Her cheek was turned an angry red, but Phoebe nodded. She was still terrified, but at least she wasn’t screaming.

Finley crawled over the other seat, legs dangling over the side as the ground rushed by below. If she fell now, the best she could hope for would be to live. More than likely she would be caught beneath the frame and dragged to her death. Lovely.

She took a breath and cautiously extended a foot toward the bar that connected the two metal horses to one another. At least she’d have a perch. She pushed forward, wavered for a heart-pounding second, and then found her balance despite the terrible bouncing and swaying of the vehicle.

The horses’ exteriors were made of plates, so she dug her fingers beneath one and pulled. It resisted, having been welded in place, but she ground her teeth and yanked.

The plate flew into the air and spun backward. Phoebe ducked just in time to avoid being brained by it. Finley didn’t take the time to even consider how bad that could have been.

“Duck!” she shouted this time, and repeated the maneuver with the other horse. She didn’t check to make sure Phoebe did as she bade. They were almost at the turn.

Inside each horse she could see pistons and gears pumping and spinning. If she grabbed the bar that seemed to be the part that drove the legs…if she broke that, the horses should stop.

But it was a solid metal bar. No, wait! It had a rotating piece attached at the end for the back legs. She could jam it if she had a tool….

Each horse had a metal tail—more for appearance than any real use. She snapped the tail from each horse, and holding each like a spear in either hand, drove them into the open drive works. Sparks flew up, but she didn’t flinch, even when the molten metal landed on her clothes and skin.

The carriage lurched as the horses made the most horrific noises—grinding that sounded almost like a woman screaming. Steam rose all around them as the metal beasts staggered and stumbled. They were coming apart.

At the last second, Finley realized she was in the wrong spot. She turned and dived toward the carriage, taking Phoebe to the floor with her as the horses came apart. She sheltered the other girl with her body as they slammed to a standstill, pieces of metal raining down around them. Something hard slammed her in the back of the head. She saw stars but didn’t pass out. Warmth ran down her scalp and neck. Drops of crimson plopped onto Phoebe’s pale green jacket.

There was a heaviness on her back as everything finally stilled. As Finley pushed up, she realized it was the head of one of the horses. It must weigh a good three and a half stone. Hopefully none of the people racing toward them saw her toss it aside like it was no more substantial than a jug of milk.

She offered Phoebe a hand. “Are you all right?”

The girl nodded, face so white she might be a ghost. “You’re bleeding.”

Finley nodded. “I’ll heal.” And she would—quicker than she ought.

Suddenly they were surrounded. Voices demanded to know if they were all right. Finley tried to reassure them all, but the sight of her blood only added to the frenzy.

Lord Vincent appeared, his face almost as white as Phoebe’s. His relief to find her whole and unharmed might have been touching if he hadn’t then turned to look at his precious horses. His brow furrowed when he saw the damage. Something strange flickered in his eyes when he spied the tails sticking out of the open sides. He turned his gaze to Finley, and what she saw there sent a shiver down her spine.

He knew what she had done. It was there for everyone to see, but only Lord Vincent knew just how impossible it should have been for her to get those panels off, let alone rip off the tails and jam up the works.

Suspicion, and the understanding that she was not as she ought to be, turned his eyes flinty and dangerous—just like the villagers turned against Dr. Frankenstein when they realized what a monster he had created. Lord Vincent looked at her like she was that monster.

So Finley did what so many rich girls did when confronted with a situation they did not want to face. She rolled her eyes back into her head and pretended to faint.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“It’s almost completely healed.”

Finley shrugged at the awe in Phoebe’s voice as the girl examined her scalp where she’d been injured during the carriage accident. “I know.”

She pointed at her cheek where Finley had slapped her. There was a red mark on her cheek with faint bruising. “But I’m stuck with this.”

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t think of any other way to calm you down.” Finley really did feel bad about it.

Phoebe waved a dismissive and impatient hand. “That’s not what I meant. Of course you were right to strike me. I was an absolute hysterical mess. A little powder will cover it. What I meant is that you should have more than a fading scar.”

Shoulders sagging, Finley sat down on her bed. “I should, but I don’t.” Was this the moment that Phoebe finally turned on her? “I’m not normal.”

The other girl laughed. “No, you most certainly are not.” She plopped down beside her, dark eyes wide. “You are extraordinary, and you saved my life. Thank you.”

Finley stared at her, jaw loose. “You’re not afraid of me?”

More laughter. “Of course not, silly! I might be a little nervous around mechanical horses for a while, but I could never be afraid of you.”

Heat pricked the back of Finley’s eyes. She blinked away the sting. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now—” she gave Finley’s leg a slap “—why don’t we get Mama and go out for a bit? I’ve a craving for chocolate from that little shop on Bond Street.”