A handful of bellmen and young boys eager to make a few cents came forward to carry luggage and belongings. Griffin noticed with a smile that none of them tried to take possession of Emily’s cat—a mechanical life-size panther. They all gasped when she powered it up and it came to life, stretching like the real thing, digging dagger-sharp claws into the sidewalk. It’s reticulated joints were well-oiled and moved silently.
“Don’t fret, gents,” she chirped in her soft Irish brogue. “She’s no danger.” Not unless one of them tried to hurt Emily. Of course, she had Sam for protection, as well. Griffin would rather take on the cat than his best friend.
They filed into the hotel lobby, which was just as grand as the exterior. Griffin spoke to the man at the desk, who was clearly impressed at having a duke as a guest. America might have separated from England over a century earlier, but a title and a fortune were still cause for celebrity. The man gave him keys for four rooms. Certainly it would have been more economical to share, but they had separate rooms in London, so it seemed only right to have them here, as well—especially since it was the only way they could escape each other, if they wanted.
They had to take two lifts to their floor—an operator, the four of them and Emily’s cat in one, their belongings in the other. Being inside the small box, packed tightly with his friends, made Griff feel as though someone sat upon his chest. He clenched his hands and tilted his head back and closed his eyes, trying to force himself to remain calm. Soon they would be at their floor.
A soft hand curled around his fist, loosening his fingers so they could twine with hers. He lowered his head, opened his eyes and found himself gazing into eyes the color of warm honey, framed by thick, dark lashes.
Finley.
Suddenly, he was breathless for an entirely different reason. She smiled but didn’t speak. She simply stood there beside him, holding his hand as they slowly climbed to their destination. Griffin wanted to reach up and touch the streaks of black in her tawny hair. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, pull her close, lower his head and…
The bell chimed. They had reached their floor.
And just in time, too, because he had started to lean toward her.
The operator opened the sliding doors and bid them good-night. Griffin slipped him a tip for his trouble and was gifted with a grin and doffed hat in return.
After divvying up the keys, each of them went to their room so that their belongings could be taken inside. Griff peeled more notes from his money clip and pressed them into the eager hands of the boys who had brought their luggage.
His room was spacious and as luxurious as he expected, with a plush carpet, large, comfortable-looking bed and heavily draped windows, which afforded a spectacular view of 5th Avenue. He went to one of those windows and gazed out. New York looked like someone had captured the stars and dragged them down to Earth.
It was late, and he wanted to be up early so they could visit the jail and talk to Jasper—or talk to someone about Jasper. He would do whatever he could to help his friend, even buy his freedom, if necessary. There was no way he was going to allow Jasper to hang for a crime Griffin was certain he didn’t commit.
It was that worry hanging over him that kept him standing rather than undressing for bed as he ought. Instead he gave in to his restlessness and turned on his heel. Unpacking would wait.
Griffin closed the door behind him and quickly crossed the corridor to knock on the one opposite. He raked a hand through his hair as he waited, then he heard the sharp clunk of the bolt and the heavy wood opened.
“You should have asked who it was,” he cautioned. “I could have been anyone.”
Finley smiled as she pulled the door fully open. She looked as tired as he felt. Still, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. “I knew it was you. I heard you leave your room.”
Of course she had; she had that bloody sensitive hearing of hers. She was more than capable of defending herself, too. He just worried about her. She was far too reckless and confident at times. It would kill him to see her get hurt.
He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as she stepped back to allow him inside. It was set up much like his own, only with a different view, as her windows overlooked 34th Street.
“I thought maybe you might be interested in taking a walk,” he said, glancing around the room. She had already opened her luggage and begun unpacking. It was a little disconcerting, seeing her underthings, even though they were stacked in an open drawer. He looked away. “Those are lovely flowers.”
Finley glanced at the bouquet of cream tea roses on the dresser. “They were here when I came in. I assumed they were part of the décor.”
“I don’t have any in my room.” He took a closer look. “There’s a card.” He plucked the folded card stock from the blooms and offered it to her.
Frowning, Finley took it. “Perhaps it will tell us who they belong to.” But as soon as she opened the card, Griffin knew the answer. She looked surprised, pleased and perturbed, all at once.
“They’re from Dandy, aren’t they?” He didn’t really need her to respond. Who else would send her flowers? Not him, obviously.
She nodded, clearly bewildered. “How did he even know where to find me?”
Griffin shrugged and tried to look as though he didn’t care. “It would be easy to ascertain that we had left and for where. Then all he had to do was contact hotels.”
“Still, I don’t know why he’d bother wasting the time.”
“Don’t you?” Griff studied her face closely. “Surely you know he has feelings for you.”
Finley blushed. “We’re friends.”
As he ran one of his fingers along the petal of a rose, Griffin’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Perhaps you ought to enlighten Mr. Dandy as to that.”
“Do you believe I’ve led him on?”
He choked on a bark of laughter. “You spent the night at his house. Could you blame him for making assumptions?”
Hands fisted on her hips, Finley glared at him. “And I live with you. What assumptions have you made, Your High and Mightiness?”
He should have stayed in his room. “None. I know better then to assume anything where you are concerned.”
Instead of placating her, it only made her frown deepen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Griffin shrugged. He couldn’t win. “Nothing, Finley. It means nothing. I’m sorry I bothered you. Good night.”
He moved to the exit and had just wrapped his hand around the brass knob when a hand slapped flat against the door. He turned the knob and pulled, but the door refused to budge—she was that strong.
Slowly, Griffin turned his head toward her, his temper and his power rising. The runes tattooed on his neck and shoulders to help him focus his abilities warmed and tingled. Only Finley had the ability to get under his skin like this. She made him think and act like an idiot. “Don’t make me blow this thing off its hinges,” he said, voice low.
Her eyes sparkled with disbelief, taunting him. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. Not like I can’t afford to replace it.”
“Where would you expect me to sleep in the meanwhile?”
“I’m sure I can think of someplace.” Yes, he could. As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back. Heat crept up his cheeks.
Finley’s lips parted on a soft gasp, and he noted with some pleasure that her cheeks darkened, as well. He also noticed that she did not immediately drop