Eventually, they reached the River Taff. His new almost-wife was stumbling with exhaustion by then, and her cough had begun to trouble her. Brecon cupped his brass hand into a fairly clean puddle and made her drink while One sneered.
“We should take the back roads to the shipyard,” Brecon suggested. “If we stay here we’ll walk right past the Blockaders’ headquarters.”
“I have no problem with that. You are the Brass Hand.”
“But you are with us,” Philadelphia said, squeezing Brecon’s hand.
He hadn’t minded their closeness a bit during this long, disturbing night. But romance needed to be the last thing on his mind right now. If only he could get word to his family. They would protect them both the way that Terrwyn Fenna had been protected by the community when the Blockaders had chased her. He needed to be a warrior now, a protector, not a lover. “What is your plan, One?”
One shrugged. “I’m a gambling man. If the Blockaders spot you, fantastic. If not, you’ll take me to your shipyard, nice and quiet, and help me obtain an airship from your family. If they want this money, fine. If they want a fight, that is fine too. Either way, we’re walking along the waterfront. I have a taste for that river smell.”
Philadelphia pressed her lips together. Brecon figured the odds were in their favor, since it was still quite dark. As long as he could keep his brass hand hidden there shouldn’t be a problem. After all, it wasn’t like they were gliding across the river in an illegal airship. Did One realize the risk he was taking? Brecon had lost his hand just over the Channel, helping Terrwyn Fenna take an airship out of the area.
They walked around the river, catching the smell of salt and fish and rotting seaweed. As they came closer to the Blockader yard, Brecon smelled fresh bread. The bakers started their day painfully early, though the shop front was still closed. A few yards away, he smelled cooking eggs. This pub was open, serving officers no doubt, about to start their day at the yard. Brecon wished he still wore his apron, but attempted to tuck his brass hand into a jacket pocket. The blasted thing didn’t fit, however, even when he made a fist. Instead, he bent his elbow and tucked his hand into his jacket, like Napoleon or a self-conscious amputee.
Just as they were past one pub, they reached another bakery, this one open. Brecon’s stomach rumbled and Philadelphia’s matched his with an inelegant sound that made her blush.
“It has been a long night,” he said.
One stopped in front of the open door. “I’m going in. Wait here.”
Was he going to steal their money, too? Brecon judged the chances of their escaping him. Surely the Blockaders would call for a constable if he opened fire on them, but then they all might be dead or imprisoned. He glanced at his almost-wife. She shook her head slightly. They would wait.
One ducked his head to enter the short doorway. Philadelphia clutched Brecon around the arm now, shivering slightly. Now that the sun was coming up, he could see faint blue shadows under her eyes, and streaks of dirt on her chin and one cheek.
“How are your feet?”
“I’d rather they were on the deck of an airship, leaving here,” she whispered.
“We’d be safer to take a train. I tried to leave here by airship once and it didn’t go very well.”
Her eyes widened and she glanced at his hidden hand. He had told her the story but she had apparently forgotten.
“I’ve never been to Cardiff,” she said. “I hadn’t put the pieces together.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the river. The outskirts of the large Blockader yard was just coming into view to the east of them.
“Where will we go?”
“We need to get the fare from my family or friends and escape One. If he wants an airship, fine. It should be easy to get away from him around my family’s shipyard. I know the streets and the people. Then, when we can, take a train to Hastings and join the Owlers.”
“Will they accept us?”
“Yes. They owe me a debt. They’ll want to know what has happened to the Red Kites. Someday, when we’ve earned enough money, we can decide to go to France or Italy, if that is still what you want.”
One was taking longer than Brecon had expected. He looked though the bakery window and saw him standing at the counter. The clerk was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had gone into the back to fetch One’s order. Or money. Could he hope that the man was getting bread for them too?
“Philadelphia?” someone said.
She gasped. Brecon turned quickly, the movement exposing his brass hand. But that was the least of his problems now.
“Ethan?” Philadelphia said.
~*~
CHAPTER EIGHT
Philadelphia’s cousin, Ethan Everard, stood two feet away, dressed resplendently in his black BAE uniform with quilted red and blue cuffs and hem. He held a captain’s hat in one hand. Apparently a promotion had been granted to him since they had last spoken at Rand’s funeral. Revulsion would have churned her stomach if anything had been in it. She held tightly to Brecon’s hand, gathering strength from him.
“What brings you to Cardiff?” Ethan inquired, frowning at her. “I thought you were moldering away at Cousin Susan’s with your sister.”
“I married,” Philadelphia said, lifting her chin. “I have a new life now.”
Beside her, Brecon shifted. She knew she shouldn’t have said it, but perhaps Ethan would wish her happy and go away. If only it were true, both the marriage and what she had said, but so far she just kept exchanging one prison for another. The only freedom she felt was the exchange of ideas with this intelligent, funny, and handsome man. Sometimes, she even thought he genuinely cared for her.
She should have known the worm would not make her life so easy, however. Her cousin moved closer, staring first at her disheveled appearance, then at Brecon. His eyes narrowed.
“You look as if you were in a carriage accident, dear cousin. Your husband should take better care of you.”
“We had some trouble on the road,” she agreed, shifting from one foot to the other. More used to trouble than she was, Brecon stood unmoving, but she could tell from the set of his shoulders that he was in pain. It had been such a long night, and his throat injury had turned his pleasant voice into a rasp.
“Your husband is familiar to me,” Ethan said, looking down his long nose. “One of the Gravenors, correct? The BAE commissioned the Equinox refitting from your family last March.”
Brecon nodded politely. Philadelphia knew he’d know nothing about it, since he’d been recuperating from the amputation by then.
“Speak up, man. Cat got your tongue?”
Brecon stuck out his right hand, which thankfully was relatively clean. “Pleased to meet you, Cousin Ethan.”
Ethan shook his hand, frowning. “You do not sound like a healthy specimen.”
“He has a cold,” she interjected. The bruises around his throat were covered by his collar.
“Why are you wearing a leather apron?” Ethan demanded.
She stared down at herself. “I thought to protect my dress from the train, what was left of it. I tore it.”
“Where did you take the train from? Where are you living now?”
“Just a pleasure jaunt,” Brecon croaked. “To celebrate. Back to my family home now.”
“Philadelphia is of good family,” Ethan said, grasping his lapel with one hand. “I hope you plan to provide her an establishment of her own.”
She sighed. “There will be time for all of that.”
“Hmm. I suppose you have no money of your own.”
She bit her lip, hurting herself to hold back the urge to hurt him. What a worm he was. Why, he’d stolen her ideas. Despicable as his uses were for them, she wouldn’t want financial restitution, but he hadn’t even offered. He was a low-down, dirty thief, worse than any free trader.
“You know, Gravenor, the Equinox is back in the yard for the first time this summer. We’ve been down in the south fighting the pirates. I expect you’d like
to come aboard and take a look?”
Brecon opened his mouth, and she knew he was going to say no, but she glanced into the bakery window and saw that the clerk had finally returned and was handing One a bag. They could get away from him so that he couldn’t use Brecon as leverage against his family.
“We’d love to,” Philadelphia said, taking her husband’s arm again and squeezing a warning. “Let’s go.”
“I haven’t had breakfast yet,” Ethan said, tapping a manicured finger on his teeth. “Why not? You can feed me later.”
“Are you the captain of the Equinox?” she inquired, setting a quick pace next to Ethan as they reversed his journey and went to the yard.
Brecon glanced over his shoulder as they walked, but didn’t offer any reaction. She had to assume One was still inside the bakery, not tracking them with heater in hand. Still, she felt like a target was pasted on her back.
“Just today. I appreciate the symmetry of being commissioned captain of the Equinox on the equinox. Neat, is it not?”
“It is September twenty-second already?” Brecon rasped.
“Indeed. Equal day, equal night. I felt today was special, and now I know why. Not just my promotion, but little Delphie married. Such a pleasant surprise.”
She was sure he’d consider her marriage anything, as it put another man between him and the inventions she might create. He’d supposed her safely rusticating. In reality, she hadn’t even had a lab at her cousin’s house and wouldn’t have worked even if she’d been able to, with the level of despair she’d been feeling. Really, she’d had no reason since she attempted to fling herself from a cliff to feel any better, given her imprisonment, but somehow, Brecon had changed everything for her. Love had changed her outlook.
She loved the man who was almost her husband. How had she not realized that until this moment? Now, how could she save her husband from Ethan? Getting away from One may simply have stepped them into a bigger problem.
So far, Brecon had kept his brass hand hidden, but he couldn’t do that forever. Luckily, since Ethan knew she was an inventress, she ought to be able to explain it away. She’d take the time aboard the airship to learn anything she could about how the man immobilizing devices worked. It would be knowledge to take to the Owlers.
She smiled sweetly at Ethan. “I do so look forward to discovering how exactly you are using my little inventions, dear cousin. Rand was forever promising you would give me a tour, though of course our tragedies prevented you from doing so.”
Ethan stared hard at her. He knew she was not an idiot. She needed to stop simpering. The distraction of not looking back was making her act quite strangely.
At the gatehouse in front of the BAE yard, a guard saluted Ethan and unlocked the gate. Ethan ushered them in.
“First, I think, a cup of coffee is in order.” He pointed to the left. “That building over there acts as our pub, though the bakery we met in front of is far superior.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Are women allowed inside?”
“For you, Mrs., er, Gravenor, anything is allowed. Come.” He walked them across a paved area and into the small building.
A number of men in officers’ uniforms sat at tables, eating eggs, rashers and buns, or cradling mugs of hot coffee or tea. She wondered which of them had given the order to fire the cannon that took off Brecon’s hand. But she couldn’t think like that. Her distaste might show on her face.
Ethan took them to the counter. “I think a full breakfast is in order. It will take a bit more time, but we must celebrate your wedding.” He made the order and led them to a table near the front door.
She had to wonder what Brecon was thinking. He had avoided this city, his family, and the BAE since February fourteenth, for fear he was a wanted man. Now, he was treated as family by a BAE captain, even though they were desperately filthy. Nothing felt right, except his presence by her side.
Ethan held up a hand and waved to another officer. “Just a moment,” he said to Philadelphia. “I must say hello.”
Brecon frowned as Ethan walked away. A teapot and three cups were deposited at their table. She poured, noting Brecon was careful to keep his hand in his jacket.
“Plenty of sugar and milk, please,” he said.
She nodded, knowing if anything bad happened this might be the only sustenance they received from the ordered meal. He lifted his cup to his lips.
“That is practically a meal in a cup,” he remarked.
“What do you think of this?” she asked in a low voice.
“I think I don’t like it one bit.”
They had finished their first cups and were drinking their second when Ethan’s companion got up from his table and left. Ethan returned to their table and accepted a cup of tea.
“Where did you meet?” he asked.
She was spinning a tale of a dinner party near their cousin’s house when their meals arrived. A sigh of sheer pleasure escaped her lips at the sight of all the food. She hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks. To think, her wedding breakfast was at a BAE yard.
Brecon had inhaled two sausages and was digging into his eggs when Ethan’s friend returned, trailed by two BAE constables. She tucked two slices of toast into her apron, wishing she’d had time to eat more than a few bites of porridge.
“What have you done, Ethan?” she asked.
An expression of self-satisfied mockery corrupted her cousin’s face. “Do you think I don’t know about your husband, cousin?”
“What do you mean? He is a shipbuilder.”
“He’s a pirate,” Ethan said. “No, his family has never been caught aiding the bloody free traders, but your dear husband was a known associate of the Fennas. At the very least he will need to be questioned.”
Brecon stared very hard at Ethan as she rose. Ethan grasped her arm. “No, my dear, have a seat. You did not know. How could you, with your quiet lifestyle? I am sure he misrepresented himself to you. I do hope he will be hanged very soon so that you may be released from your marital prison. I will, of course, be happy to offer you a home. I’m in need of a housekeeper. New establishment, you know, what with my promotion.”
She wanted to snarl. Ethan had always felt inferior to the Hardcastles. After all, he was. A bastard child, and a strange one at that. His mother had acted as housekeeper to her parents for a time. But she’d throw herself off yet another cliff before she lowered herself to keeping house for him.
She kicked her chair back from the table just as Brecon bent over, toward another table, and came upright holding the heater that had been holstered at a junior officer’s belt. Ethan’s friend cried out a warning and pointed the constables toward them.
Brecon pulled his brass hand from his jacket and slapped Ethan across the face. Her cousin’s head whipped sideways and he fell over backward, taking his chair with him. She ran away from the front door. Behind her, Brecon grabbed and slammed the large tea tray a server carried against the wall, sloshing hot tea and broken crockery all over the floor. He and Philadelphia flew behind the counter and into the kitchen behind.
“There has to be another door!” she cried.
He grabbed her hand and kept her moving down the aisle. “I can smell garbage already. It must be back here.”
Horrified cooks yelled at them as they dashed by, knocking over trays and pushing men aside. Thankfully, the door was clearly visible and open. They ran through and were in the alley.
“Should we leave the yard?” she asked.
“We might not be able to get past the guard. Plus, who knows where One is by now?”
“How are we going to escape, then?”
He pointed the muzzle of the heater up. “An airship.”
She borrowed his favorite saint. “Saint David, help us rise out of here!”
He tucked the heater into his jacket and pulled her down the alley, muttering to himself. “I can’t hide a woman. We don’t have BAE uniforms. We just need to find the first ladder and climb it, worry about the rest
later.”
Luckily, the Equinox was impossible to miss. It was tied down in a large field, the balloon fully inflated.
“There is no way just the two of us can fly it.”
“No, it’s a twenty-four man airship, minimum,” he agreed, pulling her into a run across the field, relatively empty at this early hour.
“What is your plan?”
“I’m sure the enslaved crew members will be happy to escape along with us, once you disable the Man Immobilizer.”
“Saint David,” she said faintly. How could she do that when she’d never even seen one? She started to draw diagrams in her mind. But the invention wasn’t hers, so she could only guess. Where would it be?
They reached the first ladder. Brecon pushed her at it, then fired the stolen heater at the first tie line. She climbed as the airship rocked against its moorings, wondering what she’d find when she reached the deck.
Nothing was moving when she peered over the railing. Strange, since the airship appeared to be ready to take off. Brecon started climbing just below her.
“Anything to concern you?” he asked.
“Not exactly.”
“We need to move. Gentle, now.” He pushed her over the railing.
She somersaulted to the deck. Feeling foolish but unharmed, she righted herself, straightening her skirts. “Everything seems eerily silent, like it is the dead of night instead of daybreak.”
Brecon jumped down far more elegantly. She admired the long, muscular legs that allowed him to do so. And the trousers. A married inventress ought to be able to wear unconventional attire, if she survived her wedding day, correct?
“They haven’t fired the engine.”
“Where is everyone?” she whispered.
“In quarters, I expect. They board the enslaved men on the airships unless they aren’t going to be flying anytime soon.”
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at a dark shape at the end of the deck.
Brecon pulled out his heater and tucked her behind him, then crept forward.
Soon, she saw it was a man. A man in a common crew uniform, not moving. He stood with a coal bucket in one hand. An eye was half closed as if he’d been in the process of winking or blinking when he was frozen.
Captain Gravenor’s Airship Equinox (Steampunk Smugglers) Page 10
