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

Chapter Twenty-Two

B y the time the sun had risen, Griff found himself hovering over Lou in his breakfast room as he waited anxiously for some clue as to whether this whole situation was over—or not. “Lou, let me pour you another cup of tea with honey.” He rose and walked to where Higgins had left the tea service.

“Griff, please. No more tea.” She pressed a hand to her throat as she spoke.

He stopped and looked at her, feeling the compulsion to do something. Anything . He pulled out his pocket watch and opened it. Lou had said Holt would be along this morning with an update. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what time she’d said he’d come.

Lou smiled patiently. “The waiting is always the hardest part.” Her voice came out raspy, closer to a whisper than her normal speaking voice, the painful aftermath of her nearly being choked to death the day before.

Griff tilted his head slightly to one side. “What do you mean?”

“The waiting. The stillness of it, while you wait for a mark to show himself. Ninety percent of being an assassin is patience. For me it was a hard won lesson. In my early days I nearly managed to get myself killed by impatience on more than one occasion.”

He flinched. “I cannot imagine you ever being bad at what you do. Though come to think of it, I did have to rescue you yesterday.” He stood there his fingers twitching uncontrollably with the need to move. To take action. To do something .

Lou snorted. “I never said I wasn’t good at what I did—I said I was impatient. I was still quite effective, I simply drew more notice than a good assassin ought, or I wound up fighting the mark instead of making a clean kill. And I will again remind you that I had rescued myself—or near enough—when you showed up.”

Her obvious indignation had Griff stopping again. It was an odd thing to discuss killing people, as though he’d just told her she did a poor job of a waltz. “When did you say Holt would be by again?”

The clock in the hall struck ten just as a knock sounded at the door.

“That should be him.” Lou rose, a picture of serenity despite her recent adventures.

A moment later, Holt appeared, looking grim-faced. Griff’s stomach dropped.

“Oh, I dare say you haven’t good news.” Lou’s facade cracked ever so slightly.

“No. Sir Francis was collected at the Isle of Wight air-port, hauled down to the ground, and back to London. He should arrive in a few hours by steam-car.”

“Well, that’s something,” Griff said bracingly.

“Yes, but my network has lost Dell. We believe he might have moved to another air-ship before the authorities arrived.” He reached out and placed his hands on Lou’s upper arms. “How are you faring?”

“Fine, all things considered. You know I detest flying.” She made a little moue that Griff found entirely too enticing. “And I shall be forced into high-necked blouses while my neck heals—not to mention a certain over-protective chap is shoveling tea and honey at me as though that will miraculously heal me.” She looked at Griff with warmth and humor in her gaze, despite her complaint.

“I know you have a certain aversion to flying, hence my concern. The rest you shall have to take as your punishment for running off without help.” Holt released her and turned to Griff. “And you, my lord? Keeping it together, despite the revelation about your friend?”

Griff shrugged, but continued to trod the breakfast room rug. “We’d been headed in different philosophical directions for a while now. It is unfortunate that things have come to this, but I knew when I took up the persona of the Lord of Cogs that something of this nature might one day come about. Dell…was always stubborn when he took up a cause or topic. I’d say it was the one trait that perhaps kept the three of us from being better friends. Instead, Cole and I often had to team up against Dell when debating certain ideals. Not to mention there were occasions when he got an idea into his head that Cole or I were reluctant about, it became a point of contention for some while.”

Holt nodded. “I see. Well, I hope that sense of friendship will prompt him to reach out to you soon.”

“It may. The question is, will it be to warn me off or lure me in?”

At that moment, Higgins entered the breakfast room bearing a silver salver with a letter resting upon it. Griff took the correspondence and broke the non-descript seal. He read through the terse missive once then shared it with the rest of the room.

You’ll find me at the sign of the Electric Cock. Come alone. We have things to discuss. I cannot be responsible for what happens if you do not comply.

—D

They glanced back and forth, one to the other, as Griff sighed. “Well, it sounds rather dire. I guess I shall have to go.”

“Steaming hell you will.” Lou rose in a swift move that stole his breath even as it reminded him once more just who—or what—he’d gone and fallen in love with. “At the very least we shall take a moment and strategize about our options.”

In the blink of an eye, his woman had gone from all calm repose to steam locomotive at full throttle. Griff found it rather arousing. “I suppose it need only appear that I am alone, though I dare say Dell—while handsome enough—is not particularly stupid. He would recognize either of you in a moment.”

Determination drew her face taut as Lou stood there. Griff felt certain that if he listened closely, he would hear the gears grinding as her mind whirled through possible scenarios and options. Once she seemed to have landed on something she liked, she smiled at both men. If he were honest, Griff would acknowledge that a trickle of fear slithered through him in anticipation of what she might suggest. Here we go again…

“Most people will see only what you want them to see if given the opportunity. I shall enter first, disguised as an old woman. He’ll barely consider me once before I am dismissed out of hand.”

“Lou.” Griff growled, hating her plan instantly. The woman was still recovering from her abduction, and now she wanted to parade into another dangerous situation?

She ignored him and continued. “Holt will enter through the rear, lightly disguised—a heavy cloak and low cap should suffice. You of course will enter after me, dressed as you are. I shall position myself as close to Dell as I can, but depending on the crowd it may be difficult without raising suspicion.” She paused and played with the plan a moment more in silence.

Griff had to bite his lip from yelling an objection. How could she think I’d allow her anywhere near him again? Every protective instinct he possessed flared to life, an odd sensation.

“Yes, that should work,” said Lou thoughtfully. “If I am not in earshot and things are going wrong, you will throw your drink at him and run. I am going to assume that he too will have men planted in the tavern to stop you. Be prepared for a fight. Holt will be additional help if we are stuck in a brawl. If we can make a clean break, great. If Dell truly just wishes to talk, he will be none the wiser that anyone else was there.”

Griff wasn’t particularly pleased with the plan; specifically, the part where Lou was in danger. But arguing with her would be pointless and slow him down, so he nodded, as did Holt, not bothering to voice his agreement.

“Excellent. I need but an hour to return to my home and make the change to my attire and appearance, and then we may go. Though of course, we’ll need to leave separately.” Lou was like a field marshal giving orders.

Having faced the window to avoid giving away his own plans, he simply replied, “We shall see you later.”

Lou flattened against his side and rose on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “All will be well, my love.”

“Yes, it will.” And she would be safe . Spitting mad, no doubt, but safe for all that.

As soon as she departed, Griff turned around looked at Holt. A steamy swirl of emotions churned inside of him and had him tugging at his shirt and cravat as though they were choking him.

The other man held up one hand. “Before you say anything, I can see you have something planned that does not align with Lou.”

Griff nodded. “I do.”

Holt sighed. “I don’t suppose there is any chance I can talk you out of whatever it is you’ve got planned?”

“No,” Griff said calmly. “I cannot watch her walk into danger on my behalf anymore. Finding her with a man’s hands wrapped around her throat in the air lock…it nearly killed me.”

His lover’s handler pinned him where he stood with an implacable stare. “So it doesn’t include Lou in any way?”

Griff shook his head. Not if I have any choice in the matter . “No, it doesn’t. Is that a problem for you?”

“For me? Not necessarily. She will be furious that you have cut her out again. She will likely see it as a betrayal.”

Griff considered the alternative, and determined quickly he would rather have her alive and angry than dead and happy. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay to keep her alive.”

“Very well, then. Tell me how you are going to keep Lou safe.”

Satisfied that Holt was on board, or would be, Griff explained everything.

It took a mere twenty minutes to arrive at the tavern called the Electric Cock. As one would expect in a bustling business district like Cheapside, the tavern was full of patrons of all walks of life. There were laborers, side-by-side with women who sought respite from their shopping excursions, and shopworkers taking a break for luncheon.

Determined to have the meeting over and done with before Lou could realize where he and Holt had disappeared to, Griff strode into the tavern. His former friend sat with his back to the wall near the fireplace. It was a damp day, and the fire served to dry everyone out as well as to chase away the chill that came with the weather.

A scant five steps brought him over to his onetime friend. “Dell.”

The blaggard waved at the chair across from him and winced. “Sit, Griff. You’re drawing unwanted attention, looming over me in that fashion.”

Griff snorted and sat down. Dell had always resented being the shortest of the three of them. It wasn’t enough to have brains and good looks; the man seemed to need to be the best at everything. Always the one with the right answer, or so he’d argue until he and Cole gave up on more than one occasion. “Well, I’m here. Other than trying to kill me, what do you want?”

“I want you to go away.” Dell’s tone sounded pleasant enough, but Griff had known him for many years and could hear the hostile undercurrents.

“Simply pack up and leave London? Retire to the country?” He had to be honest, that was not what he’d expected from Dell. It didn’t seem enough of a win to satisfy the man he knew—and had once considered a friend.

Dell laughed and then sputtered as though in pain, the unpleasant sound giving Griff pause. “Don’t be obtuse. I want you to pack up and leave England—forever. You will never come back and never be known as the Earl of Melton again. For all intents and purposes, you will be dead, or that will be the declaration made in seven years. Long enough to leave your seat empty and to remove your steam-mad influence from parliament.”

Now this sounded more like the man he knew. Complete victory . So he’d be alive, but dead to all who relied upon him, who needed him. “You cannot possibly think I am the only lord who is a supporter of steam technology in Parliament?”

His old friend sneered. “No, but you are the leader of the Tinker movement, even if no one else knows it. With you gone, I kill two birds with one stone. The titular head of the Tinkers will be gone, and I can start to rein in the other Tinker supporters in the Lords. None of them are so enamored of the technology that if given another means to meet their needs, they wouldn’t switch but you, though. You are one of them. One of those blasted tinkers who likes to build things and create machines that make it impossible for electricity to lead the way forward.”

Griff considered his former friend’s scrunched-up face and the vitriol that oozed off him. “And what occurs if I do not agree to leave?”

Dell looked him in the eyes, his gaze glassy in a way that one might associate with a bedlamite, but Griff suspected it was more about the pain the man was obviously in. “You die,” he groaned, on the heels of a shrugging motion that confirmed what he had suspected. Dell was in pain.

This required a moment of consideration. He was not in any way tempted to do as Dell demanded. That meant the situation had just become dire, because he also had no intention of dying today, either.

The time for action had come much sooner than he had anticipated. Is Holt in place? They had kept Lou’s suggested signal of trouble—he did not wish to harm Dell so he hoped it would serve as a distraction. And while Griff had not bothered to order a drink, Dell had a tankard sitting on the table. Griff grabbed the vessel and threw the contents of it into Dell’s face.

Unfortunately, it was empty.

In a moment of inspiration, Griff hurled the metal cup as a follow up and when he heard the thunk and a loud curse, he assumed he hit his target. He had not tarried long enough to take note, spinning and lunging toward the entrance, thankfully still a mere five steps away. Just as he was about to make the door, a large hand landed on his shoulder and stopped all forward progress. Spun back around, Griff came face to face with a brute of a man. He looked as if he had played with tree trunks in lieu of matchsticks as a child.

Just behind the behemoth hovered Dell, dancing about like an enraged rooster with a lame wing and a limp. “Kill him!”

Determined to be free, Griff punched the man in his midsection to little avail; his effort merely resulted in a throbbing hand and he was no nearer escape. Amid the hubbub they had caused, he could see Holt fighting with another man as he tried to make his way through the crowd from the rear of the tavern. Seeing that he was likely on his own, he reached down and yanked out the knife he’d tucked into his boot before leaving the house.

Lou walked into chaos. The Electric Cock was a sea of heaving bodies and screaming women, but for the moment there were only two people she cared about in the melee.

Why didn’t they wait for me?

Still furious with Griff and Holt for leaving her behind, Lou found Griff immediately as he was closest to the door. The colossus who had him in his grip looked rather amused at the whole spectacle. Lou was neither amused nor interested in dragging the display out.

This needed to end. Now.

Blades and steam-pistols were at the ready. She had gained more than a few looks as she had raced down the road on her steam cycle—after all, it wasn’t every day a woman tore through London harnessed with a dozen knives across her chest and two steam pistols strapped to her thighs.

Intent on ending things quickly, she drew her steam-pistols first. Griff was currently slicing away at his oversized assailant with a knife he’d at least had enough forethought to carry, the fool. He’d eventually cut him down to size.

Lou reined in her fury at Griff and cast her gaze around the room for the other person she wanted to throttle: Holt. She couldn’t spot him in the crush.

Dell, the root of all their issues, stood by watching intently as though waiting for something. Lou decided to end his suspense. End this, once and for all.

She took aim and gently squeezed the trigger—

And unfortunately someone knocked her arm down, jarring the steam-pistol free from her grip just as she fired. Instead of hitting Dell between the eyes, she caught the left side of his chest, possibly his shoulder. He went down, disappearing from sight so she couldn’t be sure.

Fury pulsating through her body, Lou turned and shot the man who’d knocked her arm with her other steam-pistol. He dropped the knife he’d been about to stab her with as he died at her feet.

One down. A whole tavern to go.

A quick glance to check on Griff revealed he was in trouble. The giant was wearing him down, but Lou still hadn’t seen Holt and she needed to ensure Dell was down permanently. Moving forward, she crept close enough to the behemoth to jab a long wicked stiletto just between the lowest ribs on his back. The wound would weaken him enough for Griff to finish the job and let her keep moving. After wiping her blade on her trousers, Lou shoved it back in its sheath and knelt to check on Dell.

Damn it—she’d winged his arm, and he lay passed out like the coward he was…or was he playing dead? There were multiple ways to find out. She lifted her steam-pistol and cocked it. In an instant, the man slapped the barrel away from his face and reared up to push her back.

He grunted as his weight hit her, but whatever pain he felt, from either his shoulder where she stabbed him on the air-ship or the more recent flesh wound to his other shoulder, didn’t slow him down from attacking or talking.

“You are turning into a genuine pain in my arse,” Dell spat.

Lou opted to conserve her strength and not waste her breath explaining to the fool that he was going to die and that his chatter was only going to expedite the process. They needed to either capture Dell or kill him—she’d prefer dead—but understood the value in his ability to possibly answer questions. Add to that Griff may still be more attached to the man than was healthy, and she knew she would likely try to avoid killing the man.

Regardless, they needed to end this episode. By now someone had likely contacted the peelers, so doing so before they arrived seemed prudent.

With that thought, she let Dell shove her backwards and used the momentum to keep rolling. Rotating right back onto her knees with such agility must have caught him off guard. His surprise at her dexterity made him hesitate, which Lou capitalized on. In the blink of an eye, she retrieved and threw a small knife that lodged in the meat of his upper thigh. With a growl, he yanked the blade from his flesh and stood up. Great. Now I’ve armed him.

Lou rose as well and met him in the middle of the tavern as they clashed, wrestling when a flash of movement by the back of the tavern caught her eye. Holt!

Her momentary distraction gave Dell the small window of opportunity he needed to slash her ribs then try for the other side.

Fortunately, she managed to block his second strike.

Unfortunately, with the momentum he had—increased by the drunk who stumbled into him from behind—Dell fell forward into her with his knife landing in her thigh. Lou cursed as pain radiated through her, slashing at his face with the blade in her hand causing Dell to howl as he jerked backwards, clutching his ruined cheek. She followed that up with a hard kick to his ribs, leaving the villain curled on the floor yelling in pain.

By the time she turned to look for Holt, there was no sign of him.

Griff materialized by her side. “Holt?”

“He was just here.” She strained to look over the heads of the melee. “Your giant?”

“Finally got the brute under control.”

They continued to look for any sign of their friend, but to no avail. The place remained a seething melee of bodies.

Annoyed, Lou turned to haul Dell off the ground and beat some answers out of him…but when she looked where she’d left him, he was gone.

Cogging hell.

She and Griff flew—well, he flew, she limped briskly—out of the door just in time to see Dell and two of his minions throwing an unconscious Holt into a steam-car. Dell snarled at them as he clambered into the vehicle, his words lost in the wind.

Lou found it ironic that the man who had fought so hard to suppress steam technology was currently availing himself of it to escape. With a curse, she turned to run back to where she’d left her steam cycle, but Griff stopped her.

“You need to have your wounds looked at before we go after him.”

She wanted to do a little snarling of her own, but managed to keep her retort to a crisp few words. “If we let him go, we won’t know where to find Holt.”

Griff stood there a moment watching the fading tail lights of the car as Lou desperately tried to think. Where the steaming hell would Dell take an unconscious man?

Then Griff’s eyes widened, as though a thought had popped into his head seemingly out of steam vapor. “Great Trevithick! Dell will head to Scotland. His uncle has a house there near bloody Inverkeithing ! I’m a steaming idiot.”

Lou felt the shock of the realization along with a puzzle piece clicking in place.

Griff smacked himself in the head. “I should have made the connection. The old goat is too old to be alive but too stubborn to die, and happens to be obscenely wealthy. He wouldn’t notice if Dell showed up there with a platoon of men, let alone one unconscious man.”

“Then why waste time?” Lou grabbed the man’s arm. “If Cole can give us a lift in his air-ship, we can be there waiting for Dell when he arrives. We just need to make one quick stop and pick up the girls—I can’t imagine going to rescue Holt without them by my side. Had I known you were going to give me the slip, I would have had them sit on you while I got ready for this meeting.”

Anger pulsed through her, along with anxiety for her friend, even as the adrenaline waned and her ribs and leg throbbed. Elena, Katerina, and Mary Margret would be critical to their success.

Griff seemed to consider her words, and then he offered a decisive nod. “So be it. Let’s go.”