Heart of Brass (41 page)

“Help her.”

He wasn’t allowed inside while Dr. Stone performed the surgery.

The ship had a small medical ward that the doctor had been able to turn into a makeshift surgery. The onboard nurse assisted by setting up the equipment for a transfusion, and Luke made himself useful by donating blood. Arden had lost so much already.

The damned dress had saved her life. She would have had a nasty wound in her side had she not being wearing the gown. As it was she was badly bruised. The wound in her shoulder, however, was the bad one. The bullet tore into her just below the collarbone and fragmented. Erlich had been aiming for her heart.

Luke sat in a chair outside the ward, hand curved over his mouth, rubbing his jaw. Waiting. He might have even prayed, though he’d never admit to it.

“I’d like to tend to your wound, Lord Huntley.”

He glanced up at the nurse standing before him with a tray of equipment. “Wound?”

She pointed a hesitant finger at his head. “That one, sir.”

Luke reached up. It was scabbing over, but he felt the hole in his flesh where the bullet had hit. Was it in there, slowly working its way to his brain? He had a bitch of a headache, but he didn’t feel as though he were dying. Might be good to make certain.

“All right.”

The girl smiled and set the tray on the table beside him, where his glass of whiskey sat. He hadn’t touched it.

He sat perfectly still as she cleaned the area, even though the liquid stung. When she finished wiping at it, she frowned. “You have a metal skull.”

“Only on the outside,” he replied dumbly.

“The bullet broke the skin but bounced off the plating.”

“But there used to be bone there—that’s why he shot in that spot.”

She shrugged. “It’s not there anymore. Good luck for you, I’d say. It looks like it might have been designed to be a vulnerable spot.”

Luke didn’t respond. He didn’t say another word while she worked. Evie Stone had suspected the Company would use that small target as a way to kill him, and had saved his life without knowing whether or not he could be trusted. It would have been one of the few ways the Wardens would have to take him down as well. The nurse tended to his shoulder also—it required stitching. When she left, he got up and began to pace. The ship was safely docked once more and all the passengers had been ushered off, despite their desire to hear firsthand whether Arden lived or not. He’d dismiss them all as vultures if he hadn’t seen genuine concern on some faces.

One of the Scotland Yard blokes took Hannah home, and Clivington’s body had been carted away. His being killed was a good thing, but there were several people who were going to feel a lot of pain over it. Better that than knowing he was a monster. If there really was a judgment waiting for them all, then Clivington would be answering for his crimes to a power higher than any court in England.

Still, he understood that Arden had wanted to see him pay for his crimes. Luke wanted desperately to make Chiler—Erlich—pay for all that he had done to him, and to Arden and everyone else involved.

Finally, Dr. Stone appeared. She had been sweating a bit around the hairline and her striking face was dewy. Her apron was smeared and stained with blood. Arden’s blood.

Luke straightened. “Well?”

“I took the bullet out and stitched her up. It didn’t hit any bones or arteries, fortunately, but there was extensive tissue damage from the fragments. She’ll heal, but it will take a while.”

The air whooshed from his lungs. “So she’s going to be all right?”

“I won’t lie—I’ve seen people die from less, but Arden is very strong and she has a lot to live for. I believe that she’ll be fine provided infection doesn’t set in. I will give you instructions on how to prevent that. Would you like to see her?”

“Is she awake?”

“No, and she won’t be for some time. I’ll see about making arrangements to take her home. I don’t know if any vehicle travels smoothly enough to take the risk.”

“What if I carried her?”

She frowned. “You mean in a carriage?”

“No, I mean what if I walked home carrying her?”

She appeared astonished. “I hadn’t thought of that. It’s a fair bit of a walk.”

“I can do it, even with a wounded shoulder. She won’t weigh more than a sack of potatoes to me.” It was true. The Company had made him very strong, and his endurance was as high as a man’s could be.

“Yes, your strength. My apologies, I had forgotten. All right, then. If you want to take her home I’ll make up a list for you and follow behind in a hack.”

“Take our carriage,” he said. “It has to come home anyway, and it will be safer than a hack.”

She smiled, as though amused by the idea that he thought of her safety, or perhaps at the idea of traveling in an earl’s private conveyance. “Thank you, my lord. Follow me.”

Luke did. She led him into a very clean room that smelled of blood and disinfectant—smells he’d encountered too many times in his years with the W.O.R. and the Company.

On a table in the center of that room was his wife, her skin almost as white as the sheets that covered her. Her face was tinged with dried blood and gore. Dr. Stone had redressed her, and the gown that had looked so beautiful on her just hours before now looked garish and morbid.

He couldn’t see her chest move. “She’s dead,” he whispered, a sudden burning striking the back of his eyes.

A firm hand came down on his arm. “She’s only in a deep sleep, my lord. Take her home and I’ll follow. I promise I will not leave her side until I know for certain she’ll be fine.”

Without another word, Luke gently scooped Arden off the table, cradling her against his chest like a child. His battered flesh protested, but his gregorite-plated bones did not. The wound in his shoulder stretched but didn’t give, and the bruised area in his stomach ached like a son of a bitch, but he ignored it all. Nothing—absolutely nothing mattered more than Arden at that moment.

Making certain the sheets were tucked around her, he carried her down the ramp of the ship into the cool spring night. He walked as quickly as he could, with as smooth a stride as he could manage. It was perhaps one half mile to their home, and when he arrived, the entire household was gathered in the hall. Somehow they’d heard about the shooting.

Birdy rushed forward with a horrified look on her face. One of the men had been comforting her—the tall one who worked in the stables. “Is there anything we can do, my lord?”

“Dr. Stone will be here shortly. Have a room made up for her, please. I also expect Lord Wolfred will be by—have some food prepared. Cold meats and bread should do.” He hadn’t given many commands since moving back into this house, because he hadn’t thought it his place, but it felt natural to do so now.

He carried Arden to her room and carefully set her on the bed. He peeled back the sheets and slowly unfastened her gown to slide it off. He unhooked her corset as well, and then removed her blood-stained chemise. He ripped the seams apart on the fragile garment to avoid moving her as much as possible, and tossed it on the floor to be discarded. Then he eased the already turned-down blankets over her naked body. The bruises on her pale skin turned his stomach, and the dried blood made his throat unbearably tight.

What if Erlich had killed her? His eyes burned at the thought, and his chest pinched. He shouldn’t think of what-ifs. Erlich hadn’t succeeded in his plans, and the man who had stolen so many years of his life was now in the hands of the W.O.R.

Luke sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her sleep. “I heard you,” he whispered hoarsely. “When you said you loved me, I heard it. You better wake up soon so I can tell you how much I love you. I don’t understand how it happened so fast, but I do love you. You make me give a damn.”

He swiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands. “I will not let you leave me. I’m not like you; I couldn’t carry on without you. I don’t
want
to carry on without you.”

“Ahem.”

Luke turned. Dr. Stone was in the doorway. “Forgive me, your lordship. Wolfred is here, and I thought you might like to talk to him. I can sit with Arden.”

“I can’t leave her.”

She rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. “What if I told him to meet you in your rooms? You’d only be a few feet away then.”

He could do that. “Fine.”

The doctor left the room only to return a few minutes later. Reluctantly, Luke rose from the bed. “You’ll get me if she wakes?” Now that the rage and shock had worn off he felt…lost. Vulnerable. He didn’t like it. This was not how his father had told him a man should feel. A man was supposed to be detached at all times.

That was a damn useless memory to recover.

“Of course.”

Alastair was waiting for him when he entered his bedroom through the door to the shared bath. He was pacing, but stopped when he saw Luke. “How is she?”

“Good. Asleep, but Dr. Stone thinks she’ll be all right.”

“Thinks?” The anguish in the other man’s face inspired a multitude of emotions in Luke. He wanted to punch him. He also wanted to comfort him. He felt guilty, as though he had stolen Arden from him.

“She’s as certain as she can be given the circumstances.”

Alastair nodded, as though that sounded more satisfactory than “thinks.” “Evie said you carried her home.”

“I did.” That was all he was going to say. There would be no sharing of feelings tonight, not when his were so raw. What he needed right now was a good, old-fashioned stiff upper lip. “What of Erlich? And the bomb? Did you catch the Wasp?”

“We did. He was a little surprised to see us board his ship, and tried to take out Crane, but he soon saw the error of his ways. By God that Crane is a madman. After a few moments of Crane’s ‘persuasive’ techniques, the Wasp offered us Company secrets in exchange for his life. We’ll put him in the holding cells.”

“They will send someone to end him.”

“Most likely, but he’ll give us everything he knows before then.”

“And Erlich?”

Wolfred’s reply was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Bird, who had a tray laden with various cold meats, cheese, boiled eggs and hearty bread. There were also two pints of ale. A workingman’s supper.

Luke thanked her and sent her off to bed with the promise that he’d send for her if they needed anything at all. He turned his attention back to Alastair to find the other man chewing on some bread and cheese.

“The bomb’s been found and dismantled, but Erlich’s not talking,” Alastair informed him. “I don’t know if we’ll get anything out of him. He’d rather die than be disloyal to the Company. Christ, what a piece of work. All these years he was right under our noses and we were too stupid to see it.”

“I take it he was always above reproach?”

“Always.” Alastair took another bite, chewed and swallowed. “If I could simply get inside his head I’d make him tell me. When I think of all the secrets he gave those bastards….”

Luke lifted a tankard of ale to his lips and stopped. “Would you settle for his memories?”

His request was met with a very interested gaze. “Of course I would.”

“Wait here.” Luke went back to Arden’s room and collected the helmet she’d made from where she’d left it in the armoire. She said she had wanted to look at her mother’s memories before going back to the workshop for refinements. He took a box of punch cards as well. Dr. Stone watched him, but didn’t say a word. When he returned to his room, he offered the items to Alastair.

“What the hell is that thing?” Alastair demanded.

“It’s something Arden made. It records memories. You don’t have to get Erlich to tell you anything. You only have to make him remember it.”

Alastair lifted the helmet and held it in his two hands, regarding it with a lopsided smile. “She really is the most extraordinary woman.”

Luke said, “I know.”

And he had almost gotten her killed.

It was late the following afternoon when Arden woke up. She felt as though she’d been attacked by a labor automaton—one with hammers instead of hands. It even hurt to draw breath, but in that she had no choice.

She remembered being on the airship, Clivington and then Chiler—Erlich—with a gun…Luke. How could she have not seen the resemblance between Victor and his brother? How could she have let him get so close to her husband, who could very well be dead right now?

Desperation seized her as she struggled to sit up, but all that did was send a fresh wave of agony through her. She tried to bite back a cry of pain, but only succeeded in strangling it a bit.

“Arden?”

At the sound of his voice, she stilled. Ever so slowly, she lay back against the pillows and turned her head toward him. He sat in a chair but a few feet away. From the look of him that was where he had slept as well. He still wore his shirt and trousers from last night, despite them being utterly destroyed by bullets and blood. He was in need of a shave and his eyes were bloodshot.

He was, in short, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Alive, and beautiful.

She smiled. “Are we alive, or is this Heaven?”

His lips tilted. “I’d smell a lot better if this was Heaven.”

Her gaze moved up to his forehead—his poor, battered brow. “I saw Chiler shoot you in the head.”

“Turns out Dr. Stone augmented the bone ‘door’ the Company left in my skull with gregorite when she did her initial surgery. I asked her why, and she said she’d seen enough dead W.O.R. agents to know the Company always went for the head.”

Arden was going to hug Evie the next time she saw her. She might even kiss her too. “Why would she remove one of the few ways to kill you when the W.O.R. didn’t even know if they could trust you?”

Luke’s eyes brightened. “Oh, the Wardens know a dozen ways to kill me, I’m sure. They’d never be so vulgar as to put a bullet in my brain—wouldn’t be British.”

She chuckled—then wished she hadn’t. “Blast, that hurts. How badly was I injured?”

“Bruised ribs and a bullet to the chest.” His face went gray as he spoke. “He thought he had killed you.”

The bandages over her chest felt as thick as a pile of quilts and almost as heavy. She flexed the fingers of her left hand. They moved, and it wasn’t too painful.