Free Forged by Desire by Bec McMaster

Lynch.”
    “Because Lynch is all they know,” Perry replied. “This transition period was unexpected, and you’re an unknown. That will change.”
    “Mmm.” He stared out the window.
    The next stop was the Earl of Brumley’s manor. It was a modest abode, by Echelon standards, on the outskirts of Kensington.
    “Ten pounds says Brumley’s involved,” Garrett murmured under his breath as he knocked.
    “On what do you base that theory?”
    “He’s older, she’s younger. No doubt she attracts the eyes of other young blue bloods… Besides, years of experience in cases like these often prove the husband figure guilty.”
    A frown worked over her brow. “I’ll take your bet,” she replied. “From what I recall of Brumley, I don’t think he had the capacity to do this.”
    The moment they were ushered into the earl’s presence, Garrett realized he’d been mistaken. Brumley was seated behind his desk, wings of silver lining his hair. The minute they entered, he pushed away from the desk and then maneuvered his wheeled contraption out from behind it.
    The craving virus could heal almost everything, but not amputation of the lower leg, it seemed. In the working classes, mechanical limbs were often grafted in place of an amputation, but this was the Echelon. Such a thing was considered to make one less than human, part machine and therefore with fewer rights. Brumley had evidently disdained such a mechanism.
    “Lost it in the Crimea,” Brumley said stiffly, noting the direction of Garrett’s gaze. “How may I help you?”
    The man’s abrupt manner spoke of years in the military, which was unusual. No doubt Brumley had been a younger son or cousin. Not expected to become earl.
    The moment Garrett explained what they were there for, the earl’s entire mien changed.
    “I…see,” he murmured, a distant, hurt expression crossing his face. Whatever he’d felt for Miss Keller, there had been affection and respect. The earl was no fool, however. His gaze sharpened. “Who?”
    “We’re uncertain as of yet—”
    “Hence your appearance here,” Brumley said. He turned and rolled to the decanter in the corner to pour himself a blud-wein. “As you can see, the chances of me being involved are limited. At the least, I’d need servants to carry me, and I could barely travel to the factory itself without a fully staffed carriage.”
    “Do you know who might have wished her harm? Or how she could have turned up at the factory?” Garrett asked.
    “Amelia was…not the sort to make enemies.” For a moment Brumley’s countenance softened. “She was kind. Perhaps too kind. She spent most of her time involved with her charities or visiting with me. Balls never interested her. No, I cannot even fathom how she came to be in that area.”
    “Did she know Miss Fortescue?” Perry asked.
    “Everybody knew Miss Fortescue,” Brumley replied dryly. “But Amelia had little to do with her. I cannot form a connection there either, beyond a vague association.”
    After fifteen minutes, they’d gleaned what they could from the earl. He saw them to the door of his study, then paused. “You’ll tell me? If you find who did this? I should like to know.”
    And in that instant, Garrett saw not a man in a wheeled chair, but a man who could and would take revenge. A hard man with years of killing behind him. Someone who might not have risen to the position of earl through happenstance.
    “As soon as they are taken into custody,” he replied.
    Brumley would have to be satisfied with that.
    The afternoon was clouding over as they left the building. “So Miss Keller’s a saint and Miss Fortescue is a sinner,” Perry murmured. “And there’s little connection between them.”
    “That he knew of,” Garrett replied. “Why those two girls? And why the factory? How does that play into this?”
    “Time to go back to the factories then,” she said. “We need to find that connection.”

Five
    The rocking of the carriage