Glorious Victorious Darcys 01.5 - His Broken Angel

by Beth Ciotta

  “You can’t think about it like that, Lily.” He placed his hand over hers, infusing her with calm and strength. “This Will Everett … sounds like he was a fine man. He wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for his death. It wasn’t your fault. The blame lies with the killer and whoever put him up to it. As for running when you had the chance, you did the right and instinctual thing. The killer was still in the room. If you stayed and tried to help the others, God knows what he would have done to you. If you’d stayed, Will’s death might have been in vain.”

  Lily focused on the crashing waves below while wrangling her thoughts and emotions. Logically, she knew Doc was right. She also knew it would take time and doing before she’d be able to put that terrible night—the feelings and images—to rest.

  She licked her lips, summoning grit and a slice of P.J. Darcy’s reckless spirit. Even though Doc kept citing reasons to keep them apart, she knew in her heart they belonged together. He may not want to subject her to the intolerance of his race and all the challenges that entailed, but he loved her. Creating a life together wouldn’t be easy, but an artist didn’t paint a masterpiece in a day.

  Heart pounding, she admired Doc’s beautiful healing tattoos then interlaced her fingers with his. She thought about his hunger for family. She had the same pangs. “I might need some help coming to terms with that night. I don’t fancy burdening my brother. He has a new wife and his old career back home.”

  “Don’t know that Tuck plans on returning to America anytime soon.”

  “You said Queen Victoria promised to clear his name.”

  “That’s what I heard from StarMan. Also heard that part of the bargain included Tuck reclaiming a stolen historical invention. That involves tracking the Scottish Shark of the Skies.”

  “I’ve read about him. A notorious air pirate.” Lily frowned and, prodded by intense curiosity, turned to face Doc. “Why are you getting your information from Tuck’s second-in-command and not Tuck?” She thought back on what she’d overheard P.J. say, the cryptic comment that had sent Lily’s imagination and temper afire. “What happened between you and my brother, King? Why do you need to make amends?”

  He pulled away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. In the broad light of day, he looked amazingly handsome and almighty miserable. “I betrayed Tuck’s confidence and almost got him and Amelia killed.”

  Lily blinked. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because another Freak, someone I barely knew, promised that she could lead me to Jasper. In exchange and first, she needed to know the whereabouts of the Maverick. A benefactor of the rebellion wanted our precious cargo.”

  “The historical invention?”

  Doc nodded. “I was told no one would be hurt. I never considered being duped by one of my own kind. I’d been searching for Jasper for three years. He’s my only living kin and he’d driven a wedge between us with his criminal activities. All I wanted was a chance to talk sense into him before he ended up six-feet-under. In a desperate bid to reunite with my blood, I severed the trust of my other family—your brother and the crew of the Maverick.”

  Lily soaked in the story, bothered by Doc’s actions but understanding his motivation. She’d lied to her cousins and schemed behind their backs in order to join her own brother. Never mind that she suspected those cousins had stolen money Tuck had sent for Lily’s benefit. Or how they had been quick to believe the worst in Tuck when he’d been accused of murder. Though Lily’s circumstances differed from Doc’s, they’d both deceived others for noble reasons. That didn’t make it right, but surely it was forgivable. “Does Tuck know why you did what you did?”

  “He knows. I sensed trouble soon after I leaked the information. I contacted ALE and we interceded in the nick of time, although Tuck did take a blow. I visited him in the hospital and confessed. We’ve been estranged ever since.”

  “I don’t understand Tuck holding a grudge, especially since you tried to right the wrong.”

  “Forgiveness might’ve come easier if my betrayal hadn’t entailed Amelia almost getting blown to smithereens. To add insult to injury, since the kerfuffle happened in Tuscany and the invention belonged to the Italian government, I unwittingly instigated an international incident that landed Amelia Darcy in some mighty hot water.”

  “Good heavens,” Lily said. “What a mess.”

  “I only made it worse by dragging you in.” Doc shoved a hand through his hair, looked away. “When P.J. alerted me of your plight, I thought if I healed your injuries and delivered you safely to Tuck—”

  “All would be forgiven.”

  “I didn’t figure on falling in love.”

  Lily blinked.

  Doc worked his jaw then met her gaze. “When you first spoke of Will I confess, I was jealous. Thinking maybe you two—”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I was petty to begrudge the man. Maybe he fancied you, maybe he didn’t. But he cared about you enough, was man enough to honor his promise. He tried to keep you safe.

  “Toward the end of your story, I realized that no matter where you go, no matter what you do or who you’re with there’s always potential for a crisis. Keeping company with a Freak increases the risk, but if you’re willing to take the chance, Lily—”

  “You know I am.” Heart skipping and stalling and racing, Lily reached up and pushed Doc’s tinted blue spectacles to the top of his head. She looked into those kind eyes and smiled. “I love you, King. I could name a hundred reasons why, and I bet by the end of the week I could name a hundred more. The rift between you and Tuck, we’ll work it out. Together. Whatever the future holds, we’ll weather it. No, we’ll do better than that.” She thought back on what Jasper had said when she’d been ready to forsake this world. “We’ll shape the future. For the better. Through your gift of healing. Through my art. Somehow someway, we’ll make the world better and more tolerant of unique.”

  “My rebel angel.” He smiled then and took her into his arms. “Forever and always?”

  “Somehow. Someway.” Heart bursting, Lily embraced the adventure of a lifetime as Doc kissed her—improper-like—and painted her world with kaleidoscope colors.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Doc wasn’t sure how long he and Lily had been on the balcony. He’d held her in his arms and kissed her slow and deep, reveling in her beauty and passion. In her ability to infuse him with confidence and purpose. Surely the woman possessed her own brand of HE.

  His senses hummed with something he barely recognized.

  Serenity.

  He would have lingered even longer, but it occurred to him that the sooner they returned to London, the sooner they squared things with Tuck, the sooner he and Lily could forge a new life … together.

  Easing away, Doc traced a thumb over Lily’s kiss swollen lips. “As much as I’d like to continue …”

  “You were right,” she said all dreamy eyed. “There’s something to be said for slow.”

  Smiling, Doc ushered her through the door expecting to find Snoop on the other side.

  Instead, Jasper was waiting, one of those herbal cheroots dangling from his lip. “You two work things out?”

  “You could say that.” Doc glanced down at Lily, feeling like a changed man. A man who was tired of playing it safe. He squeezed her waist then looked back to Jasper. “As someone who’s spent a good portion of his life bucking the law, I don’t suppose you know of a preacher or some such who’d join a Vic and Freak in marriage?”

  Jasper raised a brow. “Wouldn’t be legal in most places.”

  “We don’t care,” Lily said. “It would be binding to us.”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Doc said to his brother.

  “Taking mind reading lessons from Snoop?”

  “You think we’re being hasty,” Doc went on. “You’re thinking it would be smarter to get Tuck’s blessing first.”

  “You’d be wrong. I’m thinking I can stop worrying about you
now.” Jasper blew out a stream of smoke then crushed out the embers. “You’ve always been a gentle soul, Blue. This gal brings out the lion in you. I like that. Venture it’ll go a long way with the Cowboy, too.”

  P.J. bounded into the small foyer. “We’re set, boss.”

  Jasper nodded and she took off. “We’re moving out,” he said, urging Doc and Lily forward. “Until I root out the traitor, I’m not comfortable with Lily being among the Fighters. Hell, I’m not keen on you being here either, Blue. Or anywhere near me. Someone’s working against us, against the cause. Meanwhile we’re committed to moving forward. Things are going to get ugly.”

  “They’re already ugly,” Doc said. “Dash it all, Jasper, why did you try to kidnap Madstone in the first place?”

  “To get the world’s attention, for one.”

  “You got that all right.”

  “And to ensure sequestered concentrated time with the man,” Jasper went on. “Madstone’s a man of great influence. He’s also one of the staunchest Old Worlder’s in politics. If we could expose him to a multitude of Freaks, educate him first hand regarding our gifts—”

  Doc stopped in his tracks. “You aimed to talk reason with Madstone? To debate the issues? To act in the capacity of a diplomatic Freak?”

  Jasper angled his head. “I do have a brain, Blue.”

  “Of course, you do,” Lily said. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the chance to try to influence the man. If he were to support more tolerant views of Freaks, that might go a long way in easing restrictions and laws.”

  “Precisely.”

  “There must be another way,” Doc said.

  “Working on that,” Jasper said, while moving them through another corridor. “Meanwhile, I’ve got to identify the traitor and that damned killing machine. Clearing up what happened on the Brittania, clearing my name and the reputation of the Freak Fighters will go a long way toward gaining credibility.”

  “I could speak up for you,” Lily said.

  “I appreciate that, but, no. Best for you to stay out of this. Leastwise till we root out the bad seeds.” Jasper nodded and someone triggered a door. “Can’t risk taking the Crusader out. Too recognizable. I’ve arranged for other transport.”

  “Just get us to a skytown near London,” Doc said. “I’ll take it from there.”

  “No need to put the squad at further risk,” Lily said. “Don’t worry. We’re armed. King still has your Disrupter 29.”

  “King, huh?” Jasper’s lip quirked. “Been a while since I heard that.”

  They stepped into fresh air and daylight. A waterfall gushed over the grist mill wheel, just as it had when they’d arrived. The village façade looked exactly the same and the same airships were docked at the same bays. What stymied Doc was the lack of people. Swear to heaven the Freak Fighters were like smoke.

  P.J. stood on a gangway in front of an unimpressive dirigible, waving at them to hurry.

  “Go on,” Doc said to Lily. “I need a second with Jasper.”

  “Is this where you lecture me about my illegal shenanigans?” Jasper asked when she was out of earshot.

  “I confess I’ve been itching to convert you,” Doc said. “But now I’m thinking I was the one who needed to change my ways. I can’t operate like you, Jasper, but I can do something to help the cause.”

  “Lily know you feel like that?”

  “She’s ready to jump in with both feet.”

  “Gumption.” Jasper glanced Lily’s way. “You got a good woman, Blue. Give it a month or so. Work things out with Tucker Gentry. Get your footing with Lily. I’ll be in touch.”

  “I have to ask, Jasper. The outbursts. Seems like you’ve got a hold on them. Is it due to that herbal smoke?”

  “Partially. But mostly it’s hard-won control. There are lapses and the fits are more intense.” He looked away, worked his jaw. “I lost control with Crusher. It wasn’t pretty, Blue.”

  Doc thought about the photograph in his pocket. That moment when he’d shared a moment of genuine affection with his brother. Much like now. He should probably return the faded image to Jasper. But he cherished that moment, the memory, and the feeling. “If there’s anything I can do—”

  “I’ll let you know.” Jasper slung an arm around Doc’s shoulder, just like that day long ago, and finessed Doc toward the airship.

  Lily was waiting on the gangway, an ear-to-ear smile on her sweet face.

  P.J. rolled her eyes. “Any day, Bluebell brothers.”

  “I know of a love guru,” Jasper said to Lily and Doc as they approached the armored gondola. “He’d hitch your wagon. It’s a half day out of the way—”

  “Let’s do it,” Doc said.

  “Bloody hell,” P.J. complained as she disappeared into the cockpit.

  Jasper winked and Snoop secured the door.

  “Shove off, short stuff!” Jasper yelled.

  Snoop grunted and moved to join P.J. in the cockpit. “Donnnae want to hear this,” he grumbled.

  “Hear what?” Jasper asked.

  He gestured to Lily. “Her wedding plans.”

  “I’m with you.” The men disappeared leaving Lily and Doc alone in a small passenger area.

  Doc smiled at Lily as the dig eased away from the Freak Fighter outpost. “I’m all ears.”

  She pulled him down onto a cushioned bench and snuggled close. “I’m thinking instead of conventional rings we should seal our vows by getting tattoos. Something that expresses our feelings. I’ll design the art.”

  “What did you have in mind?’

  “The Celtic symbol for love eternal.”

  Doc gazed into her bluer than blue eyes, marveling at fate.

  Redemption?

  Hell. He’d found salvation in an angel’s arms.

  Soul dancing, Doc angled for a slow, long kiss. “A girl who knows my heart.”

  Read on for a look at the next full-length novel

  in Beth Ciotta’s charming and sexy steampunk romance series,

  The Glorious Victorious Darcys

  HIS CLOCKWORK CANARY

  Available from Signet Eclipse in print and e-book in June 2013.

  Great Britain, 1887

  Kent—the Ashford Estate

  Since the day he’d been born (three and a half minutes later than his twin brother), Simon Darcy had been waging war with time. He had either too much of it or not enough. Somehow his timing was always off. Bad timing had cost him much in his thirty-one years. Most recently, his father, Reginald Darcy, Lord of Ashford.

  The proof was in his pocket.

  Simon didn’t need to read the abominable article—he had it memorized—yet he couldn’t help unfolding the wretched newsprint and torturing himself once again. As if he deserved the misery. Which he did.

  The London Informer

  Jan’uary 5, 1887

  MAD INVENTOR DIES IN QUEST FOR GLORY

  The Right Honorable Lord Ashford, lifelong resident of Kent, blew himself up yesterday whilst building a rocket ship destined for the moon. Ashford, a distant cousin of the infamous Time Voyager, Briscoe Darcy, was rumored to be obsessed with making his own mark on the world. Fortunately for the realm and unfortunately for his family, Ashford’s inventions paled to that of Darcy, earning him ridicule instead of respect, wealth, or fame.

  Simon’s gut cramped as he obsessed on the article that had haunted him for days. For the billionth time, he cursed the Clockwork Canary, lead pressman for the Informer, as heartless. The insensitive print blurred before Simon’s eyes as his blood burned. Instead of tossing the infernal sensationalized reporting of his father’s death, he had ripped the article from the London scandal sheet, then folded and tucked the announcement into an inner pocket of his waistcoat, next to his tattered heart.

  For all his guilt and grief upon learning of his beloved, albeit eccentric, father’s demise, Simon had stuffed his emotions. His mother and younger sister would be devastated. Especially his sister, Amelia, who shared
their papa’s fascination with flying and who’d lived and worked alongside the old man on Ashford—the family’s country estate. For them, Simon would be a rock. As would his ever unflappable twin brother, Jules.

  Simon had made the trip from his own home in London down to Kent posthaste. He’d remained stoic throughout the constable’s investigation of the catastrophic accident, as well as the poorly attended funeral. He’d even managed a calm demeanor whilst listening to the solicitor’s reading of the will—unlike his dramatic and panic-stricken mother. Although upon this occasion, he could not blame the intensity of her outburst.

  The Darcys were penniless.

  Simon and Jules had their personal savings and fairly lucrative careers, but the family fortune was gone, and as such, Ashford itself was at stake.

  Even after sleeping on the shocking revelation, Simon couldn’t shake the magnitude of his father’s folly. His mind and heart warred with the knowledge, with the implication, and with the outcome. Because of Simon’s ill timing and arrogance, his mother and sister were now destitute.

  “Do not assume blame.”

  Simon breathed deeply as his brother limped into the cramped confines of the family dining room. “Do not assume to know my mind.”

  “Has grief struck you addle, brother?” Dark brow raised, Jules sat and reached for the coffeepot. Like their father, the Darcy twins had always preferred a brewed coffee over blended teas.

  Simon flashed back on one of his father’s quirky inventions—an electric bean-grinding percolator—which might have proved useful except, as a staunch Old Worlder, their mother had refused to allow Ashford to utilize electricity.

  Destitute and living in the Dark Ages.

  Riddled with emotions, he pocketed the blasted scandal sheet and met his twin’s steady gaze. But of course Jules would know his mind. The older brother by mere minutes, he always seemed to have the jump on Simon. Even so far as guessing or knowing his thoughts. Simon was often privy to Jules’s notions as well, and sometimes they even had what their little sister referred to as “twin conversations.” Whether spurred by intuition or some bizarre version of telepathy, they often finished each other’s sentences. It drove Amelia mad.