Free Something Strange and Deadly by Susan Dennard Page A

mother for company.
    I was so grateful when Clarence finally arrived, I practically swooned with relief. After an awkward reception, he and I left for our afternoon drive. He drove a luxurious carriage with navy bench seats. It was pulled by two chestnut horses, and today he drove it with the top folded down.
    My hat and dress were conspiring against me as we traveled past the lavish homes of the neighborhood. I was forced to constantly adjust my position lest I crush the many plaits and ruffles that adorned my gown.
    To pile on the agony, once we reached Shantytown—a collection of shacks around the Exhibition that fed off the scraps of rich tourists—the ribbon on my bonnet decided today was the day it wanted freedom. It dangled before my face in a taunting display of rebellion.
    I tried to focus my attention on the summer sun and afternoon breeze, the rattle of the wheels and the beat of the horses’ hooves as we crossed over the Schuylkill, but my pent-up tensions and fear would not be rejected so easily.
    â€œSo, Miss Fitt,” Clarence said once we turned onto a tree-lined road beside the river, “you are no doubt wondering why I invited you out.”
    I swatted the ribbon from my eyes. “And here I assumed it was my unsurpassable good looks.”
    He chuckled. “That was, of course, part of my motivation.”
    â€œOnly part?” I slid my gaze left and watched him from the corner of my eye. “Well then, the rest of your reason must be that bribe you mentioned the other evening.”
    â€œSomething like that.” He smiled sheepishly. “Quite simply, I must beg for your discretion regarding Friday night’s... um...” He seemed to be searching for the right word.
    â€œRendezvous?” I suggested.
    He snorted. “I suppose you could call it that.”
    â€œWell, you needn’t worry. I haven’t told anyone.” I fingered the mother-of-pearl buttons on my gloves. “Though I am curious why you’re so keen to hide a trip for fresh air.”
    â€œYes, well, that is my private affair.” He spoke lightly, but his eyes were hard.
    â€œAnd,” I continued, ignoring him, “why did you have that newspaper?”
    â€œMiss Fitt, you know curiosity gets men killed.”
    I grinned. “Then I daresay it’s good I’m a woman.”
    He groaned—an amused sound. “No wonder Allie finds you confusing. You’ve a retort for everything.”
    â€œNo, only for Wilcoxes.”
    He rolled his head back and laughed. “All right, all right. If you promise to keep my secrets and enjoy this drive”—he opened his hands to gesture at the sun-dappled carriageway before us— “then I will explain.”
    I blinked. Really? All it took to get an answer was a witty turn of phrase? If only it were that simple with men like Daniel Sheridan.
    â€œWell, go on,” I urged.
    â€œI sent my footman to fetch a newspaper because...” He clenched his teeth and took in a shaky breath. “Because Frederick Weathers was my friend.”
    My eyes widened. Though his response made no sense in the context of the conversation I’d overheard, it was startling news all the same.
    â€œThe man found headless?” I gripped at his sleeve. “He was your friend?”
    Clarence nodded once, his face tightening with pain.
    â€œOh, Mr. Wilcox, I am sorry.”
    He gently removed my clenched fingers from his sleeve. “Yes, Miss Fitt. Now, if you’ll please keep this information to yourself.”
    â€œBut don’t most people know? It’s in the newspapers.”
    â€œYes, but his family wants it kept quiet. Allie doesn’t read the papers, so she doesn’t know yet.” He gazed into the distance, as if considering what to say next. “And it’s more complicated than just one man... one man dying. There are elections coming up, and Frederick’s father has withdrawn from