Magnificent Devices 01 - Lady of Devices

landau’s shiny exterior, sliding off in a cacophony of frustration.
    She did not stop to check the damage—or to look both ways at the corner. Behind her, a window broke with a crash and she heard Gorse’s distinctive voice turn the air blue as he mounted his resistance. The landau careened into Belgrave Square, causing a pair of roans to shy and paw the air while their coachman shouted obscenities at her, and she swung a quick right, heading for Cadogan Square and Emilie’s house. She did not stop at Lowndes Street either, rocketing across it with the throttle wide open and the speed indicator buried at the bottom of its arc.
    Heart racing, hands shaking so badly she could hardly grip the steering lever, she slowed to a respectable ten miles per hour in Cadogan Square and coasted to a stop in front of Number 42. After she set the brake and climbed down, she paused. She didn’t like to leave the landau in the open street. First order of business was to secure safety with Emilie, she thought as she marched to the door. The second thing would be to find a place in the stable to hide it before some stray looter recognized it and they brought the hounds of hell down on the Fragonards.
    A maid answered her ring. “Good evening, Gwennie. I’m here to see Miss Emilie on a matter of extreme urgency, please.”
    The maid invited her into the hall and vanished upstairs. A moment later she heard the sharp sound of a voice, quickly muffled, a door slamming in the far reaches of the house, and then the swish of skirts descending the staircase.
    “Lady Claire,” Mrs. Fragonard said from the final turn of the staircase, in tones so civil they practically cracked and shattered on the marble floor.
    Claire looked up. “Mrs. Fragonard, I apologize with all my heart for descending on you like this, but I must see Emilie.”
    “On what errand?”
    Claire paused and looked at her more closely. Emilie’s mother had never been a beauty, but she had a kind heart and Claire had been a guest at her table many times. What was the reason for this carefully schooled neutrality of feature? This coldness of tone?
    “I’m afraid I find myself at your mercy, ma’am. It seems that a host of—of investors have taken it on themselves to importune an empty house, and I’m unable to go home this evening. I have my trunk with me, and I was hoping to beg your hospitality just for tonight.”
    Not a very gracious speech, but it would have to do. In her memory, Claire heard her mother’s opinion of it. Well, her mother was safely in Cornwall and only a fool would have stood on the step begging the rioters not to make such a fuss.
    “My hospitality? After the snub your family dealt my daughter?”
    Claire stared at her, lost. “I’m sorry?”
    “Do not imagine I don’t know how difficult it was to obtain Lady St. Ives’ permission to invite Emilie to your graduation party.”
    Claire’s mouth opened and closed. Then she took a breath and tried again. “Ma’am, I assure you no offense was meant by my mother, and I was very glad to see Emilie there. She has been a wonderful friend to me, especially during these past weeks. I beg you accept my apology for anything my family may have done.”
    Even this pathetic but sincere appeal had no effect. “What they’ve done? You obviously have no idea how much the Arabian Bubble has cost this family, young lady.”
    Claire’s eyes widened. “You invested, too?”
    “We did, and now we are paying for it. I am no penniless rioter, however. If I were, I would also be tempted to, as you say, importune an empty house.”
    “Mrs. Fragonard, please—if you’d just let me speak to Emilie—”
    “Emilie is unable to receive guests at present. I have no personal animosity toward you, Lady Claire, but your parents have my undying disdain. I cannot let my daughter retain her connections with such a family. In this day and age, it is too dangerous. Good evening to you. Gwennie will see you out.”
    Mrs. Fragonard, who had not left her lofty perch on the staircase, turned and made her way up it again. When the maid opened the door, Claire passed her like an automaton. Even when she heard a frantic pounding on one of the upstairs windows, she did not look up. She could not. If she met her friend’s eyes, she would break down in the middle of the street, and there was no time. She simply ignited the landau and released the brake.
    Yet another sin to lay at her father’s door. Her mother’s too,