Griffin’s expression was tight. Finley felt for him—a little. He wasn’t used to being questioned. He was a duke, after all. He was also decisive, perceptive and usually right. Still, it seemed his personal fears and feelings might be clouding his judgment. “Fine. We’ll treat this as though it might not be Garibaldi, but that it may be related to him.”

“You seem pretty keen on layin’ this at the Italian’s feet,” Jasper commented. “Anythin’ you want to share?”

Finley turned her gaze to Griffin to see his reaction, but he was staring at a point over Jasper’s shoulder, his eyes and expression hard. “The three of you need to leave this room. Now.”

What the devil? Finley followed his gaze. There was nothing there. “Griffin…”

“Finley, get out. Now.” His jaw was clenched, face etched with something that looked like a combination of hate and fear.

“We’re not going anywhere,” she informed him, pointing a warning finger at Sam as he started gathering up the maps to do what he was told.

“I’m not going argue with you,” Griffin ground out. “Get the hell out of this room.”

Finley opened her mouth to disagree, but not a sound came out. Suddenly there was a terrible banding around her throat, cutting off her breath. She tried to suck in air, but it was impossible, and the invisible hands around her neck squeezed tighter.

Hands. Yes, it felt like hands. Her vision began to waver.

Griffin swore. Out of the corner of her eye, with what vision she had, she saw him grab Jasper by the arm. “Sorry, my friend, but I need your help with this, and I don’t have time to explain.”

Jasper blinked. “What the hell… Oh, no. No.”

Finley gasped for air as she turned her gaze forward once more. Suddenly, as the world grew more narrow, she began to see a figure before her. Long black hair. Almond-shaped eyes. As her lungs strained for air, the face of her assailant became clearer.

It was Mei, the girl Jasper had once loved. The girl Griffin had accidentally killed. She glared at Finley with inky, iris-less eyes, a determined expression on her face.

Was she a ghost? She had to be—her own imagination wasn’t nearly this powerful, and Griffin had seen her first.

Blackness invaded her vision. Finley grappled for Mei’s arms, but her fingers went right through them. Her form was as insubstantial as fog. Dimly, over the roaring in her ears, she heard Jasper speak. He was pleading with Mei, asking her to stop. And Griffin was reaching for her…

And that was it. The last thought Finley had as she sank into oblivion was how it would be just her luck to be murdered by a bloody ghost.

The sleeping beauty in the fairy tale was awakened by the kiss of her prince. Finley woke up to the overwhelming and oh-so-not-delightful smell of vinegar.

“Bloody hell!” she cried, lurching upright. Her voice sounded like the scratch of metal on cobblestone and her throat was tender to the touch. Would it bruise in the form of handprints?

Griffin sat beside her. They were on the settee. Someone had elevated her feet and removed her boots and, from the feel of it, loosened her corset. Under ordinary circumstances the realization that she was partially disrobed on a sofa with Griffin would lead to heart palpitations, but not now. Not when he was looking at her as though her being attacked by a dead person was his fault.

Because she had the sinking feeling that it probably was.

Sam and Jasper lurked nearby. Sam held a small blue glass bottle and a handkerchief. He’d been the one to administer the foul-smelling restorative. No doubt he’d asked for the privilege to wake her so rudely.

At least there was no sign of Mei. Other than a broken vase on the floor, wet carpet and trampled flowers, there was no indication that Finley had almost… well, given up the ghost.

“What was that?” she demanded hoarsely. “It was Mei,” Griffin replied—rather unnecessarily. “I know that. Why was it Mei?”

“Yeah,” Jasper joined in. “I reckon you’ve got some explainin’ to do, Griff.” The cowboy did not look happy, and why would he? He’d loved Mei once, been betrayed by her and then held her as she died. If anyone deserved answers, it was him.

Griffin rose from the settee and walked a few feet away, then he turned to face the three of them. He looked annoyed, frightened and somewhat relieved. It was obvious he didn’t want to tell them, but also that he knew he had no other choice.

“I’m being haunted.”

They stared at him.

“Haunted?” Finley echoed, coming up on her elbows. “By Mei?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “By someone, though it’s obvious Mei is part of it.”

“Just part?” Sam asked. “Good Lord, man how many ghosts do you have chasing your tail?”

“Mei’s the only one who I see clearly. The rest are black wisps—like shadows.”

Sam again. “So this started in New York.”

Griffin nodded. “In Tesla’s apartments. At first I thought it was something strange within the Aether, but after we returned to England I realized that Mei had returned with us. The wisps, too. I’m not sure why it’s happening or how to stop it. That’s why I asked for Isley’s assistance.” He glanced at Finley. “Mei won’t speak to me. She only attacks and screams silently at me. I hoped he could ascertain just what it is she wants, or find a way to give her peace.”

“I don’t reckon peace is something she ever courted,” Jasper lamented.

Finley ignored him. Mei had played Jasper for a fool and tried to get her killed. She didn’t care if the witch suffered eternal torment. There were more important things to address right now.

“This has been going on for weeks and you never told us?” She couldn’t keep the disbelief, or the disappointment, from her voice. “I would have liked to have been prepared for the possibility that a ghost might try to strangle me to death!”

“Just how did she manage that, anyway?” Sam asked. “I thought it was rare for ghosts to interact with regular people.”

Regular people? There was nothing regular about any of them.

“It is,” Griffin said with a slight sigh. “It’s as though she’s siphoning strength from somewhere. Isley believes she might be using my own affinity with the Aether against me.”

That was bloody brilliant. Just wonderful.

“You should have told us,” she admonished him. “You didn’t need to go through this alone.” And that was the real issue. It wasn’t that she thought he didn’t trust her—it was the fact that he thought dealing with this was something he needed to do by himself.

“I thought I was the only one in danger.” Griffin confessed as he massaged the back of his neck. He looked like hell, but she wasn’t going to hand over her sympathy quite so easily. “Fin, if I thought for a moment she’d try to hurt you…”

“She didn’t just try, Griffin. She almost choked the life out of me.”

“I didn’t want you all to get involved,” he confided. “I knew you’d try to help and I was afraid you would get hurt.”

She actually smiled. He was such a martyr at times. “That worked out well, didn’t it?”

He returned the grin. He looked as though the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. “Rather brilliantly, I thought.”

“Right, so the two of you have kissed and made up,” Sam butted in. “Then maybe you could help me figure out how to bring Emily home. We can deal with Griffin’s ghost after that.”

He was right, of course. She was upset that Griffin hadn’t shared with her what he was going through, but she also understood that he didn’t want to involve them for fear they’d be hurt. Only now, she was involved whether either of them liked it or not.

Sam turned to Jasper. “I mean no disrespect to Mei’s memory, Renn, but my priority is finding Emily and keeping her alive.”

The American shrugged. “I’m with ya, my friend.” He looked at Griffin. His golden-green eyes were troubled. “The Mei I knew wouldn’t torment anyone like that.”

Griffin nodded, expression grim. “She’s angry, and I don’t blame her.”

“Huh.” Jasper shook his head. “I do.”

Finley couldn’t contain her surprise. Since coming back to London, Jasper hadn’t said much of anything about what happened in New York and said even less to Griffin. Maybe his move to King House should’ve been proof enough that he held no ill will toward them.

Griffin looked as though he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He merely smiled a tight, stretched smile. “I blame myself.”

“Did you know she’d get trapped in the wall?” Jasper asked.

“Of course not!”

“Then there’s no blame for you to take. I shouldn’t have left her with Dalton. I shouldn’t have done a lot of things, but none of them make a lick of difference now.”

“No, they don’t,” Sam interjected. “Mei’s dead and she’s pissed, I get it. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk about Emily, who is still alive and doesn’t blame anyone for anything. I’d really like to find her if you’re all done with your own little dramas.”

That put them all in their places, didn’t it? Thoroughly chastised, Finley replied, “You said we couldn’t go charging in because the machines might detect us. But would they detect another machine?”

Griffin shot her a glance that made even her toes shiver. He might be a maddening, frustrating, stubborn bit of bone, but he was so very, very fine. “What do you have in mind?” he asked.

Oh, she had a list. But he was talking about rescuing Emily, so she put her mind to that instead. “Well, surely Emily has some automaton or device we can send into the catacombs to spy for us.”

“The cat?” Griffin asked, looking to Sam.

The big lad looked surprised to be consulted. He was normally called upon for his strength, not his wits. Finley pushed that thought away. That was unfair. She’d hate to be treated as though she hadn’t much intelligence just because she was strong.

“Not the cat,” he said. “It’s too big and too flashy. It’ll be noticed, nabbed and probably stripped for parts or, worse, turned against us.”

“Emily would never forgive us if it was destroyed,” Finley added.

Sam nodded. “Exactly. She’s got some smaller automatons in the lab. I’ll check and see if there’s anything we can use.”

“I might be able to alter the device’s Aetheric frequency,” Griffin threw in. “It would make something small all that more difficult to detect.”

“I’ll go down there now and see what I can find.”

“I’m with you,” Jasper said, casting a glance first at Finley and Griffin. “We’ll leave the two of you to continue your conversation.”

Finley’s brows shot up. Griffin looked surprised, as well, and when the door closed, leaving them alone in the room, they turned to face each other awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he began. “I’m not used to explaining myself and even less accustomed to having anyone who cares.”

“I care.” And it didn’t matter how embarrassing it was to admit it.

“Yes.” He made the word longer than it ought to be. “Yes, you do. I’m not sure why. It’s not as though I’ve been a charming, attentive suitor.”

She tried not to smile—she should be angry with him, blast it. “Are you my suitor?”

“Do you have someone else in mind for the position?”

“No. But we live in the same house. There are some who might call you my protector.” It was a joke. Sort of. Many rich men lived with or set up houses for ladies with whom they spent time but were not married to.

Griffin’s jaw tightened. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever talk about yourself, or me, that way. I would never treat you like that.”

“I know that. It was a stupid joke.”

He looked like he didn’t quite believe her. “Do you think I intentionally keep things from you to hurt you?”

In a rare moment of clarity, Finley stopped to consider her words. “I know you don’t. I know you want to protect those you care about, and it drives you mad when you feel you’ve failed to do so. What you don’t seem to realize is that you’re mortal, and you need friends watching your back as much as the rest of us. Maybe even more.”

His shoulders stiffened. “I was raised knowing that many people would depend on me for their safety and their livelihood. Regardless of what Jasper says, I am responsible for Mei’s death. Nothing can change that.”

“No, it can’t, but rather than letting her punish you— and punishing yourself—maybe you should concentrate on giving that peace you mentioned. Make amends and stop flogging yourself. It’s not terribly attractive.”

To her surprise he laughed. “What would I do without you to give me clarity?”

“I imagine you’d suffocate yourself by shoving your head too far up your own backside.”

He looked sheepish, but he was smiling, so he knew she was teasing. “I’ve never had to answer to anyone. I’ve never really had anyone else I can depend upon other than Sam. As duke it’s my job to take care of others, not to let them take care of me. I’ll try, though, for you.”

Oh. That was exactly the right thing to say. It thrilled and scared her at the same time.