The Assassin’s Guide to Falling in Love (The Ladies League #1)

Chapter Five

L ou rose earlier than normal, after four or five hours of sleep. The majority of her life was spent living in the dark, so mornings—even late ones—were as foreign to her as failure. Any way she assessed things, she had failed to execute her task. Of course, in this unique situation, her failure was a boon. Or she hoped it was.

The moment when Lord Melton had pleaded with her—begging her for help staying alive—had nearly broken her right there in his library. She could finally help someone in the way she wished someone had helped her parents. That had been the turning point for her.

But she was no fool. First she needed to know what kind of man he was. To figure that out quickly, she had one place to go.

Cordelia helped her don her bronze walking dress, brown calf boots, and a fetching little beribboned miniature bowler hat. She added her plain glass filled spectacles that lent her a more studious air and departed for the Parliamentary Archives. She needed to get a better sense of the man than the limited dossier she held offered. His voting record for Parliament should offer some insight into his thinking, and possibly a clue or two as to who might wish him dead.

The Victoria Tower was an impressive edifice, by any measure. With fourteen floors of records storage, it housed both the Parliamentary Archives and the newer Public Record Office. She entered the tower and was greeted by the current Clerk of the Records, a Mr. Josiah Tugbottom.

The slightly balding man, with a growing paunch that suggested good living in an era when that was not always a given, greeted her with a jovial smile. “Miss Lamb, so good to see you again.”

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Tugbottom. You know, I still can’t help but marvel at the edifice of the tower when I come here.”

“I have the same awe each time I come to work. Did you know it only took two years from the laying of the first stone in 1843? A true testament to the power of steam.” He clearly loved both his work, and the building where he did it.

“I did not know that. How fascinating. I wonder who developed the technology that was used?” Lou wondered absently as she took in the space with a new respect.

“I heard that it was the so-called Lord of Cogs who originally developed the steam-lift that was used to raise the blocks.” He nodded importantly.

“He does seem to be a prolific inventor,” she murmured, and thought about her treasured little automaton which was supposedly built by the man himself. Shaking her mind free of other things, she tried to refocus her attention on the present moment. “Are you enjoying our unusual sunshine?”

The man chortled. “Indeed. Though I mostly see it from between the shelves in the tower.”

Lou smiled fondly at the older man. “A scholarly man such as yourself wouldn't have it any other way, I'm sure.”

“Ho! Ho! You are right, miss. Now, how may I be of service to you this fine day?” Mr. Tugbottom opened the door to the public records' room.

“I am interested in the Parliamentary voting records for the last ten years. Particularly for the House of Lords.” She pulled off her gloves as she preceded him inside.

Mr. Tugbottom led her to a private room off the main research space. The public room was a cavernous space filled with tables and chairs for parliamentary aides to do research and the like, but off to one side sat a massive door that led to the actual archives, though only Mr. Tugbottom was permitted to pass through that door.

In the smaller, private alcove, he pulled out a chair for her at the large table that dominated the space. “Would you like to start with the most recent records?”

“Yes, that should do nicely.” Lou pulled a notebook and pencil from her reticule and carefully placed them on the table before taking the offered seat. She preferred her portable fountain pen for writing, but such implements were strictly banned from archival spaces such as the Victoria Tower, and rightly so.

Mr. Tugbottom nodded then retreated. Before long, he returned with a stack of large tomes in his arms. “These are the most recent records from the last five years.”

He set the stack on the table and disappeared once more.

Lou rose and opened the book on the very top, and found it was the previous year's records. She lifted the heavy tome and set it gently down on the table before she began methodically going through the pages looking for the voting records on each bill brought before the Lords. Another stack of records appeared on her table as Mr. Tugbottom arrived once more and dropped the other five years she’d requested.

Allowing her focus to sharpen on the matter at hand, she got to work. As she scribbled in her notebook and compiled the information, a clearer picture of Lord Melton took shape.

The man supported women's rights, having helped pass the Married Women's Property Act of 1840, a radical idea, even in Victoria. He also trended toward voting in support of steam technology, though there he would be considered a moderate…and yet he clearly supported the key bills to advance their efforts. If one looked closely, and she was, the pattern was quite clear. He voted against the bills that were inconsequential to steam technology's success, but any legislation that was critical he had voted for.

Interesting . Lou continued to scribble her notes.

It was odd that he appeared to work so hard at looking like a moderate when she was fairly certain he was, in fact, an ardent steam supporter. Possibly even a member of the Tinkers. As she skimmed the records for each vote, she could see there were two or three Lords who voted in favor of every steam related piece of legislation. They had much more obvious voting records, but she would wager if she looked deeper, they were all investors in steam technology.

Lord Melton also supported bills which sought to make the common man's lot in life better. A rather uncommon perspective from a peer, in her experience. Typically those from such an elevated rank were focused on the betterment of their own lot. That, when paired with his steam voting record, pointed to his likely connection to the Tinkers—at least in her mind.

“But what would a lord be doing with the Tinkers?” Lou murmured to herself.

After spending most of the day gathering her research, she returned to The Market with a better sense of the man and a simmering fury that she had been sent to kill what was, to all intents and purposes, a decent human being. Lord Melton was a vigorous supporter of the military, yet he also believed in giving everyone a chance at a better life. He apparently saw steam as a way to do that, but trod carefully in murky political waters. Clearly, he worked hard to keep alliances on both sides of the aisle.

While her day had been spent on this new mystery she had to solve, Lou’s business still required her attention despite the fact her body ached from sitting on a hard chair all day. She may need to turn over some of her normal duties to Beatrix for a while, the woman she was grooming to take over The Market one day, just as she herself had been groomed.

As she settled in to review The Market's accounts, new contracts between members, and any other outstanding business, she mulled over the man's situation. Someone wanted Lord Melton dead: but the question remained, why? That was something she couldn’t let go under the current circumstances.

Someone had tried to use her to kill a seemingly innocent man, and she needed to understand why. The ramifications, if this came from the normal channels, was life altering. It would call into question everything she believed she was doing for the greater good.

Yes, she was a killer.

But it was a burden she took on for the crown, so others didn’t have to.

If she was mistaken in her belief that she was acting in her country’s benefit…why, it called in to question everything she thought she’d stood for. The very principles by which she lived her life. Anger and fear churned in her gut like a tempest. What if it is all a lie? What if I am just a monster who kills people? Her mind began to whirl like the wheels of a runaway locomotive as her breaths came in short, sharp panting bursts. Her heart beat in her chest like the wings of an automaton moth.

Lou pressed her hands to her desk and closed her eyes for a moment, slowing her breathing as she had been taught to do: drawing one long, slow breath in, holding it, and then slowly releasing it. She did that two more times before her body responded. Her racing heart slowed and her breathing eased. Her mind came back to a state of clarity.

In order to figure all this out, she had to trust Lord Melton—Griff. At least—to some degree. While she’d been reluctant to give him her name, she knew she could only hide her identity from him for so long. The reality was, she was already exposed if someone knew to come to The Market to initiate the order. There was no reason not to reveal who she was. At least, the version of her most of the Ton knew.

She pulled out a standard contract for The Market and began filling in their names. She would send the document with a membership coin by messenger. Lord Melton and herself could work from her place of business using a fake affair as cover. If they were lucky, their connection would go unremarked. If they were unlucky, at least she had her girls in residence to help protect both of them.

The thing she most feared—aside from someone killing Lord Melton or herself—were the emotions the man stirred inside her. She would keep her feelings out of the mix as they worked to uncover who wanted him dead.

She had no other choice.

Griff stared down at the contract and coin sitting on his desk. He'd reviewed the specifics, all of which seemed reasonable, yet he had doubts. He re-read the note that came with the coin and contract.

Lord Melton,

I am going to help you. We shall have to work together, and I believe that doing so under the guise of an affair will allow us the freedom to move about with less scrutiny. I have included a standard contract for The Market. Please review it and send the signed copy back with my messenger unless you need time to make edits.

—Lou

All he had known about the woman when she left last night was that her name was Lou. Now it seemed that not only was she an assassin for the government, who had been sent to kill him, but she was also the infamous owner and operator of The Market, Madame LaRoux.

Griff took another look at the contract with her name on it. While she seemed disposed to help him solve the mystery of who might have sent her, he still wondered why. Why was she willing to help him? Could he trust her? Could he trust anyone?

Looking at the broad strokes of her name on the page, he found himself inclined to believe her when she said she would help. But he also worried that he was allowing his physical attraction to cloud his judgement.

Because there was no question he found her appealing. More than appealing.

Griff looked at the coin for The Market once more and considered the raised design on the metal disc. An elegant woman wearing a jaunty top hat shown in profile on one side with the word ‘Member’ around the outer edge. On the other side were the words ‘The Market’ and the address, ‘140 George Street’. A well-to-do address, especially for a brothel.

The contract, apparently the standard one for The Market—which he found a bit disappointing that he didn’t rate a special one—stipulated the boundaries of their relationship.

Or was it a pseudo-relationship? A spy-relationship? He snorted.

Neither individual would engage in sexual relations with other partners unless previously agreed upon. All sexual activities were open for discussion prior to each engagement. Such attention to detail, for someone who had struck Griff as fiery and temperamental. He liked that she was that way.

His cock twitched in his trousers, but he ignored it and read on. Their connection was not to be discussed with others, except in the vaguest of terms. If he had any requests, he was to bring them that evening to discuss and add to the contract.

He had none…beyond touching her. Making love to her.

Flashes of his hands on naked skin, his lips wrapped around a puckered nipple, the slippery feel of his fingers sliding in and out of Lou's warm heat all danced through his mind. Griff groaned as his inexplicable desire for a clearly dangerous woman flared to life and caused his cock to ache. Inexplicable need had him tied in knots.

Something about her drew him, intrigued him. Perhaps it was the dichotomy of the feminine and lethal sides of the woman? Or maybe just the mystery she represented? Like all mechanisms, he had a desire to pick her apart and see what made her tick.

It was a dangerous desire.

Pushing aside his hazardous thoughts of Lou, Griff focused on signing the contract. Focused on the genuine issue at hand. Who was trying to kill him?

Tempting the dangerous woman into his bed could come later.