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Zusatztext "Fabulously entertaining—a great romance in an inventive! believable steampunk world!" — New York Times bestselling author Stephanie Laurens “Riveting! I couldn’t put it down. I can´t wait for the next book!” — #1 New York Times bestselling author Victoria Alexander Informationen zum Autor Kate Cross is also USA Today bestselling author Kathryn Smith. In the last ten years she has published more than twenty novels, which have been translated into several foreign languages and formats. Writing steampunk allows her to combine her love of fashion, history and science fiction. She lives in Connecticut with her husband and five cats. Klappentext Arden is an undercover agent for one of the most powerful organizations of this steam powered world-the Wardens of the Realm-a group with extraordinary abilities! dedicated to protecting England against evil. Arden Grey enjoys a life most women in 1898 London can't even dream of: She has the social status! wealth! and independence of a countess. She also has the ability to witness the final moments of a murder victim's life. But ever since the disappearance of her husband! Lucas! none of this means anything to her. Until one night! when Arden spies a man watching her-a man she recognizes as her missing husband. He's been ordered to assassinate Arden as retribution for her part in the killing of a Company agent. Luke remembers nothing of his life before the Company! a corrupt agency that has erased his memory. Even so! he can't seem to complete his assignment. There is something familiar about his lovely target! something that attracts him! and fills him with dread. For he knows that if he doesn't kill her! someone else will-and kill him as well. Leseprobe Chapter 1 London, the Age of Steam “You shouldn’t go in there, ma’am. ’Tis no place for a lady.” Arden Grey, known in polite circles as Lady Huntley, and in less polite as “that poor woman,” carried a small carpetbag in her gloved hand as she approached the factory door, pewter-colored skirts swishing around her matching pumps. Overhead the lights of a police dirigible swept across the scene, illuminating the night in a wash of glaring silver. The veil attached to her tiny black top hat did nothing to shield her eyes, and Arden squinted against the intrusive brightness. “You will soon learn, sir, that I am not the usual sort of lady.” She’d been born and bred to be one, even married an earl to maintain the illusion, but during her unusual life she’d seen and heard— and done —too many dark things to own such a gentle, ignorant title. The Scotland Yard man tugged the brim of his hat at her in reply, and stepped back so she might pass. It was obvious from the tight set of his lips that he opposed her presence most vehemently, but knew his place well enough not to voice his disapproval again. In this thoroughly modern world there were still those who believed a woman ought to keep to home, rather than engage in any manner of business. Tell that to Queen Victoria. Sagging floorboards creaked under her boots as she entered B. E. Hammond & Sons, the varnish long since worn off this particular section of wood. The foyer was well lit and unassuming, and smelled vaguely of oil and metal. It was quiet now, but during the day this entire building would hum and vibrate with the sounds of working machines. The air would be humid and thick, tasting of steam and the sharp tang of industry. She fancied she could smell blood, but it was most likely copper. When people used to oppose her father’s support of the Automatization Movement, he would reply that it could not be a coincidence that the very life in a man’s veins smelled like the same metal used to construct early automatons. He died in the middle of building what would have been his finest work, a piece that now sat ...
