The Spy Master's Scheme (Glass and Steele Book 12)

by C. J. Archer

  I nodded at the musicians. “Do allow me to listen in peace.”

  “Well!” he huffed. “An attitude like that won’t see magicians accepted into society.”

  I pressed my lips together and kept my gaze firmly focused forward, but I could not enjoy the rest of the evening. When the musicians finished, refreshments were served and guests were free to mingle. I searched for Lord Farnsworth in the hope of finding a friendly face before I was asked yet again to use my magic on someone’s watch.

  It took me a moment, but I eventually spotted him by the large potted palm positioned near the door that led to a small room. Charity was with him, standing very close. She stood on her toes and whispered in his ear. Lord Farnsworth’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed.

  He glanced around to see if anyone was watching and his gaze settled on me. As Charity leaned in again, he mouthed “Help” at me. Then he suddenly stiffened and blushed scarlet.

  I hurried toward them, but Charity hustled him into the anteroom and quickly shut the door. Good lord! If they were discovered and publicly exposed, she would be considered compromised. As I hurried toward the door, I spotted Lady Rycroft out of the corner of my eye. She’d noticed the exchange—and she was smiling.

  She wanted this to happen. She wanted them to be discovered alone in a room and have her daughter’s reputation ruined. How could a mother desire such a thing?

  The answer was simple—to force Lord Farnsworth to do the honorable thing and say they were secretly engaged. It would make their behavior acceptable in the eyes of her friends. It would also secure a wealthy and titled husband for a difficult daughter.

  She saw me weaving my way across the floor and realized that I was about to rescue Lord Farnsworth. She gathered up her skirts and strode across the room in the hope of intercepting me. She would do it, too. She would reach me before I reached the door, and there was no way around. Then it was just a matter of drawing the guests’ attention to the anteroom. It was so elegantly simple and I could see no way of stopping her scheme.

  Poor Lord Farnsworth. He was going to find himself trapped with Charity for the rest of his life.

  But I had not anticipated Aunt Letitia. Whether she was driven by her motivation to see him end up with Willie or whether she just wanted to thwart her sister-in-law’s plans, it didn’t matter. She peeled away from a cluster of guests and forged a path to Lady Rycroft like a bullet. She grabbed her arm, halting her. Despite Lady Rycroft’s attempts to shake her off, Aunt Letitia clung on.

  Lady Rycroft watched me pass just out of reach, her face twitching with fury and frustration.

  I quickly glanced around and, seeing no one else watching, slipped into the anteroom. Lord Farnsworth was backed up against a wingback armchair, his eyes wide. When he saw me, he let out a small yelp.

  “Thank God it’s you.”

  Charity swung around and must have loosened the grip she had on his arms because he managed to jerk free and step to the side. Her brow crashed into a frown as dark as her mother’s. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” I said.

  “We want to be alone.”

  “No, we don’t!” Lord Farnsworth gave her a wide berth and joined me. “I think it’s time for me to leave.”

  Charity watched him from beneath half-closed lids. “But you said we were going to have a lark tonight.”

  “I meant out there, making fun of the outfits and watching everyone get drunk. This is not my idea of a lark. Not with—” He snapped his mouth shut with an audible click of back teeth. I suspected he was going to say, “Not with you.”

  If Charity suspected that too, she didn’t care. She tossed her head, marched past us, and out the door. She left it wide open.

  Lord Farnsworth blew out a long breath. “Thank you, India, you saved my life. Imagine if someone else had walked in here? Someone less likely to turn a blind eye.”

  I smiled. “You looked terrified.”

  “I was. She is surprisingly strong for such a little chit, and some of the things she said and did were…unexpected from a young lady. She made me blush and that’s not easy to do. I’ve had a French mistress, you know.”

  “I do know.”

  He lowered his voice as we headed back to the drawing room. “I don’t think Charity is as innocent as she pretends.”

  I nodded thanks at Aunt Letitia and she smiled back. Lady Rycroft was chatting to friends, no evidence of her disappointment on her face. Charity resumed her place by the potted palm, her arms crossed over her chest. She no longer tried to mingle with the other guests.

  The gentleman I’d been seated next to during the performance approached me, a lady dressed in dark blue velvet on his arm. They were all smiles.

  “I think it’s time I left,” I said loudly to Lord Farnsworth.

  “Indeed. I have to meet up with Willie soon. God, how she’ll laugh when I tell her what Charity said. It might even make her blush too.”

  “I doubt that.” I accepted his arm and smiled at the lady and gentleman as I passed them.

  We collected Aunt Letitia then sought out our hostess to thank her for the evening. She regarded me coolly but kept up a polite façade with her friends so near. She wouldn’t say anything about what went on in the anteroom. Doing so would be an admission that she had a hand in it.

  “I do hope you enjoyed your evening, India,” she cooed. “My friends have been thrilled to meet you. I’ll be sure to give everyone your address so they can come and discuss magic with you. So many are interested.”

  As much as I wanted to snap back, I gritted my teeth. “Do send them to my house, although I can’t be sure Matt will welcome them. You know how protective he can be. I’m afraid if your friends come and ask me to perform magic on their timepieces, he’ll know you sent them.”

  I didn’t elaborate on what Matt might do about it. In truth, I didn’t know. But the unspoken threat behind the words was enough for the fake smile to freeze on her face.

  Aunt Letitia kissed her sister-in-law’s cheek. “An interesting evening, as always, Beatrice. But do keep a tighter leash on that daughter of yours. If you’re not careful, she’s going to find herself married to a very unsuitable man. And no one would wish that on a poor fellow.”

  She took my arm and steered me away. Lord Farnsworth hastily said his goodbyes and exited the drawing room with us.

  “Good show, Letty! You were marvelous.” He took her elbow firmly and helped steady her as she walked down the stairs. “You too, India. Thank you again for saving me from your husband’s cousin. I am sorry she’s as batty as she is, or I might consider her a viable prospect. But I’m afraid I can’t.” He sighed. “Could you imagine if her blood got mixed with mine? Disaster!”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Charity is as wild as a jungle cat, and my mother thinks fairies live in the garden. I shudder to think how our children would turn out.”

  I pressed my lips together to suppress my smile. I couldn’t wait to tell Matt how the evening had transpired. He was going to have a good chuckle.

  I relayed the events of the night before over breakfast, delighting everyone except Aunt Letitia. Willie thought it particularly amusing, since Lord Farnsworth hadn’t told her how he’d been trapped in the anteroom by Charity. Willie said he’d simply claimed the party had been a pleasant but dull experience.

  After she finished choking on her laughter and a slice of bacon, she pointed her knife at me. “Are you telling me she cornered him? I know he ain’t the strongest man, but she’s been brought up to be delicate.”

  “She ain’t delicate,” Cyclops muttered. “I reckon if she caught him by surprise, she’d have the upper hand.”

  “He was certainly surprised,” I said.

  Aunt Letitia asked Duke to pour her another cup of coffee from the pot as he passed her chair. “India and I thwarted Beatrice’s plans. We make a very good team, don’t we, India?”

  “We c
ertainly do,” I said.

  “But I’m glad we left when we did.”

  Matt frowned at her. “Was it tiring for you?”

  “Oh no, it’s not for my own sake that I was glad we left. It’s for India’s.”

  Matt’s gaze narrowed. “Why? What happened?”

  “Beatrice told everyone India is a magician. She was bombarded with requests to use her magic.”

  “That would have been unpleasant,” he said quietly.

  “Not to mention vulgar.”

  Matt tapped his finger on the table, a habit that he’d picked up since becoming confined to the house for his own safety. He usually wasn’t aware when he did it, but this time I glared at him then turned that glare onto his finger. He got the message and stopped, tucking his hand into a fist.

  “I think I’ll go out today,” he announced.

  Duke, Willie, Cyclops and I stopped what we were doing and stared at him.

  Aunt Letitia continued to read her magazine. “Marvelous idea. It’ll do you good, although your sore throat seems to have gone away.”

  “But it could come back,” I said, my tone curt. “The air is cold and cold air is not good for sore throats.”

  She looked up as Duke gave her back the coffee cup and clicked her tongue. “You are much too protective of him, India. A man like Matthew won’t let a little sore throat bother him.”

  “I’ve heard people get sick and die from sore throats,” Willie said.

  “Aye,” both Cyclops and Duke chimed in.

  Matt rose and buttoned up his jacket. “My decision is final. I’m going out.”

  Willie stood too. “Then I’ll come with you.”

  “Me too.” Duke wiped his mouth with his napkin before standing.

  Cyclops continued eating. When Willie smacked his shoulder, he looked up, fork paused at his mouth. “Aye, and me.”

  Matt shook his head. “You’re not spending your day off minding me. Call on Catherine as you planned.”

  Cyclops looked caught as he weighed his options. “I reckon it’s best if I come with you. I can visit Catherine later.”

  “Or Matt can stay indoors,” I said pointedly.

  He glared at me and I glared back.

  “Why does Matthew need escorting when he simply has a sore throat?” Aunt Letitia asked.

  The others looked away, shuffling their feet or clearing their throats. She must have known I was the least likely to lie to her because her gaze settled on me.

  To my relief, Bristow entered the dining room. “There’s a Mrs. Pyke here to see Mrs. Glass.”

  “Show her through to the drawing room, please,” I said.

  “Who is Mrs. Pyke?” Aunt Letitia asked.

  “Her husband is a wool magician, but I’ve never met her.”

  Matt and I entered the drawing room together and greeted Mrs. Pyke warmly. She was a small woman with a round face and rosy cheeks. She wore what I assumed to be her Sunday best, a black, maroon and white checked woolen dress with a dark blue hat. She tried to smile back, but it was unconvincing. She was on the verge of tears.

  “How may I help you?” I asked, taking a seat.

  She clutched her bag tightly on her lap with both hands. “You remember my husband, Mrs. Glass.”

  A feeling of dread settled into my stomach. “I do. Is he well?”

  “That’s the thing. He’s missing.”

  “Missing?” both Matt and I said.

  Her bottom lip wobbled. She bit it until she regained her composure. “He didn’t come home last night. It’s not like him. Not like him at all. He’s devoted to me, you see. We’ve never spent a night apart, not in all our twenty-two years of marriage.”

  The day he’d used his spell on Fabian’s carpet, Mr. Pyke had told us that he and his wife hadn’t been blessed with children. He told me that was why he felt so proud of his magical carpets; they were his legacy. He’d then demanded I thank him for his help by using my extension spell on his magical rugs. I’d refused and he’d not asked again, but the encounter had left a sour taste.

  “We are sorry,” Matt said gently, “but what do you expect my wife to do about it? You should go to the police.”

  “I have.” Her face crumpled and tears filled her eyes. She pulled out a handkerchief from her knitted bag before Matt could offer his. She dabbed at her nose. “They told me he hasn’t been missing long enough to warrant an investigation. They said to come back tomorrow. But anything could happen to him by then!”

  “What do you think has happened?” I asked.

  “I think someone has kidnapped him or…” She let out a sob. “Or worse.”

  I moved to sit beside her on the sofa and put my arm around her shoulders. I comforted her until her tears abated and she seemed able to talk again. “Why would someone want to kidnap him?”

  “Because he spoke to a journalist about magic. He told the writer that magic was wonderful, that nobody should be afraid of it. He admitted he was a magician. The article was published the day before yesterday. I think someone took offence and wanted to…to silence him.”

  “He gave his name?”

  She nodded.

  I rubbed her shoulder as she cried into her handkerchief. I appealed to Matt to help me comfort her. I was at a loss for what to say next.

  He crouched in front of her. “Mrs. Pyke, several articles have been written from the view of magicians. Some have even mentioned their names, although not many. But those magicians have not gone missing. Why do you think that’s the reason behind your husband’s disappearance?”

  She released a shuddery breath and her spirits seemed to rally a little. “Because yesterday someone called on him at his workshop. I saw a carriage leave as I arrived. I deliver his lunch every day, you see. I asked Mr. Pyke who it was and what they wanted, thinking it was a good commission, but he wouldn’t tell me. When I insisted, he almost bit my head off. He never speaks that way to me. Never. He was troubled.” She fixed her watery gaze on me. “I think he’s been kidnapped because of what was said in that article.”

  “Did he go to the newspaper before or after his membership was revoked by the wool guild?”

  She gasped. “He didn’t tell me he’d been thrown out of the guild.” She wrung the handles of her woolen bag in her hands. “Will you find him, Mrs. Glass? I have no one else to turn to.”

  Chapter 4

  Keeping Matt at home now, after I’d agreed to help Mrs. Pyke find her husband, proved to be an impossible task. After an hour of alternately arguing with him and giving him the silent treatment, I gave up. He was not going to let me take on this case alone.

  The problem was, where to start our investigation?

  Willie was convinced we should confront Lord Coyle first. “He’s linked to this. I know he is.”

  Duke rolled his eyes. “You don’t know that. There ain’t no link between Coyle and Pyke.”

  “I’d wager good money he’s involved somehow. If I had money.”

  Cyclops suggested we speak to Detective Inspector Brockwell. “Find out if the police know anything.”

  “They turned Mrs. Pyke away when she tried to report him missing,” Willie pointed out. “Jasper won’t be able to help. It’s a local matter.”

  Duke scratched his sideburns. “Maybe he’s got a lover and that’s why he didn’t come home. Maybe he left her.”

  “An investigation will prove that, one way or another,” Matt said. “I think we should begin by searching his workshop. According to Mrs. Pyke, someone in a carriage visited her husband there. His disappearance may or may not be linked to that visitor, but we have nothing else to go on right now.”

  It was agreed and Matt ordered the carriage to be brought around. When it arrived, I left the house first, followed by Willie who stood on the pavement and looked up and down the street.

  “All clear,” she announced.

  Matt exited the house, squashed between the hulking figure of Cyclops and the stocky one of Duke. They bundled him int
o the carriage and climbed in after him.

  “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.

  Nobody answered. It might seem ridiculous, but it was not amusing.

  Mrs. Pyke had given us her husband’s spare shop key. Once we had the door open, we ushered Matt inside and closed it again. We had made the journey without incident. It was no small feat. I breathed out a measured breath as I leaned back against the door.

  It was dim in the shop, and Willie reached for the curtain to open it.

  “No,” both Matt and I told her.

  “We don’t want anyone seeing us in here,” he said.

  The smell of wool fibers was a surprisingly comforting one. It made me think of home. The shop was quite large with rugs of all different colors, thickness and texture spread over the floor, stacked on top of each other, and hung on the walls like tapestries. I touched a green, brown and black Oriental but it held no magical warmth.

  Indeed, few did. “Only the most elaborately woven ones have magic,” I said after touching a gold and crimson rug that would suit a manor house drawing room. “This one and those two. The rest are just ordinary rugs.”

  Duke, who’d been caressing a hall runner on the floor, suddenly lay down on it and spread out his arms. “The pile is luxurious.”

  “That ain’t one of the magic ones,” Willie told him.

  “It still feels nice. Come down here and see for yourself.”

  She got down on her hands and knees and fingered the carpet fibers. “It is soft. Cyclops, come and feel it.”

  Cyclops looked at them as if they were mad. “I’ll check the workshop.”

  He removed a lamp from the hook by the door and lit it. Matt followed him into the rear workshop.

  I sat on the chair at the sales desk and rifled through swatches of carpet samples, all of which were infused with magic. Mr. Pyke must want to keep them fresh and strong so they’d look good, despite being touched by numerous hands.

  There were some outstanding invoices to be paid from wool merchants and dyers in the desk drawer. Some went back several months and had ‘Pay immediately’ written in bold on them. Mr. Pyke must have been having some financial difficulty. I flicked through a notepad that appeared to be used to work out floor area and costs, then set it aside to look through the ledger of orders.