The Iron Heart

by Leslie Dicken

  Miss Wilder did not yield. “You still have not explained why you want this kept secret, why you refuse assistance from other district leaders.”

  Because it was up to him to control the situation. Only he could put an end to the ensuing devastation.

  Instead, he said, “Panic is born from fear and breeds chaos. A single killing is bad enough, but you mentioned to them another before. Now there will be thoughts of a repeat killer.”

  She came toward him. “Perhaps, but knowledge is power.” Her voice softened. “Children can be told to remain close to home, young women will know to not be on the streets alone. I run a newspaper, I can warn others about him.”

  As she neared, her lavender scent triggered alarming sensations. She smelled of a woman, desirable and feminine and soft. Swelling blood pumped hot through his heart, shallow breath squeezed in his lungs.

  As he stared at her bosom, a blush grew darker across her décolletage and up her neck, like a mask of crimson.

  The room shrank, collapsed into this spark of lust.

  His mind, addled with the lack of proper sleep, saw her luscious body naked before him. Large breasts, curvy hips. She would be wanton and seductive. Beautiful and delicious.

  Heat rushed to his groin.

  Bennett blinked then suddenly saw that glorious body lying dead before him.

  “Lord Barrington?”

  He shook himself into reason. Dear Lord, he was going mad. Another month or so of this hell, he could be fully without logic and sense.

  She would see the wildness in his eyes. He turned farther away. “Miss Wilder, I have my reasons. You cannot undo what was just done, but you can keep this conversation to yourself. Allow me to respond to further inquiries, as is my role. And do not, I repeat do not, print any of this in your paper.”

  The damned woman said nothing. She had no reason to speak out of turn earlier. She was of lower rank, in a far district, and had no relation to Rosemary Sanders. What stake did she have in this news?

  He inhaled a deep breath of air until fully in command of his emotions. Bennett faced her. His sharp gaze raked over her, taking in her determined green eyes and pursed lips. Soft curves of silk and lace rounded out her feminine shape.

  Lightning shot to his toes. Damn the woman.

  He pulled his shoulders back and clenched his jaw. She would see he was not a lowly boy to be trampled upon.

  “Should I take your silence to mean agreement? Or a pout?”

  Miss Wilder stepped back. “I will not remain silent on this unless you can prove to me that measures are being taken to protect those in Lundun.”

  “My assurance is not enough?”

  “I hardly know you enough to trust you.”

  The door at the far end of the room creaked open. “Hello?” Lady Westerling, leader of District Three, spotted them and waved. “Are we going to carry on the meeting or not? I want time in that dirigible before darkness falls!”

  “We will be out in a moment,” he told her.

  The old woman nodded pleasantly and retreated, shutting the door behind her.

  The insufferable Miss Wilder started across the room.

  “Wait.”

  She turned and held his gaze. “We have come to an impasse. The people deserve to know the danger they face from this butcher.”

  Bennett caught up to her and once again captured her elbow with his hand. His fingertips itched to explore more than this simple yet warm bend of her arm. Her breasts lay so close, just within reach.

  He pulled his hand back and stepped away from her.

  “What reason do you have for this passion? Are you chasing a story for your little newspaper? Surely nothing else could explain your interest in this murder.”

  Noises from the meeting room next door filled the empty air between them. Miss Wilder did not respond and her silence spoke more than any words. Her connection to the killing ran deeper than straightforward meddling or innate curiosity.

  He glanced her over. She looked so similar to Rosemary. Same honey-colored hair, same sweet lips and angelic eyes. Those silk-covered curves could tempt even the most jaded rake. Or the most atrocious killer.

  A sickening chill forged down his spine.

  “You must retreat, Miss Wilder. What will it take?”

  Her gaze narrowed, darkened, as she considered his statement. Then finally, “The District Guardian will print nothing of this crime, for now. And you may retract my earlier statement if I may help with the investigation of Rosemary.”

  Damn her.

  Again, he clenched his hands into fists, and this time welcomed the cut of his fingernails in his palms. He must do this alone. Alone.

  Yet, if he could not pacify Miss Wilder, she would rant on to everyone and then every careful plan he wrought would descend into chaos.

  He could not allow that to happen. “And in return?”

  “I want full access to your investigation.”

  “You will not hold your tongue otherwise?”

  She shrugged. “You choose the lesser of the two evils.”

  He already had. Managing this strong-willed pixie would be far easier than containing a riled crowd hunting through alleys with pitchforks.

  The dirigible floated at a far higher altitude than Ellie’s Lightrider could ever reach. They rose far up over the trees and away from Lundun and its multitude of districts. The nobles did not want to see the black stain they lived so close to yet governed from afar.

  The wooden gondola of the dirigible was built with a large, inside cabin containing several small rooms and a single, open deck. A series of strong ropes tied the deck to the large, oblong balloon. It was amazing ingenuity. Ellie envied the genius of the inventor.

  Everyone but Lady Westerling and she were in the cabin rooms. Either the wine inside was overly impressive or everyone else had little fondness for the heights they climbed.

  “I don’t believe him, you know.” Lady Westerling was at her elbow again after staring down the opposite rail.

  “Whom?”

  “Lord Barrington, of course. After you spoke with him in private, he then came out and announced you were in error.”

  Ellie stared at the darkening green far below her. Long shadows from high trees crossed the land, slashed into her heart like daggers. “Ah, yes.”

  “Although he claimed the girl you mentioned was only hurt and the perpetrator was caught, your passion made you sound much more convincing.”

  Ellie nodded, still not looking at Lady Westerling. She was a lousy liar. Bad enough that she couldn’t chance to look her in the eye. It would be too easy for her to spill the deal she’d made with the devil.

  Yesterday she’d set out to bring the Syndicate together in pursuit of a killer. Now, she was forced to eat her words and rely on a man who kept the world away with his secrets.

  Instead she choked out, “He is the province leader of District Four.”

  “Hmm.”

  There was no getting past Lady Westerling, apparently.

  For the next few minutes, they rode in silence. Below them birds flew in V-formation, loud cries carrying up to their perch. Hills rose and fell away in the distance with manor homes dotting their peaks.

  “He is abrupt, but quite handsome.”

  It was Lady Westerling again, musing at her side. Ellie glanced over at her to see white hair whipping wildly, but the old woman’s goggles were firmly in place. An extra magnifying lens had been added to the exterior. Her eyes looked enormous.

  “I mean, Lord Barrington, of course. My boys have their own boys now.” She patted her arm with a leather-gloved hand, though the fingers were visible. “He would be quite the catch, you know.”

  Ellie’s eyes widened.

  “You disagree?”

  She stuttered an answer. Yes, the overbearing, stubborn man was handsome. Her body obviously recognized it when his raw gaze gave her a veiled thrill. His jaw and cheeks were hard-angled, lips full. His dark eyes were framed with black ey
elashes, his nose strong but not pointed.

  Handsome perhaps, but she hadn’t spent much time studying men, not the way her peers did. Not the way Jenny had.

  While Jenny giggled over her brief kisses with Miles and how she couldn’t wait for their wedding night, Ellie ignored most potential suitors. She enjoyed turning needles into leverages and balances instead of using them for actual stitching. She’d rather fine-tune her Lightrider than attend weekend balls.

  Oh, Ellie’s heart had indeed quickened at the sight of an attractive man. Hell, her body responded almost instantly to Lord Barrington. But to be someone’s wife? That was another matter entirely. A husband might be necessary one day, but so far she’d mostly witnessed them as demanding, pompous and controlling.

  “We spoke about you a few days ago.”

  She shot Lady Westerling a glare. “You what? Why?”

  The old woman shrugged innocently. “I was telling him about all of the Syndicate members, of course. It didn’t hurt to let him know you were unmarried and as pretty as sunset.”

  Ellie shook her head. Bah. This wasn’t how she wanted to present herself. She’d worked hard to be respected for her candor and intelligence. Not some debutante on the hunt for a wealthy husband.

  “Oh, Miss Ella.” Lady Westerling removed her gloves and tucked them securely in her leather belt. “We shall fix you right up so that Lord Barrington has no excuse not to find you as lovely.”

  “But I don’t want him—”

  The old woman didn’t listen to Ellie’s resistance as she adjusted the neckline of her dress. Then she took one of her necklaces off, a gold one with a dangling key and lock and placed it around Ellie’s neck. It nestled right into the now-revealed folds of her cleavage.

  “Lady Westerling, this is ridiculous. I don’t need to be prettied up and I don’t care about Lord…”

  The door opened and they looked up like guilty schoolchildren. Bennett Pierce stepped out onto the open deck, the wind instantly catching strands of his midnight hair. He’d left his coat inside and his white shirt flattened against the contours his chest.

  A gasp was out of Ellie’s mouth before she could stop it.

  Lady Westerling beamed at him. “How is the wine, Lord Barrington?”

  “Most excellent. You ladies should certainly partake.”

  “I believe I shall,” she replied and left Ellie alone with the man.

  “And you, Miss Wilder?” He joined her at the railing.

  “I prefer to keep a clear mind.” Wine had the nasty habit of making her do the most foolish things. She didn’t need the added bravado.

  “Doubtless a wise choice, Miss Wilder.”

  Ellie pulled her gaze from the distracting breadth of his shoulders to the reassuring vastness of the evening sky. The sun hovered above the horizon. Ripples of red and pink lit up the heavens, illuminating the clouds to a tender shade of lavender.

  Bennett moved closer. She could feel the heat from him, smell his cologne of sandalwood and musk. His arm was just inches shy of brushing hers on the railing. Awareness prickled along her skin, stood up every hair. Her mouth watered, pulse intensified. Now that the old woman had put it in her head, she was suspect to his every move. And her every response.

  He cleared his throat. “I appreciate you keeping silent earlier.”

  When he lied to everyone. What else could she do? She’d made her deal. She’d not back out of it.

  “It wasn’t easy,” she admitted and watched the shadow of the dirigible edge up the steep bank of a hill.

  Bennett laughed. “I imagine it wasn’t. I will have the report sent to you by morning.”

  At once her stare was upon him. “That was not what I agreed to.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the railing. Wind billowed his shirt around him again and drew her gaze to the open area of silky skin at his throat.

  She swallowed, but could not look away.

  “What is it that you expect to learn from the report? Or from participating in the investigation?”

  “More than what I know now.”

  “This passion of yours could lead you into danger. Look at you.” His heated glance traced a path of scorching fire from her neckline, over her breasts. He’d done the same in his ballroom. And just as then, a defiant tingle shimmied to her toes.

  “You are exactly like Rosemary. Light hair, sparkling eyes, tempting body.”

  She couldn’t stop the blush creeping up her cheeks. The fiery trail he’d just blazed burned like the hottest steam.

  “Miss Wilder,” his voice dropped dangerously low, a lover’s caress along her skin. “You should stay as far away as possible.”

  From him or the killer?

  Blazes, she must gather her wits. These swirling echoes of desire he generated in her were madness. She wouldn’t stand for it. “I shall protect myself.”

  A cutting laugh. “How is that? How would you, a noble from the Greenlands, protect yourself from a killer? In fact, how would you protect anyone?”

  The dirigible began its descent as Barrington Manor came into view. She turned to watch their approach to the strange, tower-like structure.

  Ellie didn’t know the answer to his questions other than she must find a way. She promised to remain silent so that he could lie to other province leaders that there had not been a murder. But she had not agreed to hold her tongue around those she loved. She would keep the girls and women of District Eight safe, that she was bloody well certain.

  Eventually there would be a front-page article on the alleyway killer. Once she had more facts.

  “Miss Wilder.”

  “Ella is fine,” she sighed. “I tire easily of the title nonsense.”

  His large form blocked the wind and provided instant warmth. “Very well, you may do the same. Bennett or Barrington.”

  The words tickled down her spine. She wished he would move back, give her space. And yet, an urge struck to lean back, to rest against that impenetrable body.

  No doubt, he was eyeing the manipulations Lady Westerling had done to her cleavage. A proper lady would cover herself and yet Ellie did not move. Her breath quickened.

  “After the presentation when we return, others will take their leave for the night. You may remain, if you wish to interview the surgeon.”

  “And Rosemary?”

  “If you truly wish to see her, then yes, you may.”

  Excellent. This victory, however morbid it may be, was the first step toward doing what Miles and the police could not. Rosemary’s body could yield a magnitude of clues. It may lead her to the killer.

  And yet, as the realization dawned that she’d be here past dark, her chest tightened. Her breath came in short, terrified gasps. She shivered, tasted the same fear she had ten years ago. A sudden ache throbbed in her left ankle.

  She couldn’t fly in the night, even with beams on the Lightrider. No, not alone in the dark.

  But she had to stay and see Rosemary for herself. There was no trusting Lord Barrington’s report. He’d made it clear he wanted this investigation private. He welcomed her because she was a threat to his secrecy.

  There was only one choice she could make.

  Ellie swallowed, drew herself upright in determination. Then she spun around and nearly toppled into his chest. “It will be too late to fly back to Hilltop Hall in the dark.” She batted her eyelashes. “I’ll need either a coach or a room.”

  Chapter Three

  The final event of the night was a demonstration of Lord Barrington’s creations. They all descended to the lower level of the house and into a large room, where the walls were lined with thick metal. Food had been set out for them to nibble while they wound their way around the exhibits.

  A series of inventions stood on display from one end to the other. In front of each perched a placard with the item’s description. There were several apparatuses for pouring tea and another with a mechanical arm that stitched on fabric. There were items for cleaning, for
hauling large objects, for trimming the grass.

  Everyone, save Ellie, ooh’d and ahh’d as they made their way around the room. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the inventions. However, replacing people with humanoid automatons went too far. Lives wouldn’t be made easier, people would be out of work.

  She’d made it her mission to let her paper readers know of any developments with automatons.

  Their host, Lord Barrington, had slipped out through an unremarkable door at the far back of the room. And from the moment he was gone, Ellie was suspect of his disappearance. What other excuse would he have for leaving his guests than to attend to Rosemary’s autopsy?

  Would that pompous man do that without her, even as she stood just several yards away?

  Lady Westerling showed up at her side. “You never came inside to join me for wine.”

  “No.” Ellie hadn’t joined her, but instead chose to stay out on deck with Bennett. She could tell herself it was to learn the secrets he kept so close to his heart, but it wouldn’t be the full truth.

  He had her mesmerized. Her body reacted to him in ways it never had to any other man. Ellie still flushed from the encounter, from the desperate urge to press herself against him. Damn the man.

  She turned to the woman’s sly grin. “Did he mention to you where he’s gone? Shouldn’t he be here with his guests?”

  “One would think so. Why don’t you look for him?”

  Dare she sneak through that door?

  She felt herself move in that direction. The inventions were fascinating, but not as much as the man himself. Or what the man was hiding. The others didn’t see it, but she fully believed this presentation was a careful offering. A show of his wild intellect, when all along he had something greater to conceal.

  Something greater. She glanced about at the brilliant creations. Barrington had the skill to produce something more advanced than what was here.

  But what?

  As she approached the door, almost within reach of the brass handle, it opened. Bennett emerged, alone, and quickly pulled the door closed behind him. Then he looked up and noticed her standing there.