Beauty and the Clockwork Beast

by Nancy Allen Campbell

  “I insisted,” Lucy said to Eustace. “I didn’t want to miss a moment of the festivities.”

  “Yes, yes!” Eustace guided Lucy into the house where a squeal of delight echoed from the high ceiling in the foyer.

  Candice flew down the stairs and grasped Lucy’s hands, pulling her forward in an ebullient hug. “What a delight you’re here early!” she said, her eyes shining in her beautiful face. “I’ve made certain to place you in the chamber nearest mine so we won’t lose a moment of fun!” Her gaze widened when she spied Daniel. “Oh, hello, what a pleasure it is to see you again.”

  Lucy cast a confused glance at her brother and motioned him closer. “Miss Candice Charlesworth, my brother, Mr. Daniel Pickett. Owner of Picket Airships.”

  Candice placed a hand on her chest. “We’ve met once before. When we happened to visit Blackwell at the same time.” She fluttered her fingers at Daniel, who clasped them with a light bow.

  “A pleasure,” he said, although Lucy was fairly certain it was anything but. Her brother despised clinging, simpering debutantes.

  The young woman’s gaze remained on Daniel, and Lucy figured her brother would find himself cajoled into more than one dance at the next day’s ball. Candice embraced Lucy again and squeezed tight in her excitement. Lucy winced and stifled a groan as she caught Daniel’s eye over Candice’s shoulder. He shot her a look that promised future retribution.

  “Candice, really, do give the lady some room to breathe.” Arthur entered the hall with a smile. “Clearly, we do not often host celebrations.” He reached Lucy’s side, and when she took his offered hand, he bowed over it with a soft kiss on her knuckles.

  Lucy felt the warmth of Miles’s hand at the small of her back, and she knew as Arthur straightened and looked over her shoulder that Miles was sending his cousin a very thinly veiled message. His hand slid around her waist to rest comfortably on her hip, and Arthur’s gaze flicked to it before he brought his attention back to Lucy’s face with a smile.

  “I do hope you will save a dance for me,” he said. “We were interrupted last time.”

  Lucy fought to keep the smile fixed to her face as she felt Miles tense. Arthur couldn’t have been clearer in his intentions than if he’d thrown a glove at Miles’s feet.

  “Well, then!” Candice broke the awkward moment and pulled Lucy toward the center of the hall. “Let us all make our way to the parlor. Winston has made some delightful refreshments for us to enjoy. And Mr. Pickett, do not even think of trying to escape. You simply must join us.”

  “Where are Kate and Jonathan?” Lucy unbuttoned her traveling coat, handing it off to the butler, who balanced a growing heap of outerwear to hang in the cloakroom.

  Candice’s brow creased. “They are resting. I’m afraid Kate was tired from their travels.”

  The hall was full of servants running to and fro, delivering luggage and taking orders from Eustace. Lucy felt a light ache settle behind her eyes. “Kate hasn’t seen Daniel for several weeks. I’m sure she will want to join us,” she told Candice.

  Arthur shook his head with a frown. “We extended an invitation earlier, but Jonathan was firm that we leave Kate in peace. Jonathan mentioned he was feeling a bit under the weather himself.”

  Something wasn’t right.

  “What is it?” Miles’s voice was low, next to her ear.

  She smoothed her expression when she noted both Candice and Arthur watching her closely. Sam had made his way to them and, glancing first at Lucy and then at Miles, turned his attention to Candice. “The parlor, you said? Excellent! I am absolutely famished.”

  Candice beamed at him and took the arm he offered, and they led the way to the evening refreshments while Lucy wondered if Kate’s problem was due to those who lived at Charlesworth House or the husband who’d brought her to it.

  Daniel touched her arm and motioned upstairs. “I’ll find her. If there’s a problem, I’ll send immediately for Sam.”

  The night passed uneventfully, which allowed Miles to breathe a sigh of relief the next morning at breakfast. Lucy had insisted she would not retire for the evening until she had a chance to visit with Kate, even though Daniel had joined the group in the parlor after scouting the guest rooms on the second floor and had told Lucy that Kate was well enough, if not a bit tired.

  When Jonathan had offered to take the bedchamber designated for Lucy so that Lucy could stay by Kate’s side, Miles had been beyond grateful. After all that had happened, there was no possibility he would allow Lucy to sleep alone in her own chamber. He had been prepared to cause a scandal by sleeping on the floor of her room with the door open if need be, but Daniel had shot daggers at him with his eyes, and Sam had talked him out of it. Jonathan’s solution had been perfect, and their hosts seemed to accept the reasoning that Lucy and Kate needed to catch up on all the latest gossip.

  Oliver was to arrive within the hour, and Miles was glad for the support from his friends. His impatience at the intrigue his life had encountered was at its zenith, and he wanted nothing more than to make Lucy officially his before God and country, take her home, and not receive visitors for at least a week.

  It had been an odd realization as he’d awoken that morning and dressed for the day that he’d been thinking of Lucy as his bride for quite some time; he had just never acknowledged it to himself. The fact that he’d put her in the countess’s chambers ought to have been his first indication that his subconscious was traveling down roads he wasn’t even aware existed. And now that he was healthy with the new heartclock and knew that Lucy held him in tender affection despite his obvious flaws, he had allowed himself to dream of a future with her.

  As soon as the last breakfast morsels had been swallowed, Lucy had been spirited away with Kate, Candice, and—heaven help them—Eustace to prepare for the “Event of the Year!” He rolled his eyes at the thought. He needed some air. Charlesworth House had always been stifling to him; even as a child, he had dreaded the mandatory familial visits to the place.

  Perhaps he had absorbed his mother’s reaction to her sister-in-law. Miles had always known his mother was ill at ease with the Charlesworths, although he had never discerned the reason. He supposed his aunt’s cloying company was reason enough. Even still, his mother had been lovely and vivacious. A more mature, polished version of Marie, really. And Eustace had always seemed to resent the fact that her brother and family retained the home in which she’d been raised but not allowed to inherit.

  Miles made his way down to the main floor and exited through a back door to the grounds outside. He drew his collar against the cold, the winter air having fully descended upon the northern climes. He walked along a path that twisted through tall shrubbery until the house was out of sight.

  He knew that before long he would find himself in a maze, a groomed, life-sized monstrosity where he and Marie once spent several terrifying hours lost as children. Their mother had finally found them—or rather, they found her by listening to the sound of her voice. It wasn’t unlike the way Lucy had found him in the maze of his own misery and how she’d led him into hope and light. His mother would have liked Lucy, he decided. It was fairly clear that Marie did.

  They would survive the infernal ball, he would have Oliver place ­every resource at his disposal to discover the identity of not only the murderer but the one who stalked him, and he would have a life with Lucy or die trying.

  Kate sat at the vanity in the bedroom, and Lucy toyed with a curl that had fallen from her cousin’s coiffure. Biting her lip, Lucy looked at Kate’s reflection in the mirror and fought with her emotions, trying to keep the worry from her face. Kate was pale, alarmingly so, and under her eyes were dark smudges that face paint didn’t entirely disguise.

  “It is the curse,” Kate whispered as she stared at her reflection. “The Bride’s Curse.” Her eyes widened, and she met Lucy’s gaze in the mirror. “You mustn’t fall in lo
ve with Miles! You will be next, Lucy!” She turned in her seat and clasped Lucy’s hand. “I’ve seen how you are together. He adores you; it is in his eyes.”

  Lucy shook her head and forced a bright smile. “Silly. There is no curse. Someone wishes you ill, and we are going to discover who that person is before we leave this place. You are certain you felt well in Bath?”

  Kate nodded, her eyes filming over. “I felt nearly my normal self by the time we left to come here.”

  “And you ate dinner here last night?”

  “I wasn’t hungry. I had a cup of tea.”

  “And who served it to you?”

  “Jonathan brought it up from the kitchen.”

  Lucy frowned. “Who made the tea, do you know?”

  Kate shrugged. “I don’t think he did it himself. He was also feeling ill last night.”

  “Have you noticed anything odd about the ’tons? Their behavior?”

  Kate shook her head, clutching Lucy’s fingers tightly. “Other than a scramble to reprogram one that had gone faulty. The problem must be spreading from Blackwell.” She offered a weak smile.

  Lucy narrowed her eyes in thought. “And you arrived early yesterday afternoon—two hours before you were expected . . .” She shook her head and knelt down, rubbing her hand softly across Kate’s knuckles. “We can leave now, Kate, this very moment. I’ll take you home, and we will get you well.”

  “I can’t,” Kate whispered. “I cannot leave Jonathan. He is my life and I, his. Let us get through the ball tonight and then in the morning we will discuss the future. It is probably time we consider moving to Jonathan’s property in the country.”

  “Something is very wrong in this family, Kate.” She didn’t tell her cousin that she suspected whomever was poisoning her was also likely a vampire in hiding. A tear slipped from Kate’s eye, and Lucy thumbed it away, her resolve settling firmly in place. “We leave tomorrow, my dear, come hell or high water, and you and Jonathan will move from Blackwell Manor.”

  Lucy stood and straightened her skirts. The dress she’d chosen to wear to the ball was a beautiful satin-and-velvet affair, ice-blue in color and trimmed with delicate pearls. It was a suitable counterpart to Kate’s lovely white ensemble that, to Lucy’s alarm, hung more loosely on Kate’s frame than it should.

  A maid came bustling into the bedroom after a perfunctory knock at the door. “The folks are gatherin’!” the young woman said as she drew the drapes over the darkening evening sky and stoked the fire. “And don’t ya both look lovely! Will ya be goin’ down right away, then?”

  Lucy looked at Kate, who mustered a smile. “You wait here,” Lucy told her. “I’ll find Jonathan. He should escort you down.”

  Kate clasped Lucy to her in a tight embrace.

  Lucy willed herself not to cry. “We will fix this, Kate,” she whispered. “I will not leave you until you are safe.”

  Kate nodded, her head bumping against Lucy’s. Lucy kissed her cheek, and, with a quick squeeze of her shoulders, left the room in a rustle of fabric, her shoes clicking on the floor. She made her way to Jonathan’s room and knocked; he answered, fumbling with his cravat and looking harried.

  “May I?” She smiled in spite of herself.

  “I detest these sorts of things,” he told her with a scowl. “I am here only for Kate’s sake. Were it not for her image, I would have politely declined.”

  Lucy reached for the ends of Jonathan’s cravat and began folding and twisting it into submission. “You’re a good man,” she said.

  “I do try,” he said. Lucy nudged his chin higher for better access to his neck.

  The family resemblance to his brother was uncanny, but Jonathan had a softer edge to his whole being that reflected his gentler nature. She wondered about the terms of the shape-shifting legacy, and whether or not it affected more than just the oldest son. She assumed Kate would have told her if Jonathan were a werewolf, but perhaps not.

  She wished there were telltale signs of Vampiric Assimilation Aid use. A vampire she could spot easily at thirty paces. One using Assimilation? That was the beauty of the drug for the user and the detriment of it for everyone else. The undead appeared as alive as the living.

  If she had to go strictly by her feelings and intuition, she would comfortably state that she didn’t believe Jonathan to be the one trying to kill Kate. Besides, she figured he could have killed Kate easily in Bath, had that been his intention. He could have told them that Kate had fallen ill and died and that he had been helpless to prevent it.

  “There.” She smoothed the cravat down against his dress shirt and gave it a final tap. “Kate is waiting for you.” She paused. “I believe it would be in her best interest to leave in the morning. She doesn’t look well.”

  Jonathan nodded, his face grim. “I am concerned. It is like she has fallen ill just from being in this house.”

  Lucy looked down the hallway and back again at Jonathan. “Keep her away from these people,” she murmured.

  Jonathan stared at her before nodding once. “You’ve also been hurt,” he said with a nod at her splinted wrist. “I urge you to take care yourself.”

  “Of course. Now then, your bride awaits. Place a smile on your face for her sake.”

  He managed one, albeit weak.

  The corners of her mouth twitched in response. “That will have to do. I don’t suppose I need to suggest you remain attached to her side at all costs?”

  Jonathan took a deep breath and turned, saying over his shoulder as he walked, “I fully intend to.”

  Lucy watched from the shadows as Jonathan knocked on the bedroom door and then bowed when Kate opened it. She heard her cousin’s laugh and then watched as the couple walked toward the main staircase, Jonathan’s arm firmly about Kate’s shoulders.

  Lucy remained in the empty hallway for a moment, formulating a plan. Kate had fallen ill upon her arrival at the house the day before, and, to Lucy’s knowledge, the family were the only ones in residence. Sam had arrived with her and Miles, and Oliver had arrived only that morning. She felt some relief at being able to cross Miles’s friends off her suspect list.

  That meant that at some point as the evening progressed, Lucy needed to examine three bedrooms in secret. She had a vague notion of what she might be looking for, but she wished she didn’t feel as though she were charging headlong into something about which she knew precious little.

  “Where are you now, Marie?” she muttered quietly, half expecting the woman in red to appear. “I could use your help.” When she didn’t appear, Lucy sighed heavily and made her way down the hall. How she was going to escape the notice of not only her hosts but Miles as well was anyone’s guess. She would put in an appearance, make an excuse of some sort, and then do a little exploring.

  Of one thing she was certain—she wasn’t going to leave Charlesworth House until she knew who was poisoning her cousin.

  Miles stood just outside the ballroom entrance, every muscle and sinew tense, his nerves stretched raw. There was something in the air, something not quite right, and he was frustrated by his inability to pinpoint it. He’d never believed there would come a time when he wished he could shift, if only for a moment, to see if he could detect the problem with more accuracy. But running through his brother’s wedding celebration as a wolf might put a bit of a damper on the occasion for the happy couple, so it was probably a good thing he was unable to shift at will.

  He looked at the couple in question, who also stood in the hallway, waiting to be announced to the gathering crowd. Kate was clearly unwell. She leaned against Jonathan and tried to smile but looked as though she’d rather dissolve into tears. Jonathan held her close, now and again closing his eyes and placing a soft kiss atop her head.

  Lucy had the right of it. She’d mentioned it to him earlier, and he completely agreed—Jonathan and Kate needed to get far away from everyo
ne, even Blackwell itself.

  And speaking of Lucy—Jonathan had said she was on her way down, but she’d yet to make an appearance. His blood hummed, both in worry and anticipation.

  Oliver approached from inside the ballroom and joined Miles at the doorway. “When this is finished and you return to Blackwell, I am posting guards at your property perimeter. We will see this thing finished one way or another.”

  Miles nodded. Oliver had sent the scrap of bloodied shirt and the note, along with the box they’d been delivered in, to his lab and was awaiting final analysis on the soil sample found inside the tin. It might prove useless. Odds were it was simply dirt from the hunting lodge, but there was a possibility it might show the origin of the box itself. If it had come from Scotland, Oliver had warned, it was time for a trip farther north. Miles had readily agreed; he was tired of the cat-and-mouse game, especially now that his health had returned, and with a vengeance.

  Miles’s breath caught in his throat as he spied Lucy making her way down the sweeping staircase in a gown that seemed designed to show off her every asset. She was exquisite, from the curls of dark hair piled atop her head to the stunning blue of her eyes, from the graceful line of her throat to the creamy expanse of skin that was covered enough for propriety’s sake but showcased enough to make a man’s mouth water. The skirts were full and flowing and hid a pair of legs he’d seen in breeches and knew all too well were perfection itself.

  He glanced at Oliver, who stared at Lucy before recovering himself and closing his mouth. Oliver offered a shrug and the hint of a smile and then clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck, old man.” He returned to the ballroom with a chuckle.

  She approached him, moving gracefully, if a little slowly, and he mentally shook his head at the look on her face. As if she wanted him and only him. What he’d ever done to deserve her, he’d never know, but he wasn’t about to let it stand in his way. All thoughts of encouraging her interest in Arthur had fled, and he wondered why he’d ever been fool enough to consider it.