Charlie needed good food, medications to slow down the rate of the craving virus, and a doctor who wouldn’t ask questions or inform the Echelon about his condition. She’d been running herself into the ground, trying to pretend that she could provide him with what he needed when she knew she couldn’t. Mr. Macy had only forced her eyes open.

She needed money. A lot of it. And there were only two things left to sell that had any value.

The mercenary little part of her brain that had seen Blade flipping gold sovereigns and shillings around with equal abandon knew exactly where she could get money from. She cringed away from the thought. Once she started down that path, there was no turning back. And a small part of her, the part that was still a young, naïve girl daydreaming about a white knight come to take her away didn’t want to do that. Blade had been kind to her, and even though she knew he had ulterior motives in courting her as he had, she still couldn’t stop herself from wishing.

Honoria took a step, then another. Toward the city. Her body knew where it was going, even as her mind resisted. There was one last option left to try. A dangerous, terrifying option that could see her in the depths of the Echelon’s notorious dungeons before the end of day, but she had to try.

If she failed…Well, then she could bury her soul and take what was left of her pride to Blade and beg him to take her in as his kept woman.

***

The enormous metal eagle glared back at her, its wings outspread atop the hollow glass sphere that guarded the gates. A small electric orb pulsed in the heart of the globe, with the occasional spark of blue lightning shooting out, licking at the interior of the glass.

Honoria eyed the spark, her palms sweating inside her threadbare lace gloves. Pushing her identity card into the slot by the gate, she waited with bated breath as the metal teeth crunched down through the slots in the card. The stored lightning flickered but didn’t lash out. Letting out her breath, she slipped inside the garden.

Before Vickers, her father had been sponsored by the duke of Caine. She’d grown up in this house and knew it almost as well as Caine did.

The servants’ quarters were around the back. Honoria eased her way through the lush, overgrown gardens, keeping an ear out for the servant drones and any wandering thralls. The gardens were eerily familiar but not quite as large as she remembered. When she was a child they’d seemed endless, full of paths where she and Lena could chase each other along and thick with foliage in which to hide. She found the back door into the kitchen and eased it open. The room was empty, of course. Nobody to feed except the thralls, and the last time she’d heard, Leo kept only three.

Caine House had barely changed. That was one of the problems with being so long-lived. The blue bloods tended to stagnate after so many years, both at home and in their running of the country. It had been forty years since the prince consort took control, and since he’d first imposed his stifling rules, very little differed. The city walls kept the Echelon in and the poor out. Everybody had their place, and that was to serve.

Of course, such rule hadn’t worked so well in France. With the majority of the French aristocracy infected with the virus, they’d thought themselves invulnerable. It wasn’t until most of them were guillotined in the revolution that the English blue bloods sat up and took note. Humans were little more than thralls, but they could still be dangerous.

The prince consort was clever enough to know this. Officially his lovely young wife, Queen Alexandra, was in command, but everyone knew who pulled her strings. The people loved their queen, so the prince consort paraded her through the streets and held court from the balcony of the palace. He doted on her in public and played the handsome blue blood lover. If the queen’s eyes wore a glassy look and her skin was a trifle too pale, then most of the commoners thought it was purely the height of fashion.

And then, of course, there was the metaljacket legion, in case things turned nasty.

Honoria found her way through the lower floors, fingers trailing over the fine white Chinese wallpaper that decorated the walls. The floors were ivory marble with a Turkish-red runner down the center. Several times she heard the low, distinct hum of a drone and ducked into one of the spare rooms to hide. The automated servants might not be programmed to deal with intruders, but they would certainly alert someone who could.

Honoria slipped into the servants’ hidden warren of corridors and found her way to the third floor. There were voices in the library. Avoiding all of the creaking floorboards, she made her way to the main bedroom.

The massive four-posted bed dominated the room with heavy red velvet curtains tied to the posts. Late afternoon sunlight cast shining squares across the red carpets.

The pistol was heavy in her reticule as she dug it out. No need to take chances. Her father had said that if she ever needed help, she could come here, but the Leo Barrons she knew—the young boy who had put frogs down her dress and tricked her into touching one of the globes of stored lightning—wasn’t the same as a man. He was one of
them
now.

The door opened.

“What the
hell
are you doing here?” Leo hissed. He slammed the door and took a menacing half step toward her.

Honoria held up the pistol and clicked the hammer back. “Stay where you are.”

Leo froze. An inscrutable expression came over his face. She took the chance to examine him. He’d always been fair as a boy, but his silky moonbeam hair had darkened to an antique gold. He wore a crisp black velvet jacket with puffed sleeves, a loose white shirt, and a pair of tight leather trousers. Rings glittered on his fingers, and there was a flash of gold at his ear with a ruby dangling from the loop.

“You’ve changed,” she said. His skin looked paler, almost…silvery?

He eyed the pistol then gave a fluid shrug. “It happens.” Crossing the floor with catlike grace, he circled toward the liquor cabinet on the tallboy. “Care for a drink?” A sidelong look through silky lashes. He waved the bottle at her, the ruby-colored blood swirling around inside.

“Thank you, no.”

Leo splashed a dash of blood into the glass. Though it shared the same color as claret, it was denser, lacking the gleam of liquor. No doubt it was bought directly from the draining factories down near Whitechapel. She eyed it with distaste. Did he know how many people sold their lives for what he drank so carelessly? Would he even care?

“Half of London’s hunting for you.” His eyes locked on her, black as night.

“I was careful.”

“Are you going to shoot me?” He arched a brow. “No? Then put it away.”

Honoria stared through the sight. The gun muzzle came into sharp focus, with Leo muting into a blur of black behind it. He moved and she looked up just as he clamped a hand over the pistol.

“Put it down, Honoria. Before somebody gets hurt.” This time there was none of his boyish nonchalance.

Her jaw tightened.

“If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have bothered coming all the way upstairs.” He held both hands in the air. “I’d have simply sent Vickers up.”

“
Vickers?
” She lowered the pistol in shock. “Vickers is here?”

“In the library.” Leo’s mouth twisted. “You’re damned lucky he didn’t realize it was you, with all that scent he wears. What were you thinking, coming here? Surely you realize that the house is watched.”

“I was desperate. And nobody saw my face. I kept my head down and my hat—”

“Damn it, your scent, Honoria. Those watching the house aren’t simply using their eyes.”

A kernel of suspicion burned in her. “Why is Vickers here?”

He did smile then, that familiar, mocking curl of the lips that she remembered. “Politics. Vickers is trying to play me. Your escape cost him a great deal of face.”

Despite herself, she felt an odd twinge of discomfort. She shouldn’t care, truly. Leo was nothing to her. But… “Are you going to be all right?”

“Do you give a damn?” Leo gave her a direct look.

“Of course I do.”

He blinked. Then looked down into the glass. “You don’t like me.”

“I wouldn’t wish Vickers on my worst enemy. Besides,” she added softly, “Father always had a soft spot for you.”

Their eyes met.

“You need money,” he said, running his finger around the rim of the glass and dropping his gaze.

“I lost my job. My employer knew I was hiding something.”

“Get a new one.” Leo put the glass down and started for the door.

“I can’t.” She grabbed his sleeve. The effect as he froze was chilling. “I can’t afford to look after Lena and Charlie, not even with a job. I need access to the trust that Father left for us. You’re the executor. All I need is some money to tide us over until—”

He broke her grip. Caught her wrist. “You don’t understand. If I access that trust, people are going to ask why. It was bad enough that your father named me executor. I can’t explain why I’m withdrawing large sums.”

“Then take it out of your own drawings,” she said. “You can have whatever Father left. Just loan me enough to see me through the year. I promise I won’t ever ask for more. You won’t see me again.”

“I can’t.”

Her blood boiled. “You mean you won’t. You jealous son of a bitch. You’re doing this because—”

“
Don’t.
”

“They’re your brother and sister too.” Once the words were out, she regretted them. She’d never once told him that she knew why he’d tormented her so as a child, or why her father had spoken so often of him.

Leo’s face closed over. “I’m a Caine,” he replied. “It would be wise not to cast such aspersions, especially out loud. One might take offense at being called a bastard. You’re lucky that I have some feelings of misguided benevolence toward you and your family. I can’t give you money. You’ll have to make do.” His gaze ran over her, down the violet skirts and the elegant ruffles at the bottom that hid the frayed hem. “I cannot say that you look to be in dire straits. Perhaps you should part with some of the luxuries you evidently took with you.”

Honoria ground her teeth together. “This was a mistake. I thought you were a decent man. I was wrong.”

“You have five minutes.” He crossed to the door in a loose-hipped saunter. “I’ll keep Vickers distracted. And for god’s sake, spray yourself with some of my aftershave to dilute your scent.” He paused with one hand on the door. “By the way, you don’t by any chance have the diary, do you?”

“The diary?” The lie came easily to her lips. “Father’s diary?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t seen it since I escaped from Vickers’s house.” And she wouldn’t tell him if she did. “Why?”

“Are you certain?” Leo asked, his black eyes meeting hers.

“I’m sure.”

He nodded once, the bright gleam in his eyes dulling. “If I were you, I wouldn’t linger. And I wouldn’t come here again.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

Her last option walked out into the hallway and slammed the door shut.

“Damn it.” After everything, she’d thought that perhaps he might find some trace of humanity within to help them.

Obviously she was wrong. And now she was trapped in the same house as the creature from her nightmares, and she could only hope that Leo wouldn’t betray her.

She’d been such a fool. Trying to run from the inevitable. Honoria rubbed at her arms. Why bother? What was so wrong with selling herself? Perhaps a part of her had believed that they would escape this wretched mire and return to her former place in society.

There was no going back now. No escaping. She’d been starving herself for weeks for a principle. And the worst thing was, a part of her had always known it would come to this.