Real Girls Don't Rust Page 4

Before Amelia could protest, Gabriel swung her into the middle of the dance floor. She gazed back to the place where they’d been standing, hoping that her mother would come to her rescue. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother lost in conversation with two other women. A hopeless sigh escaped Amelia’s lips as she realized that there was no one to save her from the annoying situation.

  “Normally, I don’t approve of my brother’s actions, but his taste in women is impeccable.”

  Amelia’s hand jerked, but she caught herself before she slapped him, suddenly unsure if her reaction would be appropriate or not. Although his behavior was crude and rough, slapping the host’s brother couldn’t be deemed ladylike.

  His smile grew. “I apologize if I offended you. It wasn’t meant as such.”

  Amelia lifted her chin, sucking in her stomach. As Richard’s future wife, it was her duty to uphold his honor. “I dare say, your tongue is as dishonorable as your birth.” She felt Gabriel’s hands tighten and smiled to herself.

  He looked away but continued to lead her across the floor.

  They danced in silence. It seemed as if the song would never end. Amelia kept an eye on the entrance, wishing Richard would come and release her from this awkward predicament, but there was no sign of him.

  “Looking for Richard?” Gabriel grumbled. “He might be awhile.”

  “He’ll be along in a minute. He promised me.” She chewed on her lower lip as she peered over Gabriel’s shoulder. One of the more elderly senators—Jameson, if she remembered right—glanced in her direction. She raised a finger, trying to get his attention, but outside of a friendly smile and a nod, he gave no other reaction.

  Gabriel laughed. “Am I such bad company?”

  “I’ve had better,” she answered.

  “That wouldn’t include Richard,” he said, but as she opened her mouth to protest, quickly added, “I’m sure he’s convinced you of his admirable intentions. He’s always had a talent for hiding the truth.”

  Amelia stopped and glared up at him. “You dare to insult my future husband?”

  Gabriel quickly glanced through the room. Then he pulled his arm tight around her waist and forced her to spin around with him. “Keep dancing. People are beginning to watch us.”

  “A stranger dancing with the host’s future bride? Of course they’re watching!” She glowered, but let him lead her across the floor. “I’m surprised no one has gone to find Richard so he may come to my rescue.”

  “That isn’t necessary.”

  “Why do you say that?” she asked, not trying to hide her irritation.

  As she peered up, he caught her gaze. “Perhaps I am your rescue.” He pulled her around, guiding her through the other dancers toward the balcony doors. “Come with me, and I’ll explain.”

  Amelia knew she should end this fiasco and refuse to dance with him any longer, but she couldn’t. Something about him intrigued her. Perhaps it was his eyes, she thought as she chanced to look up at him. The blue was as pure and clear as the river that ran outside of town. Although she knew this meant nothing, it made him seem more readable, as if she could peer into the very depths of his soul. Richard’s eyes were dark and mysterious. He claimed he had no secrets from her, but she never quite believed him. She could see the thoughts racing behind the shadows of those eyes. There were secrets, many of them, but until this moment that had never bothered her.

  As they reached the doors leading to the balcony, Gabriel pressed his hand against the small of her back and led her outside. When he let go, the warmth left with him. She shivered.

  “Here.” He slid his arms out of his jacket and slung it over her shoulders. She wanted to push it away, but the musty smell mixed with the lingering heat from his body intoxicated her. She pulled it tight around her neck, inhaling.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Gabriel leaned back against the banister and took a deep breath. From his face, Amelia guessed he couldn’t be much more than twenty, and the muscles pressed against the thin material of his white shirt guaranteed her that he wasn’t as diplomatic as Richard. Judging from the size of his forearms and the darker tone on his cheeks, Gabriel was used to hard physical labor.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  The heat grew in her face, but this time she knew the night would hide it.

  “I hope whatever you have to say to me is worth dragging me away from the party.” She tried to sound sharp and disapproving.

  “Yes, it is.” His eyes studied her. “But I’m afraid you won’t like to hear it.”

  She cocked her eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

  “Stay away from Richard,” he said.

  “Is that a threat?”

  “No. It’s a strong recommendation.” He watched her for a moment. Then as if he had made a sudden decision, he stepped toward her.

  Amelia’s world froze as he placed his finger under her chin and tilted her head up toward his. This was not something she was prepared for. She knew she should turn away but found herself unable to move.

  “My brother is dangerous. Very dangerous. It would be a shame if his greed destroyed something as enchanting as you.” He leaned closer.

  Amelia closed her eyes as Gabriel’s breath brushed across her face.

  “Stay away from him. Please.” His words drifted away with the breeze as his hand drew away.

  Amelia opened her eyes. Everything spun around her, a sensation she truly enjoyed.

  “Hiding out on the balcony?”

  She turned to find Richard coming through the door. A small yelp escaped her lips as she frantically glanced around, but Gabriel was gone.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Your cheeks are flushed.” Richard set one of the glasses he was holding on the banister and glided his finger across her cheek. “A beautiful color, I might add.”

  Amelia leaned back against the smooth wood, trying to collect herself as quickly as possible. “I’m fine, just a bit warm. I needed some air.” But as she said this, a breeze swept by. She wrapped her arms around her, realizing that Gabriel’s jacket was gone.

  “You seem confused.” Richard gave her a tender smile and handed her the glass still perched between his fingers. “Here, maybe this will help.”

  “Champagne?” The cool drops forming on the outside of the glass felt nice against her warm skin. “Is there a special occasion?”

  “Yes.” His heavy eyebrows lowered, making his eyes darker than usual. “I’ve had a very successful day.”

  “May I ask what happened?”

  He shook his head as he picked up the other glass from the banister. “Not yet, but when the time comes, I’ll let you in on my little secret.”

  “Promise?” she asked with a teasing smile.

  “As if I could ever keep something from you.”

  He held out his glass. Amelia tipped hers against it, letting a delicate clink echo through the night. She wished she could read the thoughts scurrying through his head.

  Richard led her back into the ballroom and took her into his arms. Holding her as close as etiquette allowed, he twirled her across the dance floor. Richard’s eyes glistened with childish delight, and he laughed as they dodged in and out of the couples around them. Letting herself get caught up in his glorious mood, Amelia smiled and laughed along with him. She was more than willing to stuff Gabriel’s warning, as well as the uncomfortable effect he had on her, into the corners of her mind.

  As Richard led her back to her mother, Amelia wanted to protest. The dance had been much too short, but as she saw him glance over her shoulder, she knew her objections wouldn’t do any good.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, when his eyes narrowed.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you for a few minutes,” he said quickly. “Governor Cushing requires my assistance.”

  Amelia pouted. “Only if you promise to dance with me again tonight.”

  His eyes softened. “I won’t be long.” He leaned close
r and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Wait for me,” he whispered and stepped away.

  “He’s not very attentive tonight, is he?” Amelia’s mother puckered her lips as she stepped up next to her. An empty champagne glass teetered dangerously between her fingers. “I need to get another one of these.” Stretching up onto her toes, she scanned the room.

  Amelia sighed. Ever since her father had passed away, her mother tried to forget the worries of life every chance she got by drowning them in champagne or any other alcoholic beverage available at the time. It wouldn’t be long until she’d be draped over some gentleman’s shoulder, assuring him that she’d been quite attractive in her day. Deciding not to witness another embarrassing performance, Amelia excused herself and headed outside.

  The gardens were Amelia’s favorite part of Richard’s estate. A fountain with a marble statue of Neptune and two fish, which sputtered droplets of water into the air, greeted her at the bottom of the stairs. She followed the pebbled path to the right, gazing at the numerous rose bushes planted along its edge. Richard’s mother had acquired them during her long journey overseas. Although she had since passed away, Richard made sure they received as much care as they had when she was alive.

  As Amelia neared the end of the path, she noticed an especially large blossom bobbing at the end of a thick stem. She caught the rose between her fingers. Despite the bright moon, it was impossible to guess the color of the magnificent flower. She leaned over to smell it, but a scraping from behind the bushes made her stop. It sounded as if something heavy was being dragged across the ground.

  She slipped off her shoes. Her toes sank into the moist earth as she made her way to the tall row of bushes behind the roses. She shoved her arms between the branches and forced them aside. There, not very far away, stood a small shed. A man propped the door open. Then he turned and heaved something large off of the ground. Amelia squinted, but she couldn’t see who it was. When he got to the door, he stumbled, accidentally dropping his load. The outline of a limp body plopped to the ground.

  Amelia pushed her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream, but the man must have heard her. He spun around and scanned the bushes with his eyes. She dropped to the ground, cowering in the cool dirt, although she was sure he hadn’t seen her, not through the thick branches. She sat still, listening to his footsteps as he moved around the shed. The pounding of her own heart made it difficult to hear anything else.

  The footsteps came closer. Amelia held her breath, balling her fists until the nails dug into her skin. She sat frozen, in the middle of the flowerbed, until the muscles in her legs cramped. She had no idea how much time had passed. Shaking, she peered back through the bushes. Nothing was there besides the shed.

  She got up slowly, the muscles in her legs stiff from crouching so long. She tiptoed through the dirt, but the second she reached the path, she ran. The stones jabbed into the soles of her feet, and she stumbled once or twice, ramming her toe hard into the rocky surface. She bit her lip in pain and tears coursed down her cheeks. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She was sure that she had seen the killer, the Archangel that had murdered so many in the last weeks. Now another girl was dead.

  A cool mist hung in the air as she finally saw the bold Neptune wielding his valiant trident. Unable to continue, she dropped onto the wet stone wall surrounding the fountain. The cold stone was hard against her face, and her chest tightened as she gulped for air. It was impossible to breathe. She couldn’t even cry. She wished the stone would suck her up inside, encasing her from the horror she’d just witnessed.

  “Amelia!” Two hands grabbed her shoulders.

  Amelia screamed and shoved at the blurry shadow, kicking and punching to get free. “No, let me go! Let me go!”

  “Amelia! It’s me, Richard!” He forced her against his chest, clutching her with both arms as he whispered, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  An odd, burnt odor met her as she pushed her face deeper into his jacket, but she didn’t care. Richard was finally here, and she was safe. “The Archangel…I saw him.”

  Between sobs, she tried to explain what she had seen. With tenderness, he stroked her head, whispering words of comfort whenever the memory threatened to overcome her. Finally, when she was cried out, he lifted her chin and stared into her eyes.

  “Don’t worry, Amelia. It’s over. Whatever horrid thing you saw, it won’t be able to reach you here. I promise.” He placed a light kiss on her cheek. “Come with me to my office. I’ll send some men to search the grounds. If the Archangel is here, we will find him. In the meantime, I’ll have my carriage take your mother home.”

  “Thank you,” Amelia whispered.

  Richard wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her as he led her around the house to the back entrance. She was glad to lean against him. Everything seemed unreal, like time caught in a foggy haze.

  Two servants met them at the door as Richard brought her through the kitchen entrance. He mumbled something to them and turned to take her up a staircase which Amelia assumed wasn’t normally seen by guests. Splinters from the rough handrail stabbed her skin as she pulled herself up the winding staircase. She stumbled once, her legs too weak to support her own weight, but Richard caught her. After another gentle kiss on her forehead, he helped her up the next flight.

  Amelia lost track of how many rickety steps they scaled, but she did notice a strange, mechanical grinding coming from somewhere above. When Richard unlocked a wooden door at the top, she realized that they must be in the attic.

  “You have an office up here?” It surprised her that he hadn’t taken her to the one on the first floor.

  “This is my work area. The one I use to create my inventions.” He grabbed the brass knob and the door swung open with a loud click.

  Although moonlight poured in through a row of small windows along one side of the room, Amelia had trouble distinguishing the shadows that lined the walls. Richard locked the door behind them and helped her to a large wooden chair opposite the windows. He eased her down onto the hard seat. A quick scratch was followed by the smell of sulfur as he lit the candles on a large seven-armed candelabra standing on the side of his desk.

  “There,” he said. With a flick of his wrist, he extinguished the match.

  Amelia gazed around the room, marveling at the objects she didn’t recognize. She couldn’t even begin to guess their purposes. Sheets of hammered brass and tin, gears and cogs of all sizes, coils of wire, hinges and joints, some of which had been screwed together much like the arms of Richard’s mechanical orchestra in the ballroom. A number of contraptions were connected by tubes of thick cloth. They swerved across the floor, over the ceiling and around the desk, all leading in the same direction. They clanked and rumbled like busy metal mice. She followed them with her eyes. They all led to the chair she was sitting on.

  Turning around, she saw a giant brass box built behind the chair. Some tubes screwed into it, while others scaled its side, following it all the way up into the ceiling. That’s when she noticed the brass bowl, covered with tiny tubes and knobs, hanging over her head.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  Richard took another match from the small box on his desk and opened the door to an oven, which had been built into the far wall. “That’s my little secret.”

  Another whiff of sulfur filled the air as he tossed the lighted match inside. Amelia watched the flames shoot to life. Now, she recognized the smell on Richard’s clothes—a mixture of sulfur, coal and burnt hair. She gazed back up at the bowl above her, her mother’s words calling from the back of her mind. A perfect circle burnt around their heads like the brim of a hat. Bile rose in her mouth as she mentally replaced the shadow dragging the body into the shed with Richard.

  Her stomach seized in disgust. “It was you.” She raised her head, wiping the spit from her mouth with the back of her hand. “You killed all those girls. You’re the Archangel!”

  An impatient sigh escaped Ri
chard’s lips. He slowly approached her and reached to take her hand, but she jerked it away. “Amelia. I didn’t simply kill them. I needed them to make the necessary calibrations. They were assistants in a greater cause. Without them, I could have never finished my machine—the Cerebral Regimentator.” His eyes widened with excitement as he spoke—the same childish glee she’d seen while dancing with him only an hour before.

  “Your what?” she croaked. The image of Richard tossing Elizabeth’s body under the bridge flashed through her mind. She gripped the armrests, her fingers digging into the soft wood.

  “Why, this!” With a chuckle, he waved his arm through the air, indicating all the gadgets and contraptions surrounding them. “This is one of the greatest discoveries in history—a machine that controls the human mind.”

  “But why?” Amelia leaned back, letting her head fall against the back of the chair. Black dots formed in front of her eyes and the room began to swim around her.

  “I had the idea shortly after the Battle of Bunker Hill. I told Prescott that he needed to stock more ammunition weeks before the attack, but he didn’t listen. Due to his shortsightedness, the British won the third assault.” With a huff, Richard sprang to his feet and paced across the room. “All of my suggestions were ignored. Each one would have brought a quicker end to the British occupation. And now that the Articles of Confederation are about to be signed, everyone refuses to listen to my advice again.

  “How can a government function when every land-owning fool is allowed to have his say? Democracy? A farce! A naïve dream! If this new country wants to withstand the greedy British monarchy, it must have a king of its own. A strong one. One that can guide it to true prosperity and power!”

  His wild eyes turned on Amelia. His mad smile made her blood curdle. She glanced at the door. The key was still in the lock. But it didn’t help her. The door was too far away. Richard would catch her before she made it halfway.

  He chuckled slightly as he followed her gaze. “Lovely Amelia, don’t fear me. I mean you no harm. I love you. You will make the most perfect wife.”