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

Chapter Fifteen

F or once, Cordelia had approved of something Lou had done when she’d moved back into her childhood home. It was a rare accomplishment, but all momentum was quickly dashed the day after the masquerade when Lou donned her trousers and coat to head out for a little reconnaissance. The weight of her past weighed far heavier than even she had expected, and escape seemed a prudent choice.

The truth was, she loved Holt—like a brother—but something in her gut told her he was hiding something from her and she needed to know what. He’d nearly slipped up the night before at the Pantheon, but had covered up his error at the last moment. The question was, what was he hiding about Griff?

Her archival research had shown Griff to be a moderate at a glance, and a steam supporter if one took a closer look. But it wasn’t enough to demand his death. There had to be more, and clearly Griff wasn’t telling her what it was. The reality was, Holt had to know because his insistence that she protected Griff simply did not align with the available facts.

Someone was lying to her.

So, ignoring Cordelia’s frown, Lou headed out on her steam cycle, letting the late afternoon sun warm her slightly despite the cool air that came as the sun began its descent. She stopped first at Holt’s home. She returned to the small house on Portman Square, pulling into the rear mews so she wouldn’t draw as much attention. Slipping into the rear yard of the neat-as-a-pin house, she looked around to ensure no one had remarked her arrival.

It took little effort to pick the lock and slip inside. I really must talk to him about his personal security . He should know better. Only then did Lou realize that if his home was so easy to enter, there wasn’t likely to be much of interest there.

True to expectation, she found little more than a few tailor’s bills—really a paltry sum compared to many other such invoices she’d seen over the years—and a few daguerreosteams of what she assumed were his family. In fact, there were very few personal effects at all. And she certainly didn’t find any paperwork related to their work. Nothing that even hinted at his employment. She stopped to consider what she was and was not seeing.

Blast him. This wasn’t his home!

This was a decoy address. Oh, now she approved, whole-heartedly. A cunning move for certain. Clearly she’d have to dig a bit harder to find his real residence.

Lou slipped out of the home and back to her steam cycle. The engine turned over with a sputter-cough common in steam-engines and she headed on to her next stop: Holt’s office in the Bureau building. She’d have to be more cautious stealing in there.

She’d visited him there once, seventeen years ago when she was originally being recruited, and since then she periodically kept an eye on his routines. He hadn’t even moved office.

Around the corner from the building, Lou parked her cycle next to another. Walking toward the side entrance of the Bureau offices, she flipped her messenger bag from her backside to her front and pulled her cap low on her brow to hide her feminine features. Most people would assume she was a boy running errands, as they should. Only on closer inspection would her rounder hips and flattened breasts be noticeable.

The building was bustling with men and even a few women as they all went about their business. It was time for high tea, and she hoped Holt had stuck to his usual schedule—one she had long ago taken care to detail and monitored every few weeks. He normally stepped out for a long early dinner, since he tended to work late into the night. Today it would prove entirely convenient for her.

In the building's basement, down a long, virtually deserted hallway, Lou found his office door, right where she left it, name plate and all. A quick turn of the handle proved it was locked. Steaming hell, of course it was locked . She inspected the lockset and realized it was not a simple keyed lock. A-ha! Satisfaction mixed with a dash of dread since his precaution seemed to indicate something of value—information, in Holt’s case—was likely stored within.

Was it possible that the key she used to lock her private hidey-hole, the very one given to her by Holt, matched the first lock on the door? She pulled the cord from around her neck and placed the bow of the key into the recessed space, just as she did on her hidey-hole. Then, with a gentle turn, a brass plate slid open, revealing a keyed lockset. She slipped the bit into the hole and felt it slip into place.

A quick glance over her shoulder assured her she was still alone, then Lou had the office door open and was inside. Ignoring the nerves that nearly had her hands shaking—she hadn’t been nervous since she was a young woman following her uncle on their first assassination—and pushing aside other such useless emotions, she went to his desk and started sorting through the open drawers.

Of course, there was nothing of interest there.

But then she took everything out of the bottom drawer and pressed along the bottom, feeling rather than hearing a faint click as the bottom panel slid back, revealing a hidden space. What is Holt hiding?

Inside she found multiple letters of introduction from Holt for various other persons, all of whom were no doubt personas he could assume. Lou snorted softly. No surprises there . False letters of introduction were a tool of the trade.

She replaced everything as it was and moved on to the wall of drawers behind his desk. There had to be something…

Lou doubted opening any of them would lead to anything of interest, so she looked over each drawer handle for indicators of a hidden mechanism. Got you. The last handle on the bottom right lifted and twisted left—and the entire wall slid up silently, revealing a shelf filled with books.

Finally, she was getting somewhere. Lou pulled one off the shelf and opened it to find handwritten notes and details on page after page. Holt’s handwriting. The hairs on the back of her nape stood on end as if warning her to set the book down and walk away—and normally she would heed such a warning, but she needed to know what Holt was up to…even if he seemed to think she didn’t. Men were such over-protective idiots at times .

Each page appeared to cover a different politician or key figure in the British landscape, be it political, technological, or cultural. She pulled another book from the shelf at random and opened it to find her own dossier inside. Lou’s stomach nearly dropped to her ankles before rebounding to where it had started. She flipped through reading bits about her life she had always thought to be private, from details of her orphaned state to her early time training under her uncle. No detail had been left alone.

A sense of betrayal wafted through her like whisps of steam. Faint, but present, nonetheless. How could he?

She should have known he would have something like this on her, but for some reason the knowledge of its existence wounded her emotionally. She found similar dossiers on her girls, Elena, Katerina, and Mary Margaret. She didn’t bother to look, as she had similar information she had compiled on them—which made her reaction to Holt’s dossier all the more irrational.

In another book she found the first page of Griff’s profile. Her gut tightened as the hairs on her nape practically vibrated. She hadn’t come here for this; to investigate Griff. She’d come to see if there was anything that might indicate why Holt was behaving so strangely.

But here she was.

Curiosity won out and Lou began to read. A few pages in, she cursed under her breath as she came across seven little words which upended her world.

John Richard Griffin, the Earl of Melton, Viscount Childreth, Baron Waldren. Also known as The Lord of Cogs.

The man she was protecting—the man she was falling for—had lied to her from the start.

A tremor coursed through her body as her breath whooshed from her body as though she’d been punched in her stomach. Betrayal . Such betrayal. Pain lanced through Lou’s chest as she drew a breath and forced herself past the initial pain. Later, she could grapple with the news. Figure out how to put the pieces of her world back together. But not here. Not now.

Furious at both him and herself for having believed he might be different, Lou snapped the book shut as the clear ring of footsteps sounded down the hallway. She must not be discovered. Placing the book back where she found it, Lou slid the wall of drawers back in place and crept to the door. She cracked it open and looked to the right where she spied not only Holt, but another man she quickly recognized as Dell, Griff’s friend she’d met at The Market with Cole. Steaming hells!

Dell’s neatly trimmed brown hair and tailored suit reinforced that he was a man of means but, Holt’s deference—or the appearance of it—reinforced Dell’s leadership position at the Bureau. What she had not considered was that Holt would know the man. Interestingly, Dell did not seem to be someone Holt particularly cared for, based on how he maintained more than a few feet of distance between them and seemed to be eager to walk away from the conversation.

Glancing to the left, Lou saw no escape. Nothing for it. She would have to brazen her way past the two men.

Fortunately, she didn’t think either noticed her as they were in a somewhat heated discussion. With time running out, Lou swallowed her fear and slipped out of the door, letting it lock behind her as it closed silently. She headed down the hall toward the men, her head down and brim pulled low, hands jammed into her trousers. As she passed, neither man seemed to take note of her—but just as she was about to make the stairs, Dell called out to her.

“Boy, hold on. I have a message for you to take to room forty two.” The extremely handsome man—who could forget his rich ocher toned skin and light green eyes—drew closer, even as she could hear a second set of footsteps retreating down the hall.

She paused at the steps and turned toward Dell just enough to not seem rude or insolent, but enough to hide her face. Or so she hoped.

He shoved a folded up piece of paper at her. “Here, and be quick about it.”

“Yes, sir,” Lou mumbled as she tried to deepen her voice.

Note in hand, she dashed up the stairs, following his orders to be quick, and found her way to the main floor. She glanced at the mundane note about a meeting that afternoon, then dumped it in a bin and fled the building. She had just turned her engine over on her cycle when she felt the weight of someone’s stare on her. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Holt hovering at the corner of the building she’d parked in front of.

He did not look pleased.

Lou shrugged her shoulders and opted not to dwell on his displeasure as she took off, nearly running down two men who may or may not have been peers of the realm.

Griff was ready for some much needed time spent lost in his laboratory—an escape from the reality of his world. And what was that reality? For a start, he was trapped in his home and unable to leave since someone wanted him dead. He and Lou had made little progress beyond realizing that he truly was not safe after their trip to the masquerade. Her usual contact had, of course, not authorized her orders, and her handler was apparently as concerned about the communications breach as Lou was. He needed a break from the insanity that now consumed his life.

For a heartbeat, Griff considered sending for Lou and confessing the truth he’d brushed up against the night before, but he hesitated. I am the Lord of Cogs. No, he couldn’t just come out with it. Guilt writhed in his gut, however, and he knew he had to resolve this. Sitting at his desk in his library, he penned a confession using his steam activated invisible ink to the woman who had stolen his heart.

My dearest Lou,

I need to tell you something that will both be difficult for me to say and difficult for you to learn.

I am the Lord of Cogs. The figurehead of the Tinker movement.

That first night, I didn’t trust you. This is a secret that I have held close for so long that it is now ingrained in me to protect it. By the time I knew I could trust you, that I knew you were someone I could unquestionably trust with this secret, it had become an awkward truth to reveal.

I cannot tell you how deeply I regret not telling you the truth in the carriage. The moment came and I simply could not say it—could not bring myself to destroy this rare and delicate thing which has blossomed between us. And yet I can only imagine upon your reading of this I shall wind up with the very same result.

I hope you may find it in your heart to forgive my weakness. To forgive my fear driven decisions. To forgive me.

Yours forever,

Griff

He blotted the page and then folded it and sealed the missive. He would hand it to Higgins for delivery later.

In need of distraction—and perhaps a bit of solace—Griff went to the fireplace and twisted the stone carving that allowed him to access the entrance to the lab. After he made his way down the short flight of stairs, he glanced around at the space cluttered with gadgets in all states of completion. Some were finished, waiting to be implemented, and others were partially completed—and of course, there were those that were mere drawings on his workbench and had yet to be brought to life.

Those were the ones that called to him in the moment. The ones that would soothe his frustrations and give him something to focus on.

Except…he was quite certain he hadn’t left his desk drawer open. Griff looked at the room more closely. As he inspected his desk and then his cabinets, he found all the locks had been pried open and his papers riffled through.

With a curse, he ran back upstairs to his library and hit the voice amplifier switch.

“Yes, my lord?” Higgins’ calm tones answered his call.

“I need a detective immediately. My laboratory has been broken into.” He cursed under his breath, worried about what may have been discovered. How had this happened?

“Lucas will be ready as soon as your message is,” Higgins replied.

Lucas was his errand boy for the Tinkers. Griff couldn’t ring the Victorian Police directly, since he didn’t wish to expose his secret workspace, but the Tinkers would send someone they could trust to be discreet and keep his private business just that—private.

Within the hour, a Detective Lancaster arrived and inspected the library entrance and the lab itself. They were just coming through the secret door behind the fireplace when Lou appeared from the evening shadows of his balcony. “Well, well, well. I see you harbor even more secrets than I believed.”

“My lord, back into the lab for safety—I shall deal with this, female.” Detective Lancaster nudged him back and drew his weapon.

“Griff, do call off your over-eager puppy. We really don’t have time for this.” Lou dropped into his desk chair, keeping the wood surface between them.

Of course, she was right. They did not, in fact, have time…especially with his letter to her sitting there on the desk. The one he hadn’t decided if he would give her yet. “Lancaster, I know this woman. You may go on about your business.”

The detective looked at him, gaze filled with concern, but soon nodded and departed the library.

Lou remained seated, and once they were alone, reclined and propped her booted feet up on his desk.

What the bloody hell is she doing? Ignoring the warning bell in his head, he looked at her pointedly. “Lou, do take your boots off the furniture.”

She ignored his request; didn’t even flutter an eyelash. “Tell me, Griff. The night I crept in here and held a knife to your throat, did I scare you?”

“What are you going on about? Of course you bloody scared me. I thought I was going to die.” Distractedly, Griff pulled the entrance to his lab closed as he waited for her to get to her point.

She dropped her feet to the floor and stood. “So you did fear for your life that night?”

“I just said as much. You damn near slit my throat! Lou, I’m a bit distracted now—I told you I like to tinker and someone has burgled my lab today. Is this something we could revisit later?” Griff growled as fear and frustration exploded inside. His lab—his sanctuary—had been violated, and now Lou was acting strangely. Asking odd questions.

Did…did she know? But how could she?

She nodded and made a snort of disbelief. “Odd, because I distinctly remember asking you if there was anything else you needed to tell me, about who might be trying to kill you—you know, after I didn’t slit your throat. And you indicated you had no idea who might want you dead. But then last night…last night you informed me you like to ‘tinker’.”

Griff stilled. He felt his face drain of blood as a coolness set in. Oh, steaming hells . Her tone and the line of questioning had a pit forming in his stomach. Now that he had stopped and was paying attention, she seemed…displeased. More than displeased. Quietly seething. “Yes,” he answered carefully. “What is this about, Lou?”

“This is about you being a steam-damned liar .” She eased out from behind the desk, moving closer to him and further away from his note, but it seemed futile at this moment. A Pyrrhic victory of a sort. “‘No, Lou. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to kill me’,” she mimicked in a deep voice and took a few more steps toward him. “‘No Lou, I’m not hiding anything’,” she said again in that same almost mocking alto. “‘I just like to tinker a bit’.”

A rather powerful sense of crushing defeat rushed up from the darkest parts of his soul. She had discovered his secret. And she was bloody pissed.

Griff was losing her, could see her slipping away with each syllable that passed her lips. And this was a disaster of his own making.

She stomped the last few steps into his personal space and then reached up. It was all he could do to control the urge to flinch away as he fisted his hands at his side to keep from reaching for her, but he refused to cower.

Yes, he’d deceived her. Yes, he knew why someone might want him dead, or at least he potentially knew why—but either way, he had no idea who it was. He was more surprised than anything when all the assassin before him did was poke him with her finger.

“You’re the bloody Lord of Cogs!” she shouted, emphasizing each word with a firm poke to the chest that he was certain would leave a mark.

A deflated little sigh escaped him. Well, the truth was out . Griff’s gut curdled. “I am. But I can explain everything—I did explain everything. In a letter. It’s sitting on my desk.”

No more hiding the truth from her. At first, it had been about safety. Would she turn on him? But then, once he’d found so much pleasure in her arms, it became about not having her look at him with revulsion…like the last woman he had courted and who had discovered his love of tinkering…

“Jane, I have a gift for you,” Griff had said as he shyly presented her the small, wrapped box.

Delighted, she’d taken it from his hands and squealed in delight. “A gift? Whatever for?”

“Open it,” he’d urged. She’d been fascinated by an automation they’d seen at the market one afternoon. It had made him believe she might accept this part of him. Given him courage.

Jane pulled the ribbon and quickly opened the box. “What is it?” she asked as she pulled the little dancing girl out of the box and set it on a table.

“It’s an automaton. A dancer twirling about.” Griff gathered a breath as she stared at it giving no hint of her reaction. He flipped the switch to turn it on. “You seemed to enjoy the one we saw at the market a few weeks ago. I…I thought you’d like one of your own.”

“Oh.” It was one word, but held a depth of disappointment. “It’s very nice.” Jane started to turn toward him, ignoring the dancing mechanism.

“I made it for you.” The words had gushed out in an attempt to win a smile from her—something. He wanted her to know it was a deeply personal gift, not a trinket he’d tossed a few coins at.

Jane’s face pinched as she gasped and stepped away from him. “You did what?”

“I made it…I tinker a bit.” Griff had nearly stumbled over the inadequate words.

“No! What are you saying? Griff, this cannot be true. You cannot be one of them!” The horror on her face said it all.

“One of them?” He was so hurt, he was having a hard time processing what the woman he had thought he loved was saying.

“One of those people…who build things. A Tinker!” Jane started pacing the drawing room, the words pouring from her mouth in an unfiltered stream. “This is an unmitigated disaster. I shall be ruined!” She stopped and faced him. “The engagement is off—we cannot marry. I cannot marry, you. Not someone who…labors. Who does things with his hands? Who supports steam!”

And she had run from the room leaving him alone in the silence, as the little dancer clacked away on the table.

That moment had confirmed everything Griff’s father had ever said to him about his ungentlemanly pursuits. Jane’s response, the breaking of their secret engagement…it had made it clear his secret needed to remain a secret, at all costs.

It would seem that no woman, not even one so unconventional as an assassin, could look past his love of technology.

“I wanted to tell you, Lou,” Griff said desperately, “but I didn’t trust you at first. You’d tried to bloody kill me! And then I found myself liking you, wanting you, caring for you—and I knew this truth would come between us. Whether it was because I had withheld it in the beginning or you would find my passion as abhorrent as every other woman I’ve ever told, it didn’t matter. I didn’t want to lose you from my life.”

Lou pulled up short at his admission, but after a moment of hesitation, charged ahead. “I won’t deal with a liar. I’m sorry Griff, but this is over. You’ll have to tell your mother we broke it off. I shall continue with my efforts to find who tried to kill you, but I shall not be doing so with your assistance. I’ve always worked alone in the past, and this—this is why. I cannot work with someone I can’t trust.”

Was that the tiniest waver he heard in her voice? Perhaps a kernel of doubt? “Lou wait—please let’s talk, I want to explain—”

“Goodbye.” And just like that, she was gone.

Griff sank into the nearest chair, utterly stunned. The most amazing woman he’d ever met had just walked away from him. Of course, his unruly heart took that opportunity to proclaim itself firmly in Lou’s corner.

Great Trevithick, could I be in love with her?

Griff sat there staring at nothing for a long time as he grappled with his realization. Then, as his eyes focused back in the library, he spotted a letter sitting on the mantel he had not noticed earlier.

What the steaming hell is that?