“Lieutenant?” Gavin asked.

“I received this from Alice Michaels a few moments ago.” She pushed a handwritten letter across the desk toward him, and Gavin picked it up.

Gavin’s heart did a little jump, and he scanned the letter a second time to make sure he hadn’t misread. “Is this . . . Is she really . . . ?”

“It would seem so,” Phipps said, and she actually gave a tiny smile. Gavin didn’t know whether to be more amazed by that or by the letter.

“Is it . . . Can the Ward . . .” He was stammering like an idiot, and he coughed hard to get himself under control. “Is the Ward willing to care for her father?”

Phipps steepled her fingers, metal piling up against flesh. “I think we can manage the care of one old man. There’s time to send her a reply by evening post, but I think Alice might appreciate a more personal touch.”

Gavin was moving toward the door before Phipps had even properly dismissed him. Down at the stables, he found a groom waiting with a horse, and, moments later, he was riding as fast as he dared through the chilly evening mist. Traffic on the streets was light, and voices were hushed. Buildings loomed over him, always hemming him in and holding him back. Gavin hated the chains London threw over him. There was no beauty here, no softness; nothing but greed and poverty and disease.

As if in answer to these thoughts, bare feet slapped brick, and a ragged woman, accompanied by a young child, dragged out of an alley, reaching toward Gavin’s horse. Plague sores wept yellow fluid. In a mixture of fear and pity, Gavin tossed the apple from his pocket toward them. The child caught it, and Gavin urged his horse to greater speed.

He rounded the corner and let his horse drop into a trot as he entered the square that faced Norbert Williamson’s too-large house. He had never visited this place, but he knew exactly where it was. It took up one entire side of the square and was part of the dull, blocky architecture that made up so much of London. The mist was thickening again, a ghost trying to keep him out of the square. Heart beating fast, Gavin tied the horse to a hitching post out front, then dashed up a set of marble stairs to the double doors. He yanked the bellpull, and the door immediately opened.

“Sir?” said the mechanical footman.

Gavin handed it his card. “Tell Miss—tell your mistress that Agent Gavin Ennock of the Third Ward is here to see her.”

“Please come in, sir. I will see if the lady is receiving visitors.”

Gavin waited in the echoing foyer while the footman stalked away. He supposed someone of higher birth or position would have been shown to a seat and offered something to drink, but as a tradesman, he was forced to stand by the door, shifting from one foot to the other.

A woman came down the big main staircase ahead of him. For a delightful moment, he thought it was Alice, but he quickly realized this woman was much older and more curvaceous. She wore a dress of black bombazine and a rough straw hat, also black.

“Mr. Ennock?” she said as she descended. “Forgive the rudeness of the abrupt introduction. My name is Louisa Creek. I’m a good friend of Alice’s.”

“L.,” Gavin said.

“Yes.”

“Is Alice all right?” Gavin asked. “What’s going on? I got—that is, we got—a letter—”

“Yes,” Louisa interrupted. Her expression was grim. “But things have changed. Her father passed away moments after she posted it. She sent a servant with word to me, and I came right over. She’s not in any condition to receive visitors right now.”

“Oh.” Disappointment dashed cold water over him. Then he took a breath and said, “I’m sorry, but I have to ask—did she say anything about the Third Ward?”

“She did.” Louisa took a deep breath, as if she had to summon courage. “She asked me to tell you that she can’t take advantage of your offer now. There’s the funeral to arrange—very expensive, since he’s a baron—and she said she couldn’t possibly leave her dear, wealthy fiancé now, though at least the idiotic elopement has been postponed. I may have embellished that a bit.”

“Right.” Gavin found he was twirling his cap around and around in his hands and made himself stop. He imagined Alice collapsed by her father’s bed, weeping while his corpse cooled in the sheets, and the image made him want to rush up the stone stairs to comfort her. “I suppose that means I should go.”

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Ennock, much as I would like you to stay.” Louisa reached out and ran a hand over Gavin’s shoulder. “Though perhaps I could offer you a ride home?”

“Uh . . . I don’t . . . I live at—”

“I didn’t mean to your home,” Louisa said.

Gavin felt his face turn hot and his feet seemed to grow overly large. “No, thanks. Just tell Alice—Miss Michaels—that I was here and she has my condolences.”

He fled the house before Louisa could respond. The fog drew its curtain across the mansion behind him as he climbed on the horse and rode sadly away.

The conductor dropped his hands, and the audience burst into thunderous applause, snapping Gavin back to Earth. He almost felt the concert hall chair slap his back. On his left, Simon d’Arco clapped with enthusiasm, his hands muffled by white evening gloves. Gavin finally managed to applaud as well. The concert hall echoed with the noise. It swelled as the conductor turned and bowed twice, then faded as he left the stage and the houselights came up.

“Wonderful,” Simon said. All around them, people rustled to their feet. “And that was just the first one.”

“Yes,” Gavin said absently. “First.”

“Are you all right? You look distracted.”

Gavin shook his head to clear it. “The music. It was just so . . . fantastic. Mozart always is. The Jupiter Symphony, especially. Let’s go up to the lobby and get something to drink.”

“Of course.”

They wandered up the aisle with the other concertgoers dressed in gowns and evening jackets. Gavin himself wore the black jacket and white tie Simon had insisted were required for anyone who held season tickets for the symphony. He had bought two tickets because no one ever bought just one and, besides, he wanted to be able to bring someone—all right, Alice—with him, but in her absence, a friend such as Simon would have to do.

“What’s so special about the Jupiter Symphony?” Simon asked as they threaded their way toward the exit.

“It’s hard to describe. The finale is the best movement. It’s as if Mozart held back all the resources of his science, and all the power, too, science and power that no one else has, and he made the music a release for both.”

Simon clapped Gavin on the shoulder and rubbed it, a familiar gesture he did often. “You’re a poetic man, Gavin Ennock. Let me buy you a drink.”

In the crowded lobby, Simon handed Gavin a glass of red wine. “I’m glad you decided to get out and about again, Gavin. Frankly, you’ve been moping around the Ward too much, and we’re all worried about you.”

“You are?” Gavin took a gulp from his glass.

“I know you have your cap set for Alice Michaels,” Simon went on, his voice low, “but she gave her final answer two weeks ago when her father died, and it isn’t healthy for you to keep on about her. There are a lot of other . . . people who could make you a happy man, you know.”

Gavin stepped aside to let pass a group of women dressed in emerald. In their hats they wore small cards that read TRUE LADIES VOTE! Had he been that obvious? He was aware that Phipps knew about his feelings for Alice, but did the whole Ward know about them, too? He suddenly felt embarrassed and unhappy, and he missed Alice more than ever.

“Other people,” he repeated dully. “Like who?”

Simon took a deep breath. “Well, people like m—”

“Alice!” Gavin interrupted.

“What?” Simon asked, clearly flustered. “No, I didn’t mean her. I meant—”

“No, it’s Alice,” Gavin hissed. “Don’t look. I mean, don’t be obvious. I mean—shit.” He turned his back and drained his glass. Across the lobby strolled Alice on the arm of her damned fiancé, Norbert Williamson. She was dressed in black from head to toe and her expression was neutral, even dull. Behind her came Kemp. His black and white paint had been freshly redone, and he fussed with the back of Alice’s dress. Norbert snapped something at him, and he stopped.

“I suppose this means she’s up to socializing again,” Simon said. He sounded disappointed.

“No point in hiding how I feel if everyone knows, right?” Gavin said. His voice cracked, to his mortification. “It kills me, Simon. It kills me seeing her with him. It kills me to think he’s with her every day and doesn’t know what he has, while I’m alone, you know?”

Simon’s expression set. “I do know. You see what you want every day, but can’t have it.”

“Yeah.” Gavin’s eyes never strayed from Alice, despite his earlier warning. “I’m a wreck.”

“I know exactly how you feel.” Simon took a deep breath and abruptly grabbed the surprised Gavin in a rough embrace. His cheek scraped Gavin’s, and he smelled the wine on Simon’s breath as the other man whispered, “I’ll give you this chance. Don’t waste it.”

He let go, and Gavin, slightly stunned, watched as Simon wove his way through the lobby crowd—

And deliberately spilled his wine all over Norbert’s shirtfront.

Norbert leapt back with an oath, and Simon made effusive apologies. Alice put a hand to her mouth in a gesture Gavin recognized. Simon dabbed at the bloodred stain with a handkerchief, still apologizing, and hustled Norbert toward the bar to ask for seltzer water. Kemp, in a flutter, went with them, leaving Alice standing alone. Gavin, now understanding what Simon meant, recovered himself and hurried over.

“Miss Michaels,” he said, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

His voice was shaking, and he wanted to hold her close, but he kept his hands at his side. Alice turned, and her eyes widened.

“Mr. Ennock.” Was that a catch in her voice? “I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here, so I won’t act as if I am. Was that your friend who ruined Norbert’s shirt?”

“Yes.” Gavin glanced in their direction. Simon was towing a stormy-faced Norbert toward the men’s room with Kemp bringing up the rear. “He made a sacrifice, and I need to use it.”

“What in heaven’s name are you talking about?”

Heedless of the crowd, he took Alice’s elbow and walked her toward the main door. “Walk with me.”

“I’m still engaged, Mr. Ennock, and I’m—”

“We’re just talking, and we’re in public. It’s not unseemly. Come on.” And then they were outside on the front steps of the theater. Concertgoers moved in and out, exchanging the stuffiness of the hall for the cool damp of the outdoors. Alice stood just inside a pool of light cast by a streetlamp, the golden light casting her mourning clothes into sharp relief, while Gavin stood in darkness, where his hair and shirt shone silver. Gavin rehearsed what he would say, formed every poetic word in his mind.

“What are we talking about, Mr. Ennock?” Alice asked, her voice soft as earth.

And all the words left Gavin, as if the darkness had chased them away. The silence stretched long and dank between them, and suddenly he said, “I’ve been studying music frequencies with Doctor Clef.”

Alice stared at him. “That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“He’s the one who discovered that every note has its own unique frequency based on the number of times the sound waves cycle per second.” Gavin was babbling now, and he couldn’t stop. “I have perfect pitch, so he’s been training me to recognize different notes by their frequencies, even though pitch and frequency aren’t exactly the same, since pitch is subjective and frequency is absolute, but Doctor Clef says perfect pitch is more correctly called absolute pitch, so maybe they’re more closely related than anyone knows.”

Alice drew back. “Gavin, what are you talking about?”

“Frequency. Weren’t you listening? Every note can be expressed as a number, a frequency. Middle C is two hundred sixty-one point six three, and if you add those digits together, you get eighteen, and if you add those digits together, you get nine.”

“Is that important?”

“I don’t know,” Gavin said helplessly. Stupid, unrelated words poured out of him, and still he couldn’t stop. “Numbers are the key to everything, Alice, even to musical notes.”

Alice stared at him. “Say that again.”

“Numbers are the key to everything, even to musical notes.”

“Musical notes. Why the musical notes?” Her face suddenly grew animated. “The key. The key to musical notes!” Now she was babbling. “Gavin, tell me—do you remember the notes Aunt Edwina played on that strange instrument just before she ran away from us at the bank? Didn’t she also make my automatons play the same notes on the airship?”

“I remember everything,” he said, and it was true. “And yes, they were the same notes both times.”

“She was trying to tell us something with them. What were those notes?”

“G-sharp, B, a rest, and a D.”

“And what frequency did each of those notes have?”

“The G had a frequency of fifty-one; the B had a frequency of thirty; the rest had a frequency of zero; and the D had a frequency of nine—so low you could barely hear it.”

The excitement on her face became plainer. “Say those numbers again.”

“Fifty-one and thirty, zero, and nine.”

“Oh!” Alice put a hand to her mouth again. “Oh, Gavin! I know what’s going on! I know where Aunt Edwina is hiding! I know, Gavin! Or, rather, I can find out!”

At last, the insane babble left him, and he seized her right hand in both of his. “Then come with me, Alice. Come with me to the Third Ward. They still want you. I still want you.”

“I can’t, Gavin.” Her face was flushed in the yellow gaslight. “I can’t just rush off with you, however much I might have wanted to. I thought I had learned what I needed to leave, but then my father passed away, and everything changed. If you hit an automaton just right, Gavin, its memory wheels reset, and it loses everything it learned. Father’s passing hit me very hard.”

“So we’re back to appearances again.” He swallowed. “Who are you preserving appearances for, Alice?”

“Everyone!” Alice protested. “Gavin, you have this idea that anyone can just fly off and do whatever he wants. But I have a traditional title now and the traditional responsibilities that come with it. I have to have a legitimate child to pass the title down to, or the title will die. And Norbert paid off thousands of pounds of debt for me—”

“For your father,” Gavin corrected.

“It’s much the same. He paid for Father’s funeral, too. And I have a responsibility to Norbert in return. We keep up appearances in order to fulfill those responsibilities to each other. You think that changing everything would be so simple, so easy, but it isn’t, Gavin. People are complicated. Relationships are complicated, and you don’t seem to understand that. We don’t always get what we want.”

“It doesn’t stop us from trying to get it,” Gavin countered. “And it doesn’t mean we should give up.” He shifted tactics. “What about your responsibility to the Crown? To the people of the British Empire? Your aunt killed dozens of men, and if you know where she’s hiding, you have a responsibility to find her and save other lives.”

“And this responsibility just happens to coincide with what you want.”

“Is that wrong? For once can’t the world work for us?”

“Oh, Gavin.” Tears welled up in her brown eyes, but her hand remained within both of Gavin’s. “You are so young.”

“And you act so old. So what? Your whole life you’ve followed logic and reason, rules and regulations, but you’re not an automaton. Close your eyes and jump. I’ll catch you and we’ll fly. I love you, Alice. It’s always been you.”

The electric lights over the theater doors flashed three times, indicating intermission was over. Most of the crowd had already drifted inside, leaving them nearly alone on the damp sidewalk. Norbert appeared in the doorway, a pinkish stain on his dress shirt. Behind him, Kemp tried to get through, but Norbert resolutely blocked his way.

“Alice?” he said. “What are you doing out here?”

Alice slipped her hand out of Gavin’s and turned toward him. “Getting some air, darling. I’m on my way in.”

“Come with me,” Gavin whispered. “Tell me how to find your aunt.”

She paused, caught between the two of them. She licked her lips. Gavin forced himself to remain still. Norbert glanced impatiently at a pocket watch.

“Alice,” he said, “we won’t be able to find our seats in the dark.”

“Madam?” Kemp said. “What do you wish to do?”

Alice glanced at Gavin, and he knew her answer. An icy shell crushed his heart as she turned toward Norbert. Abruptly she spun back and said, “I’ll send you a telegram about what I know.” Then she was up the steps and through the doorway with her fiancé. Kemp gave Gavin a short glance with his expressionless eyes and shut the theater door.

Gavin sank to the bottom step, heedless of the damp and dirt. Every scar on his back ached, and they pulled him down like taut chains. He drew the little nightingale from his pocket and pressed the side of its head so it sang. The mechanical notes sounded dull as a pile of lead shot. Gavin silently swore he would never sing or play the fiddle again, not in a world where Alice would never hear him.

The theater doors banged open. Alice burst through them and rushed down to Gavin. He leapt to his feet just as she flung herself into his arms.

“I’m an idiot,” she whispered in his ear. “To hell with Norbert. It’s always been you, too.”

And then she was kissing him. Gavin pulled her to him and tightened his arms around her. His aches vanished and his heart soared. They joined hands and fled through the dark.

Gavin didn’t even remember how they got back to Ward headquarters or when Kemp caught up to them. He only knew he was running up the steps to the main doors of the house, and it felt as if his feet barely touched the ground. A breathless Alice ran beside him, her eyes bright. He stopped in the doorway to kiss her again. She kissed back, and he wanted to shout and laugh even while his body pressed hard against hers.

“Mr. Ennock!” she gasped when they parted. “One doesn’t kiss a baroness like that!”

“One doesn’t?” he said with a wide grin.

“Certainly not! One kisses a baroness like this.” She moved closer and kissed him again. Gavin closed his eyes and breathed hard. He’d died. That was the only explanation.

“Madam,” Kemp said uncertainly.

Alice ignored him. “Now it’s your turn,” she breathed against Gavin’s teeth.

He stepped back, touched her face with one gloved hand, found he couldn’t bear that, and flung the gloves aside. He let his bare fingers brush her face as lightly as wings, and he leaned down for another kiss, one that stopped time.

A gentle cough pulled them apart. Lieutenant Phipps stood a few feet away, her metal fingers drumming softly against her thigh. Alice covered her mouth, then put her hand down. Gavin, for his part, couldn’t stop smiling.

“I’m glad you plan to join us, Your Ladyship,” Phipps said.

Kemp regained his mental footing. “Since Madam has finally seen fit to take the advice of certain people and leave Sir, shall I arrange for the delivery of Madam’s things?”

“The only things I need,” Alice replied with a small toss of her head, “are Click and the box of little automatons from my workshop. My favorite tools are in my handbag”—she held it up—“and everything else came from my . . . from Mr. Williamson, and I don’t want any of it.”

Phipps gave a curt nod. “I’ll send a pair of agents round for the automaton box.”

“What about Click?” Alice said.

“Strange about Click.” Phipps stepped aside, revealing the little clockwork cat, who was licking a paw. “He showed up about five minutes before you did.”

“Click!” Alice scooped him up, and Gavin felt glad that she was so glad. “How did you know to come here?”

The cat only looked pleased with himself. A rusty purr emerged from his chest. Kemp sniffed.

“We’ll also get you some clothes,” Phipps added. “Grand gestures may be dramatic, but they’re rarely practical. Welcome to the Ward, Baroness Michaels.” Phipps held out her flesh-and-blood hand.

“Shouldn’t it be just Alice?” she said, shaking hands around Click.

The corners of Phipps’s mouth twitched. “Indeed. We’ll start your training in the morning. Early.” With that, she strode away.

Alice started to say something, but Gavin stopped her. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Tell her you have an idea about finding Edwina. Let’s keep it to ourselves for now.”

“Why, for heaven’s sake?”

“Because the last two times she yelled at me,” Gavin said.

“Two times?” Alice repeated.

“Once after the incident at the Bank of England, and once after your adventure with the giant mechanical. You didn’t stick around for that one.” Gavin rubbed his face. “If your idea doesn’t pan out, I don’t want her to yell at me again. I don’t like being yelled at.”

Alice looked doubtful, but finally nodded.

“So tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you have a map room in this place?”

A few minutes later, she was unrolling a large, detailed map of London across a table in a room illuminated with gas jets Kemp lit for her. Click lounged on the table and batted idly at the scroll weights Alice used to prevent the unwieldy parchment from rolling back up.

“Aunt Edwina kept playing that same chord,” she said. “It was a message, one only someone with perfect pitch would understand.”

Gavin scratched his head. “Well, it didn’t work. I don’t understand it.”

“You did—you just didn’t decode it. Look here. You said the G-sharp has a frequency of fifty-one; the B’s frequency is thirty; the rest would be zero, of course; and the D is nine. Those four numbers were almost exactly the same as fifty-one, thirty, zero, and eight, the map coordinates Pilot gave for Buckingham Palace when he flew us on the airship from Father’s house. I don’t know much about map coordinates, but I reasoned the music numbers must give a spot for a place close by. And I was right. Look—fifty-one degrees, thirty minutes north and zero degrees nine minutes west.”

“Holy cow!” Gavin’s finger stabbed down onto the map. “Hyde Park!”

“Oh! We should have known from the beginning!” Alice exclaimed. “Everything comes back there. Norbert and I often went to Hyde Park, and you played in Hyde Park. I first heard you there, though I didn’t know it at the time. If that’s where Aunt Edwina’s hiding, no doubt she heard you as well. It may be the reason she settled on kidnapping you—availability.”

“It wouldn’t explain why she came back for me,” Gavin pointed out.

“What say we go ask her?” Alice asked.

“After you, Your Ladyship.”

“Might I suggest a change of clothing first?” Kemp said. “Neither Madam nor Sir is quite attired for tramping through the verge.”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought. Can you find something more appropriate for me, Gavin?”

Kemp’s eyes flickered and flashed. “I have already contacted the Third Ward’s main Babbage engine and discovered both the location of Sir’s room and the location of the main clothing stores. What color dress would Madam prefer?”

“Madam would prefer trousers, please,” Alice said wickedly. “If Madam is going to break the rules, she may as well break them badly.”

“If Madam and Sir will give me a moment.”

“He’s full of surprises, isn’t he?” Gavin said as Kemp bustled away.

Her arms went around his neck. “We have more rules to break, Mr. Ennock.”

When Kemp returned a few minutes later with more appropriate clothing, he found Alice and Gavin in a state of dishabille. He coughed, and they separated. Gavin flushed, but Alice only laughed. It was the first time he had ever heard that sound from her, and his heart gave a little leap.

“Thank you, Kemp.” She planted another kiss on Gavin’s mouth and scuttled behind a tall fire screen to let Kemp help finish removing her dress while Gavin changed out of the remainder of his evening clothes. His groin ached, and he was glad that Alice couldn’t see his present state. Click cocked his head across the map table.

“What are you looking at, cat?” Gavin muttered.

Click licked a metal paw.

Alice emerged from behind the screen wearing brown trousers, a white blouse, a riding jacket, and a boy’s cloth cap. Gavin barely recognized her, but she was still beautiful. The trousers and jacket outlined her shape and made her femininity even more apparent. Gavin longed to snatch her up and flee to a remote mountaintop, where the air was clear and the clouds washed the world clean and where they could be alone together for an eternity of moments.

Kemp said, “I took the liberty of ordering a pair of riding horses from the stable. I will stay behind to ensure proper quarters are prepared for Madam’s return.”

They were heading out the door when Alice stopped and dashed back to Kemp. She spoke to him briefly, then rejoined Gavin.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“I’ll want tea and a hot bath when I get back,” she explained, “and Click will need winding, since he’s staying behind. Life is in the details, Gavin.”

“At least you’re not calling me Mr. Ennock.”

They didn’t go the stables, though. Instead, Gavin led Alice to a staircase that took them down to the first basement level and a heavy door with several keyholes on it. Gavin spun a combination lock several times, depressed a number of keys on a large adding machine set into the door itself, and produced a key, which he slid into the third keyhole from the right. The door clanked and groaned, then creaked slowly inward.

“What is this?” Alice asked.

“The weapons vault. We’re not going unarmed.”

The large, large room beyond was filled with racks and shelves and drawers. Gun barrels made of metal, glass, and other substances gleamed in the overhead electric lights. Pistols in a variety of shapes waited to be loaded and used. Many were connected by long, heavy cords to power packs meant to be strapped to the wielder’s back. Other racks sported explosives—bombs, dynamite, barrels of gunpowder. One section was lined with syringes, ampules, and rows of brown medicine bottles.

“Goodness,” Alice said. “You’re well equipped.”

“We try.” Gavin felt unaccountably pleased at the remark, as if he had something to do with the Ward’s weaponry. “Most of them are singular pieces invented by the clockworkers we find. The worst ones go into the Doomsday Vault, of course, but these are for us agents to use as we see fit.”

Alice picked up a small ball of red porcelain. “What’s this?”

“It’s filled with pollen from a plant developed by L’Arbre Magnifique. Don’t drop it! It’ll put you to sleep for several minutes unless you drink absinthe first.”

“Absinthe?” Alice shuddered. “Why absinthe?”

“Ask L’Arbre Magnifique.”

She set the ball down and hefted a bulky rifle. “What’s this one do?”

“Good choice. It shoots a balled-up net that springs open to engulf the target. Not much accuracy over long distances, but good at close range.” Gavin selected several syringes with corks on the end. “Opiates. Clockworkers don’t sleep much, and it takes a lot to keep them out, as you saw with Patrick Barton.”

“Why didn’t we take any of this with us when we went after him?”

“No time, remember? He was running, and we had to track him before the trail faded. Besides, Tree came armed. Here, take this one, too.” He handed her a pistol and holstered one for himself. “Now we can get those horses.”