Imperial Clock (The Steam Clock Legacy) (22 page)

One full
turn to the left was all it took. The two halves of the case sprang apart, and Donnelly caught the item that tumbled out before it hit the floor.

It was a monocle. Tinted red
.

“
Give.”

He grinned and peeked through it
—“You’re looking in the pink,”—then handed it over.

Heavy for its size, the monocle had an ornate silver rim and a thick lens, maybe half an inch, that didn
’t appear convex. Its red hue was the only thing distinguishing it from— “Wait, what was that?”

Donnelly
leaned in, scrutinized it. “The colour’s deepened?”

“
Yes. With the heat from my breath, I think. I’ll try again.” Sure enough, it changed from crimson to puce and back again in moments, and when she held it away the original red tint returned, as though that were its default colour at room temperature.

“
Fascinating.”

“
It’s amazing.” She opened a window and held the monocle in the breeze outside, smiled at Donnelly when the lens gradually shifted to a yellowish green. “A temperature-sensitive glass. Those people really
do
know how to keep a secret. Are you impressed yet?”

“
Very.”

“
Just call me an honorary Atlas master.” Meredith crept around the room, spying on her world anew through the rose filter. Everything lilted intimately. It was the colour of cool heat. A Martian might see things this way.

“
Okay, Master, what is thy bidding? Seeing as you’ve got something to look through, shouldn’t we figure out what you’re suppose to look at? Apart from me.”

“
Why, Mr. Donnelly, no need to be so embarrassed.”

He shrugged
. “It’d take more than that, sweetheart.”

“
I’ve seen paler beetroots.”

“
Try a mirror instead of a spyglass and you’ll see who’s the beetroot, darlin’.”

She swallowed, felt her cheeks burn. But the excitement of discovery
—the monocle, flirting with a grown man whom she fancied—trumped her shame on this occasion. What was his question again? The sound of a key fiddling in the lock downstairs snapped her from her fantasy. “Cathy’s back. Quick, give me the case. Hide your paperwork.”

“
You don’t want Swanny knowing what you’re up to, eh?”

“
She’d tell Aunt Lily, and they’d try and put a stop to it. So no.”

“
Well, you’ve just joined the right club, by the sounds of it. Already a good ‘un at keeping secrets.”

“
Sshh.
Remember, you’re investigating Westerfeld for me. Nothing more.”

“
Yes, Master.”

She heard Cathy
’s boots creak the floorboards outside. “Offer you a cup of tea, Mr. Donnelly?” asked Meredith.

“
Be delighted, Miss McEwan.”

The taxi arrived at five-thirty on the dot to take Meredith and Cathy to their first official social function together, a farewell party for the daughter of an immensely wealthy metalwork tycoon, a Mr. J L Pocock, who had supplied materials for the last several upward extensions on the Leviacrum tower itself. Jenny Pocock had recently won a prestigious commission in the British Air Corps based on the Barbary Coast, and was set to leave in a few days. It was therefore an engagement not to be missed, with all manner of influential military men, government and Leviacrum officials, and titled personages vying to impress the estimable Mr. Pocock and his daughter, who was by all accounts an ebony-haired hellcat with a reputation for possessing zero tact. She’d be a bloody airship captain, no question, fond of flogging to get her own way, but wealth was honey and she was the queen bee of the week—for eligible males with a sweet enough tooth, her marriage bed was worth all the grief that would undoubtedly follow it.

One
queen bee, many suitors: rich pickings for any young woman yet to debut. Cathy had said tonight was the perfect opportunity for Meredith to display her charms. Grace and good humour could be spotted from across the room. It was a performance, then, to please everyone who might cast an eye in her direction, not just the person she was speaking to. Cynical conversation was a death knell if you had breasts in a place like this. Men of money liked women to be light and bubbly and elegant...and beautiful of course.

Hmm,
Meredith fancied she’d rather be Queen Bee Pocock and dispense with tact altogether. If a man was honestly interested in her, he should be pleased to hear what she had to say on more than fashion, the weather, inane gossip; he should either welcome her opinion or be sent packing.

But no, she would be on her best behaviour tonight, if only for Cathy, who was risking her own reputation by vouchi
ng for the daughter of a vilified scientist. A social gamble, then, and one Meredith was obliged to buttress. And if no ideal suitor could be found, at least she’d have this opportunity to see firsthand the faces of those she’d read about, the
real
villains of the British Empire, who hid in plain sight and bore dangerous numbers from one to eight. She would keep a sharp eye for those numbers on pocket watches that told only one time.

Over two hundred and fifty guests mingled in quite spectacular fashion in the ballroom on the second floor
. Envious gazes galore arrested Cathy and Meredith as they sauntered out in sapphire gowns cut low (but not too low) and pinched within an inch of their diaphragms. Silk leg-of-mutton sleeves, turquoise, with elbow-length lace gloves, and matching gilt-edged sapphire necklaces provided all the extra elegance they required to draw attention. A girl of weaker constitution might be tempted to run and hide, but not Meredith.

“
Don’t they know it’s bad manners to stare?” Meredith stitched on a smile for the crowd, following Cathy’s example.

“
Not when you’re to the manor born.”

They looked at eac
h, groaned, and laughed. To Meredith’s surprise, one man joined in from the buffet to their right with a thoroughly over-egged belly chuckle. He was on her before she had a chance to swat him with her enormous sleeve. His hook nose, manic bulging eyes and bared teeth recalled the mid-cackle male half of Punch and Judy.

“
What a delightful wit.” He sipped his glass of sherry, which was the same colour as his cheeks, then bared his teeth again. If Meredith could only throw a small coconut at that grin, she might win some sort of prize. “I love a good pun,” he said.
How about a good-bye?
“Chester Slocombe. Miss Jenny’s best friend since childhood. Always knew she’d rise to the occasion if only she—oh, ha, ha, ha! Did you hear that? Rise to the occasion...in an airship. Ha, ha, ha! Do you smoke it?”

“
We’d rather not,” Meredith replied with an eye-roll, “if it’s full of hydrogen.”

“
Hydrogen? Hydrogen. Oh, ha, ha, ha! My word, that is positively genius, Miss...”

“
Singh.” With that Meredith made her escape, dragging Cathy by the arm and leaving the tipsy Mr. Slocombe to ponder why Miss Singh was suddenly absent, and whether there was another pun somewhere in that name, and why it wasn’t as funny as the others. “Please God, tell me they’re not all like him.”

Cathy mashe
d her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut. It was all she could do to bottle the hilarity.

“
Laugh it up, Lady Muck. That was very nearly traumatic.”

“
I’m sorry, but you handled it well. Very...curt.”

“
I’ll never pun again as long as I live, I swear.”

“
Come on.” Cathy composed herself and after a long questing glance around the room, sighted their first quarry and led the way. “It can only get better.”

“
No, it had
best
get better.”

“
O, ye of little faith.”

Three unsuccessful introductions later, one to
an incredibly shy banker’s son, one to Essex’s highest-scoring batsman of the professional cricket season, and one to the drop dead handsome son of a prizewinning inventor—all of whom made their excuses and moved on shortly after hearing the name McEwan—Meredith’s anger began to bite, as it had that week in school when rumours of Father’s betrayal of his partner Clochefort had first made all the papers. The invisible albatross was hanging around her neck once more, and it made her want to slap faces, kick crotches, generally wreak vengeance on these unthinkably misinformed peacocks.

Cathy
, on the other hand, even though she’d likely never been ostracised in her life before, took it well on the chin, the odd shrug or playful pout the only concessions to her disappointment. And Meredith didn’t want to disappoint her. Cathy should be the focal point of any gathering, not made to feel like a wallflower by dint of the dubious company she kept. But what could be done? They were jammed by contempt, that was all.

T
hen Cathy prevailed upon her older cousin’s friend, who was coach of the England Under 21s cricket team, to suggest an introduction. The young man he took them to was named Thurston Kingsley, a floppy-haired but very congenial, rather easy-on-the-eyes Oxford freshman who—thank God—didn’t react in any way to her surname. Cathy seized on this opportunity and slyly coaxed the old coach away, leaving Meredith and Thurston to chat alone near the resting orchestra.

“
Nice dress—really suits you,” he said without a shred of irony or guile. And she was looking for both out of habit; many a time man and boy had troweled on the compliments with her imminent bed in mind—it was not hard to spot. Could this be the only agenda-less lad of her age group?

“
Thank you. I like your tuxedo, very swish. Where can I get one?”

His quiet laugh and warm
smile were relaxing to be around.

“
Do you know the Pococks at all, Mr. Kingsley?”

“
A little. Our families share several of the same friends, so naturally...”

“You’re not here to chase after Jenny Pocock then?”

“
Good Lord, no.” He checked to make sure no one was listening in. “No, I’ll not say what I was going to say.”

“
Why not?”

“
I don’t know you well enough, for starters, and we are her guests after all.”

“
Be as a frank as you like, Mr. Kingsley. In fact, that can be your name from now on—Frank—
if
you say what you were going to say.”

He sho
ok his head in amusement. “These society balls are normally the pits, such dreary affairs, and then you showed up. That was a compliment, by the way.”

“
Thank you for clearing that up,” she teased.

“
Very well, what I was going to say—” He checked behind them once more, “—is that I find Jenny Pocock insufferable. On one note the whole time, and a screechy one at that. She’ll nag the life out of the poor sap she chooses. A lot of the blokes feel the same about her.”

“
Then why are they here? Why are you here?”

“
How else could I have got to meet you, Miss McEwan?”

She straightened his bowtie
for him. “Frank, I like you. Will you do me a favour?”

“
Of course.”

“
Keep me to yourself this evening. I’m not feeling gregarious, and there are altogether too many slimy customers I’d really rather not meet. This is much more my style. Let’s have our own little party in the corner, by invitation only. What do you say?”

“
Be delighted. That would be my notion as well, if I’m being honest. Never did care for parading about these places.”

“
I’m glad. It’s settled then. What shall we have to drink?”

No sooner did she start for the somewhat redu
ced pyramid of champagne glasses across the hall when a boisterous set of young men jumped Kingsley from behind. One of them put him in a playful headlock, while another pretended to knee him in the face in slow motion. All very high-spirited and loutish and good fun; Meredith rather enjoyed the aghast expressions on the faces of snooty guests nearby. Yes, these strapping, high-born hoodlums were definitely more her cup of coffee this evening, provided they had some of Kingsley’s easygoingness as well.

“
I say—Thurs—who’s this you’ve managed to tuck away from the rest of us? For shame. Denying us the best-looking girl here.” The speaker had a neck thicker than his head, and sported a black eye. Probably a rugby player.

“
Hear! Hear! Why if it isn’t just like Thurs, hogging the crease like some peevish tail-ender.” Meredith couldn’t quite decipher his cricket-speak, but the new, Eurasian-looking speaker had his arms over the shoulders of two of his mates. He gazed approvingly at her. “New to London, miss?”

Kings
ley broke out of the headlock, cocked his arm for a mock punch at the posse, then laughed hard when they all put up their dukes. “Gentlemen and reprobates of the Oxford Cricket First Eleven, allow me to introduce Miss Meredith McEwan.”