A Clockwork Christmas Angel Read Online Free Page A

dress was inching farther down her shoulders.
    “Mister Boucher, if you persist, I shall scream.”
    “Miss Hogarth,” his deeply masculine voice, tinged with confidence that everything was under control, soothed her apprehensions. “Do you know who gave you this arm?”
    “No, I don’t. I woke up in hospital with it before they... sent me away. Why?”
    “Because the very same man who hired me to drive this cab has his weapon factory’s stamp on your arm. It’s near your back so it’d be easy to miss even with a mirror.”
    “What?” Abigail tried to look over her shoulder and only succeeded in allowing her gown to slide a bit lower. “What does that mean?” Her mind snapped back to her situation. She was unsupervised with a man she just met and had shown him more of her than was entirely acceptable outside the marital bed. She quickly adjusted the fabric and blushed crimson.
    “I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ve never seen anyone like you, Miss Hogarth.”
    She tingled. It sounded more like interest than a casual observation. Stop it. You’re imagining things. You’re a wind-up toy, remember? She fought down her thoughts.
    “Abigail, if you please. If I must call you Matt, I insist.”
    “Abby!” Maggie’s voice rang out worriedly from the walkway.
    She looked at Matt and seeing no objection called out, “I’m back behind the carriage.”
    Maggie’s clattering footsteps rushed the carriage only to be drawn up short as she rounded the vehicle to see Abigail calmly leaning against a wheel with her arm exposed and with Matthew. “Are you all right?” she blurted, concern in her voice. “What happened?”
    “Oh, Maggie!” Abigail hugged her. “I’m so sorry! I forgot to wind my arm, and it ran down so I scurried outside—but Matt helped me wind it up again.”
    “It was no trouble, Miss,” Matt said, his voice reverting to practiced English.
    “Do you want to come back inside?” Maggie asked.
    Abigail looked doubtful. “Do any of them suspect?”
    “They suspect that your nerves are at their end after the death of your husband and that sudden noise brought on an attack. I imagine the shock has passed by now.” Maggie grinned.
    “I’m sorry, Miss Hogarth,” Matt said. “I did not realize you were a widow.”
    “She isn’t,” Maggie said. “We needed an excuse to explain her absence... wait, what happened out here?”
    “Nothing untoward,” Abigail said quickly.
    “That’s unfortunate,” Maggie quipped.
    “Wait,” Abigail said with a glance at Matt. “What do you know about the man who let you borrow Matthew and his carriage?”
    “Not much. Mr. Worchester is free with his money, has an impeccable knowledge of whiskey, doesn’t mind me smoking his cigars, and I understand he deals in silks. He often lets me use his carriage when he makes his frequent trips to Germany to inspect his supplier’s silk.”
    Abigail shared a look with Matt. Silks were leagues different from weapons.
    “I’d like to call on you tomorrow, if that is acceptable?” Matt said.
    “Certainly. I’d enjoy that.” Abigail said and, with a lingering look, accompanied Maggie back to her house.
    “Matt?” Maggie raised an eyebrow as Abigail tugged her glove down to cover her arm.
    “He’s very informal,” Abigail said quickly.
    “You showed him your arm,” she pointed out.
    “I couldn’t very well wind it myself!” Abigail retorted. “Besides,” she said in a more subdued tone, “he makes it seem like I have nothing to be ashamed of.”
    “You don’t!” Maggie said with an exasperated sigh. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along! Your arm is like nothing anyone has ever seen before. It’s amazing. Goodness, Abby, you’re amazing when you’re not being so damned maudlin. If I’d known all it took was a handsome man to say so for you to believe it, I’d have stripped him to his waist to make sure I had your attention long ago!”
    “Only to his waist?”