Forged by Desire by Bec McMaster

Doyle’s already chased three journalists from the door. You’re going to have to give them an interview shortly, or they’ll begin making up all manner of nonsense. And then we’ll have both the front page and a murderer named something ridiculous like the ‘Phantom of Factory Five.’”
    His lips thinned. That was one part of the job he wouldn’t relish. “Do you honestly believe the rubbish about ghosts?”
    “No. But in my experience, newspapers rarely concern themselves with facts.”
    That stole a smile from him. Most people couldn’t tell when she was jesting. Not an inch of her expression or tone ever changed. Only through years of familiarity had he aligned himself with her dry sense of humor.
    “Exhibition,” he murmured, scanning the front page and a grainy photograph of a pair of handsomely dressed foreigners stepping down from the rail of what looked like a dirigible. Garrett looked closer. England had sunk its resources into the seas, building steam liners and the enormous iron warships they called Dreadnoughts, but many foreign countries preferred air travel to the sea. From the military cut of the men’s dark uniforms and the heavy fur hats they wore, he suspected they were from one of the more northerly European countries. “I’m surprised we weren’t given the contract for security.”
    The prince consort had vowed to stun the nations with a display of fine British technology and all the wonders the Empire could offer at his exhibition. Garrett had loosely followed the news in the papers, but he’d lost track recently. “Opening this weekend,” he murmured. “Exclusive to the Echelon and their invited guests for the first week, then open to the public for a shilling entrance fee after that.”
    “What’s caught your attention?” Perry could follow his mind as easily as if she held a map.
    One could only wish the opposite was true. In that, she was distinctly female.
    “‘The Russian ambassador,’” he read, “‘the Scandinavian Embassy, several Bavarian and Saxon dukes…’ There are a lot of foreigners in the city at the moment.” He frowned, something tickling his mind. “What am I forgetting?”
    “With an event like this, there’ll be all manner of welcoming balls and social niceties planned,” Perry added promptly. “Both Miss Fortescue and Miss Keller could have come into contact with our foreign visitors.”
    “No. That’s not it.” Garrett closed his eyes, racking his brain. Where the devil had he seen something about foreign nobility? His eyes shot open. “The factory logbook. A week ago. A party of noblemen was escorted through. Some bloody names I couldn’t pronounce without mangling them fiercely.”
    “It should be in the evidence locker by now. Scoresby collected it.”
    “Excellent.” He folded up the paper and discarded it on the table as Perry uncurled herself from the chair.
    The storage facility was located in an adjoining building. The yard between was almost empty at this time of day, with only a stable drone spluttering over the cobbles, its circular brooms sweeping away the debris. The automaton moved with swift efficiency, courtesy of Fitz and his mechanical meddling.
    Pushing into the library, Garrett nodded to the warden and strode to the locked clockwork doors that opened into Storage. Dozens of interlocking gears covered the heavy brass door. The only way to open it was to correctly turn two or three gears, so that the whole thing would turn. Turn the wrong one, though, and it would lock tight.
    “One would presume the draining factory party was comprised of Russians or the Bavarians or Saxons.” Perry followed him inside. “The Scandinavian verwulfen clans would have little interest in learning how to collect and store blood.”
    “I’ll send Hayes and Larkin out to check the docking records at the airfields to see who arrived and when.”
    “I thought you liked Sykes for the murders.” She closed the door behind them.
    “I do.