The Blushing Bounder (An Iron Seas Short Novella) Read Online Free

anything else. She would be called ‘sir,’ following the precedent set by Superintendent Hale, who had come to London from Manhattan City after being denied a position on the police force because of her sex. While she conducted an investigation, he was to keep his eyes open and his mouth closed, unless she asked for his opinion; if he could prove himself with sensible replies, she would eventually allow him to offer his opinion unsolicited. And if someone spat at her, if a passerby tried to hit her, if it looked as though a mob might come after her, she would appreciate very much if he stepped in.
    He hadn’t needed to as of yet. And though she’d also instructed him to leave any body alone, he bent her rules to verify that the woman didn’t have a pulse, and that he wasn’t leaving her injured on a cobblestone street while he waited for the inspector to arrive.
    No pulse. And considering that a gash in her skull exposed smashed brains, the reason for it was clear.
    Newberry glanced up to the well-lit window on the mews’ second-level. Temperance stood there, her fingers pressed to the glass. She’d demanded that he leave her alone, that he go perform his duties.
    She still did not understand. Above all else, his duty was protecting her, keeping her safe, keeping her alive. And he would do it, no matter how she hated him. So he watched her now, and though pain stabbed through his chest when she deliberately turned away, at least he knew she was well. He would bear anything to know she was well.
    And he would bear anything to see her get better. The shredding of his heart was the price he’d paid, the choice he’d made when he’d kissed her, when he’d offered to marry her and move her to London. But it would be worth it to see her strong again.
    If only she weren’t so all-fired stubborn.
    The huffing engine of a steamcoach announced the inspector’s arrival—a cab, Newberry noted, and she was accompanied by a young man and a boy or twelve or thirteen, one brown-haired and the other light, and both of them looking hastily dressed. Buttoned up in her inspector’s jacket and trousers, the inspector appeared irritated with them, but in a familiar sort of way. Brothers, perhaps, though they shared none of the inspector’s Horde features.
    She left them behind to pay the driver, her gaze sweeping the length of the alley before coming to rest on the woman’s body. “Constable Newberry.” She gave him a nod before crouching next to the woman. “I suppose you have none of your equipment.”
    “No, sir. I am to be issued my equipment and a police cart tomorrow.”
    “All right. I’ve called for the body wagon. We’ll ride back to the station with it.” Bending over the head wound, she drew in a sharp breath. “He was either very angry, or very strong.”
    Strong, by Temperance’s description. But the inspector hadn’t asked for his opinion or a report yet. “Yes, sir.”
    She sat back on her heels, and her gaze lifted to the lighted window. “You have a witness?”
    “Yes, sir. My—”
    “First tell me what you see, constable.” She gestured to the woman’s body. “Pretend that you have not heard anything at all. What do you see here?”
    A test, he realized. She looked up at him, her expression inscrutable, but he felt that her eyes were taking in his every thought, every emotion, looking to see whether he’d cheat and use the information he already knew. Swallowing, he studied the body.
    “She’s female, blonde, thirty or thirty-five years of age,” he said, and felt his face heat at the obviousness of that, but the inspector only nodded, as if telling him to go on. “She was likely born in a crèche, because thirty years was before the revolution, and the apparatus on her arm suggests that they altered her, as well.”
    “Not always, but go on.”
    “It’s a cutting tool. A cleaver? We might find a guild mark on her arm, and that will help us identify her.”
    “You know of the guilds