The Dark Discovery of Jack Dandy

The Dark Discovery

of Jack Dandy

The Steampunk Chronicles

Kady Cross

www.miraink.co.uk

Before he makes his appearance in The Girl with the Iron Touch, Jack Dandy had an adventure of his very own. Learn how his actions set the plot in motion in The Dark Discovery of Jack Dandy, a short teaser story from author Kady Cross’s Steampunk Chronicles.

Jack Dandy didn’t become prince of the London underworld at barely twenty-one by being softhearted, even if a certain girl in a steel corset has wormed her way into his affections of late. He knows how to manipulate, charm and rob people blind. And if his criminal activities embarrass his aristocratic father, so much the better.

So when a friend of Jack’s father hires him for an underhanded job, Jack is happy to oblige—for an outrageous fee, of course. Delivering a mysterious crate seems like an easy task—until Jack realizes just what is inside...

Don’t miss the conclusion to Jack’s escapade in The Girl with the Iron Touch by Kady Cross, available now from Mira Ink.

About the Author & Booklist

In her other life, Kady Cross is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than twenty books. She is lucky enough to have a husband who shares her love for the slightly twisted and all things geek, and a houseful of cats with whom she shares her darkest secrets. When she’s not listening to the characters in her head, she’s either trying to formulate the perfect lip gloss or teaching herself to solder. She has a weakness for all things girlie, sugar skulls and boots. Her love of books and makeup borders on addiction—of which she never, ever wants to be cured.

Also available from Kady Cross

The Steampunk Chronicles series in reading sequence:

THE DARK DISCOVERY OF JACK DANDY (ebook novella)

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Jack Dandy wasn’t his real name. It had been chosen carefully with another man in mind. This man had earned the moniker “the Dandy” by being a fashion plate, a man of style, breeding and grace. He was Jack’s father, though Jack had scarcely laid eyes on the man, other than when he’d received money for schooling. That expensive education had served no other purpose than to rub Jack’s face in the life that could have been his, if only his father’d had the guts to marry his mother instead of using her and tossing her aside.

Oh, and it had taught him how to use people. How to manipulate, charm and rob them blind. It had taught him how to spot weakness, and how to hide his own. That was perhaps the most important lesson, though learning that he would never, ever be more than an unfortunate mistake as far as his father was concerned followed at a close second.

A most unfortunate mistake indeed—one he intended to see the old man pay for. One day.

But for now he was Jack Dandy, prince of the London underworld at barely one and twenty. He had more “associates” than enemies and more enemies than friends.

And he had no family, aside from that stranger of a father, whom he thought of every time he entertained a new criminal venture. Almost everything Jack did was with his father’s ruination and embarrassment in mind.

So when word reached him that Lord Charles Abernathy—Viscount Breckenridge—wished to set up a meeting, Jack let the viscount know he was available the following afternoon.

Abernathy was a friend of his father.

Most likely his father knew little, if not nothing, of Abernathy’s need for a man of Jack’s particular skill set, but word of the meeting would reach the earl, and he would wonder what his friend wanted with his bastard son. That was good enough for Jack.

He went to the heavy armoire in his bedroom and opened the double doors so that the tidy contents were revealed to him all at once. Most of his wardrobe was black—with touches of white, red and gray. It wasn’t that he didn’t like color—in fact he liked it very much—but he’d worked hard to build a reputation for himself and how he dressed was part of it. It was all in the presentation.

He tossed his black brocade dressing gown on the bed, rolled his neck and shoulders, and selected a pair of black trousers. They slid softly over his naked legs, the fabric cool and sleek. Next, a black shirt, perfectly pressed, followed by a black silk cravat and dark gray waistcoat. Black stockings followed, along with highly polished black boots with a squared toe. A long black velvet frock coat that hugged his back and shoulders topped it all off.

Jack ran his fingers through his long, wavy black hair, set a top hat on his head and collected his gloves. He had shaved earlier in the bath, and he smelled of sandalwood. Abernathy probably expected him to reek of brimstone, as the devil ought.

But Jack Dandy wasn’t the devil. He was just the son of one.

He made his way downstairs. He lived alone, but there were usually a few hangers-on lazing about on his sofas, smoking his cigars and drinking his absinthe. He had a little group of blokes who seemed to fancy themselves “Dandy Boys.” They were petty criminals with piercings in their faces and walking sticks in their hands. Mostly bored aristocratic brats. They were tedious at best.