The Earl of Brass (The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Book 1) by Kara Jorgensen Page B

board.”
    Hadley’s face flushed with delight. “Finally! You can’t imagine how frustrating I find sewing with a machine. Automata clothes are so much easier to do by hand.” She made her way over to the mirror and tested bending over and squatting down. The girdle held, and the padded cotton fabric allowed her to flex more than her normal corset. “You remember how horrible the Harbuckles were when they found out I was a woman? Well, I decided to bend to society a little. If they don’t want a female doing a man’s job, then they will get a man. Close your eyes for a minute.”
    With a slight roll of her eyes, she turned around to face the other wall. “I can’t imagine this is going to work, Had. Your features are too feminine.”
    “You may call me Harold,” she answered in a husky voice.
    When Eliza turned, she was greeted by a thin boy with a gaunt face and clothes that were too large for his frame. Gone were Hadley’s freckles and long, henna hair, which had disappeared beneath a layer of ceramic dust and a newsboy cap. The only thing that was blatantly her own were her blue eyes, which, despite the coating on her cheeks, still shone with her familiar bright determination.
    “I’m impressed. You may want to pick a less burly voice as you’re much too skinny for it, but otherwise, you look the part. I spoke to Lord Sorrell yesterday. At a dinner party the other day, he had a particularly bad experience with his old prosthesis, but when I suggested the Fenice Brothers could make him a better fitting, more functional one, he nearly drove down here that afternoon. You better finish your corset today because he would like it very much if you could go to his estate tomorrow to have a consultation with him. He is pressed for time and would like it before he leaves for a trip in a few months.”
    She stifled the urge to smile prematurely. “You told him about the surgical aspect?”
    “No, I thought I would leave that to you. You are a lot more persuasive than I am, and I know I would just go into the gory details and make the blood drain from his face. He would like you there sometime in the afternoon. Even though I didn’t tell him everything, I’m fairly confident he will agree to it. He seems rather desperate, and that really is not like him.”
     
    ***
     
    Hadley paused before the mirror by the front door. She had taken great pains to look as boyish as possible, even applying extra powder to her eyebrows to make them appear fuller and rounder. After confirming she was aesthetically ready to set out, she transferred the contents of her carpet bag into one of George’s old satchels. As she reached the last few items in her bag, her hand brushed against the cold steel of her derringer pocket pistol. She had bought it around the time of Jack the Ripper’s killing spree for protection, and even though she never ventured into those neighborhoods, a young woman could never be too careful. Staring down at it, she thought about leaving it home in the bag, but instead, she opened her shirt and stuffed it between her flattened breasts for safe-keeping. When Hadley stepped out into the street, she paused, expecting someone to notice her or call her out for being a fraud, but no one noticed. The passersby of London’s streets continued on.
     
    ***
     
    As the hired steamer rattled through the Greenwich greenery, Hadley pored over George’s notes once again. She couldn’t afford to miss anything when she delivered her speech about the experimental arm. Over the hill appeared a small, Gothic manor house built of weather-beaten stone and framed with Cathedral-like spires and mullioned windows. Immediately she recognized the house, but she could recall very little of the inhabitants or what she had done during her original visit. Taking a deep breath as she walked to the front door, she once more prepared for her consultation. It was imperative that she not use her own name during the introductions and deepen