The Lost Memories of Meriwether Klark: A Steampunk Novel (The Memory Thief Series Book 4) by Sarina Dorie

Author:Sarina Dorie [Dorie, Sarina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-08-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ladies of Negotiable Virtue

Sadie—pretty and inexpensive. This trollop specializes in spankings in Lower End.

Matilda—blonde, has all her teeth. Found behind Beeman’s Tavern.

Genevieve—A soiled dove who will make any man’s fantasy come true. French and expensive. The House of Joy.

—excerpt from a gentleman’s pamphlet

After dinner, Father bade me dress in my best suit. He told my stepmother he was taking me to the opera. I didn’t particularly want to be cheered with the opera—nor with anything else.

Our theatres on New Campton Station were some of the finest in the galaxy and drew travelers from distant ports. There wasn’t a day that didn’t feature some kind of ballet, opera or play on the stage. I was spoiled having a father who owned the station.

Father made small talk while I gazed out the window of the hover carriage at the lamp-lit streets. The lights on the ceiling had dimmed to night to allow residents to sleep. Although we started out toward the entertainment district, the driver diverted our route to the south instead. I recognized this area. Mr. Maddock had taken me here several times before. The alien suffragists had once met in the upstairs room at the back of a pub in this neighborhood.

I feared Father knew about our meeting place. If Charbonneau had found my books and pamphlets, surely he might have contrived a way to discover this as well. I tried to convince myself there was no way he could know. It had been years since I’d gone to this part of the town.

“The carriage isn’t taking us to the opera, is it?” I asked.

“No, it isn’t.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “I have a better treat for you.”

He didn’t sound like a man about to confront me about my loyalties or involvement in the alien suffrage. I wanted to believe he might actually be taking me to someplace he thought I would like, but it was hard to conceive he would ever do something that wasn’t to his benefit.

I sat forward in my seat, examining the street just as I would if we were going someplace I had never been before. In the southern district of the station, the houses were close together without lots, but they were well-kept. Ornate metalwork decorated windows and some of the brick facades actually looked like real brick.

We turned a corner and went down another street I was less familiar with. There were still so many places on the station I hadn’t yet explored. Even when I’d gotten permission to take the carriage into town for shopping or went on a ride with family, there were still many areas and decks where I wasn’t permitted to go.

We stopped at a house that could have blended in with all the others except for the red paint around the house number. A footman greeted us and escorted us to a parlor.

Father smiled at the man and greeted him. “Jolly good seeing you again, Beecher.” Father’s high spirits and informality was unnerving compared to the way he ignored our servants.

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