Why the hell hadn’t he stopped Howard? If he’d known they were leaving, he should have stopped him. What sort of Warden allowed not one but two Company agents to simply wander away?
As though reading her mind—something that seemed to be another Warden talent—the man loo fidth="1emked from Alastair to her and back again. “I didn’t find out until after they’d already left. I would have tried to delay them if I could.”
For all the good it did them.
Claire grabbed Alastair by the coat, shoving him toward their vehicle. “Get back in the carriage. We have to go after him.”
“Claire . . .”
“Get in the damn carriage!” She knew her eyes had to be as wild as a cornered animal’s and didn’t care. Robert’s killer was not going to slip through her fingers, not after she got herself captured. Spending the rest of her days in a cage would be worth it only if she could relish the specter of Howard’s blood on her hands.
Something in her insanity must have gotten through to him. He turned to the other man. “Send word to the director. Let her know we’re in pursuit.”
The man nodded. “I will. Be careful, Wolfred.” He cast a wary glance at Claire. “Miss.”
Claire didn’t wait for him to turn his back on them before jumping into the carriage. She grabbed Alastair by the arm and pulled. “Come on, we have to go!” She hit her fist on the roof of the carriage, signaling the driver to move on.
Alastair climbed in and grabbed her wrists with his fingers. She could feel the difference in strength between his hands. One was much stronger than the other. His eyes weren’t the only part of him that was augmented then. “Claire, calm down.”
“How can I calm down when Howard is getting away?” she demanded, and pounded on the roof again. “Move the damn carriage!”
Alastair pushed a button on the wall. There was a tiny ornophone horn next to it. “West toward Ayr, Tavish. We need to get to the city docks as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, my lord,” came the reply, and the carriage jerked into motion, the steam engine wheezing.
Claire released a breath. “Now he decides to move.” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. This wouldn’t have happened if she and Alastair hadn’t wasted time sparring with each other—kissing each other. She had lost sight of her purpose—vengeance for Robert—and this was the price.
The steam engine chugged faster, carrying the carriage along at a faster pace. By the time they reached the end of the drive, they were tearing along at full speed. Claire watched the ground whip past, convinced she might run faster than the carriage if she jumped out. It was idiotic, of course, but anxiety sat heavy in her chest, making her restless.
She could feel Alastair’s gaze upon her, curious and suspicious. It had been a mistake, letting him see her agitation, but it couldn’t be taken back now.
As if on cue, his voice cut through the sound of the engine and wheels. “Why didn’t Howard kill you?”
Of all the things he might have asked—such as whether or not she was insane—this was what he chose?
She turned from the window. This was a distraction both welcome and frightening. If she said k If/p>
“But you lived. He must have known you weren’t dead.”
“I would expect there might have been too many witnesses. The people in the carriage got out.” She looked him dead in the eye. “Why do you think he left me alive?”
“I have no bloody idea, but something about it’s not right.” He glanced at her and saw the glint in her eye. “Don’t look at me as though you’d like to kill me if you don’t have the guts to just do it.”
“You don’t know what I have the guts to do. Stanton Howard knows what happened to my brother—why he was killed. I’ve chased him all over Europe for the answer, and I’m not going to stop until I find him. If that means slitting your pretty throat, I’ll do it.”
Alastair had no doubt she would do just that if provoked. Oddly enough, it only served to make him like her more. There seemed to be no guile about her at all; yet he couldn’t escape the feeling that she wasn’t being completely honest with him. He really oughtn’t be so surprised that she trusted him so little. It wasn’t as though he trusted her.
“How did he look at you before he pulled you off the roof?”
“What do you mean?”
“What was his expression?”
“I couldn’t tell. He was wearing a disguise that made it difficult to discern his true features.”
“How do you know it was really him?”
“I know.”
He watched her for a moment, and she could tell he was trying to figure out whether or not to believe her. “Alastair, I may not be the brightest of candles, but I know Stanton Howard. Maybe not immediately, but I will find him. He has eyes as cold as a Siberian winter, and he is as heartless as anyone ever could be. He is a monster, and I would know him by smell.”
“By smell?”
“He often smells of stage makeup. And spirit gum. I think anyone with theatrical knowledge would know him. My brother once said he thought Howard must have been a professional actor at one time, because he is so talented with disguise.”
“And the two of you, having theater backgrounds, recognized this.”
“Yes. It’s not a common smell, though I doubt many outside of the theater would be able to identify it.”
“You do realize there’s a slight chance we won’t catch up with him.”
“We have to.” Her vehemence was almost as unsettling as the wildness of her expression. He’d seen it before when an agent got too involved in an assignment and began to make something personal out of it.
“Listen, I know you want justice for your brother, but you have to accept . . .”
“I don’t have to accept anything. We are going to catch this bastard, and we’re going to bring him to justice. He w kjusface=ill pay for what he did to Robert, and we’re going to catch the Doctor and make him pay for everything he has ever done. Are you listening to me? I did not come all this way to lose him now.”
For what he did to Robert? Damn. She gave herself away.
“What are you planning to do to him, Claire?” Alastair asked in a low, careful tone.
“Give him to Warden custody, of course.” She met his gaze evenly, praying he couldn’t see the lie in her soul. If she told him she planned to kill Howard, he’d have her on the next train to England, with an armed guard. “I want justice, Alastair. I don’t want my brother’s murder to go unnoticed. The Wardens will make certain it doesn’t.” She didn’t believe that for a moment, but he did.
“The Company won’t look fondly on your betrayal.”
“I don’t look too fondly on the Company right now, either, so that should make us even.”
“There’s a good chance they’ll send assassins after you.”
“I realize that as well. I should be relatively safe in Warden custody, should I not?” For a moment, she wondered if he knew that she had already resigned herself to her fate of life imprisonment or death. If she was going to die, she was going to make certain Howard went first.
“Yes, the Wardens will do whatever they can to ensure your safety.”
“Perhaps the Doctor will teach Dr. Stone how to change a person’s features through surgery. Think of all the spies and witnesses you could protect then. The Company would never be able to find them.”
“We’ll never find Howard if he goes through such a procedure.”
“No. That’s why we have to find him now, Alastair. We have to catch him before he gets on that ship, or he’ll be lost. And my brother will have died for nothing.” The admission, that almost complete baring of her soul, left a heavy feeling in her chest.