Free Mission: Improper: London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy by Bec McMaster

she's also fairly certain that they don't belong to a knife, an animal, or anything else she can imagine. The closest she could come to explaining it was presuming it was some sort of handheld threshing machine."
    Byrnes scratched at his jaw. "Looked like teeth marks to me. What's your point? What's new about this?"
    "Think about it, Byrnes," she said, leaning back in her chair. "If this SOG had anything to do with it, then why would they kill a girl of their own class? Or kidnap an entire party full of blue blood lords? How does that affect their cause?"
    That got his attention. "Maybe Carrington knew something. Or maybe the partygoers were arguing against the status quo."
    "I did a little digging. Carrington was a vocal supporter of the prince consort before the queen overthrew him. His finances took a blow thanks to the revolution. I'd imagine that if this SOG does have something to do with the disappearances, then he'd be a prime candidate for one of their members."
    "Go on."
    "So why attack a group of people belonging to their own class? And what would a group of disaffected lords be doing tramping through sewers? How would they even know what was down there?"
    Byrnes frowned. "You're blowing holes in my theory."
    "It's a nice theory." She shrugged. "And deserves looking into. Maybe the black flag symbol is purely coincidence... but maybe it's not. We just have to put the pieces together. Which is why you need me."
    His back straightened. "Miller—"
    "The party should reveal more about this mysterious SOG." Ingrid crossed toward the screen, snagging her shirt and protective overcorset off the edge of a chair.
    "And I'll tell you everything you need to know—"
    "I'm coming, Byrnes."
    "No, you're not." He stood, tucking the invitation firmly within his pocket. "You didn't get a chance to read the fine print, but I'm not telling you when or where. I might be able to slip beneath their notice, Miller, but you're very clearly verwulfen. As far as they're concerned you're an animal, and far beneath their notice. You'll stand out like a sore thumb, and contrary to popular opinion..." He held up a finger to stall her protests. "I don't want you getting hurt because some blue blood lords decide they want to play games with you."
    She glared at him over the screen, because he was mostly right. "I'll think of a way."
    "As for today," he continued, as though she hadn't spoken, "I'm planning on informing the Moore family of Imogen's passing, and seeing if they know anything more about Carrington, or this Ulbricht fellow. What are your plans?"
    "I'd love to tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." With a smirk over the top of the screen, she dropped the robe. His eyes turned flat, his nostrils flaring as she slipped into her shortened chemise. "May the best agent win, Byrnes."
    After all, two could play this game, and Ingrid was weary of his lone wolf attitude. "Now get out, and let me wash and dress."
    "I could stay," he replied with a half-amused smile. "Button up those hard to reach places for you."
    "I could also rip your arm out of its socket," she told him mildly. "But I'm not going to. Though I am tempted."
    Byrnes wisely beat a strategic retreat as Ingrid set to thinking. Just because he didn't want her along on this mission into Ulbricht's home didn't mean that she couldn't be there.

Six
    T HE SUMMONS TO Debney's house appeared early that afternoon. Curious, but not entirely surprised, Byrnes complied.
    "Change of heart?" he called, appearing in Debney's study where the lord was scribbling something furiously on a piece of paper.
    Debney started, spattering ink across the page he'd been working upon. "Can you not use the front door, like everyone else?"
    "The point is subterfuge," Byrnes replied, resting his hip against the desk and trying to see what his half brother had been writing. "I don't particularly want anybody seeing me waltz in and out, and neither should you. I'm a known Nighthawk, and you're a very convenient