The Imposter's Inheritance (Glass and Steele Book 9)

by C. J. Archer

  "After I hand over the coronet, he wants the rest," Lord Cox said heavily. "If I don't walk away from…from everything, he'll take me to court."

  Patience dabbed at her eyes but tears still spilled down her cheeks. Her husband cast an anxious glance at her from beneath lowered lashes but she wasn't looking his way and wouldn't have noticed.

  "When are you meeting him?" Matt asked.

  "Tonight," Lord Cox said.

  "On a Sunday night? No lawyer will agree to that."

  "It'll just be us."

  "Let me come with you," Matt said. "I have enough legal knowledge to know if he's bluffing."

  "Fine. We're meeting here." Lord Cox rubbed his forehead again. "If it weren't for my family…I don't know if I'd bother fighting."

  "Why?" Patience blurted out. "You'll lose everything, Byron. The home you grew up in, your lands and tenants, your livelihood! Not to mention your reputation will be in tatters, and your friends will abandon you."

  I was about to retort that true friends would rally around him, but I kept my mouth shut. Perhaps Lord Cox didn't have true friends who looked beyond his title. He certainly didn't leap to their defense. Indeed, he remained quiet. I'd never thought of him as middle-aged, with his smooth face and full head of blond hair, but in that moment, he looked every bit his forty-odd years.

  Patience retreated into silence too, as if her outburst had never happened. Husband and wife didn't make eye contact.

  I signaled to Matt that I wanted to speak to Patience alone. At least, I tried to signal to him. When he simply frowned at me when I jerked my head at the door, I winked. He still didn't understand, however, so I had to resort to a more obvious method.

  "My lord, my husband has an interest in historical objects from the English civil war period," I said. "May he look at your coronet?"

  Lord Cox blinked at Matt. "I would never have guessed you to be an enthusiast of English history. I'll fetch it."

  Matt smiled and watched him leave.

  "What about the civil war fascinates you?" Patience asked.

  "Just the whole thing, really," Matt said. "The Royalists and the…"

  "Roundheads," I filled in.

  "Fascinating stuff."

  I cleared my throat but Matt still didn't understand my hint and remained seated, a rather blank look on his face. It would be up to me to draw Patience away instead. She wouldn't speak openly if Matt were listening in.

  "What a lovely clock," I said, moving to the mantel where a tortoise shell and gilt ormolu clock stood proudly in the center between two ornate gilt candlesticks. "Tell me all about it, Patience."

  "I don't know anything about it," she said.

  I held out my hand to her. "Then let me tell you what I know. It's in the style of Louis XIV but is a modern reproduction."

  "You can tell that just from looking at it?" she said, joining me.

  I took her hand and urged her to face the mantel with me, our backs to Matt. "I wanted to tell you something," I whispered. "Something between just us women."

  She withdrew her hand. "If this is your way of apologizing for your meddling then…then I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you, India. I'm sorry. Perhaps one day."

  "I'm not sorry that I helped him make up his mind to marry you," I said quietly. When she went to walk off, I grabbed her elbow and held tightly. "Listen to me, Patience. I want you to know that I'm not sorry because Matt's right. Lord Cox did really want to marry you. I knew it then, and I know it now. If there was no admiration on his part, no affection, I wouldn't have gone ahead with the blackmail."

  "Affection? For me?" she scoffed. "You had to push him towards me, India."

  "It was just a little nudge."

  "It was blackmail. You threatened to expose a dreadful secret that could ruin him. It took that for him to propose."

  "He proposed once before."

  "Precisely. Before. Before he found out about my past indiscretion. I disgust him so much that once he found out, he had to be coerced into proposing again. He loathes what I did, and he loathes it even more that he had to marry me."

  I took her hands in mine and didn't let go when she tried to pull away. "I don't see that. All I see is a man who didn't know how to set aside his pride and act on his feelings. I gave him a way to do it."

  "Is that what you tell yourself to lessen the guilt?"

  I deserved the verbal slap, but I wasn't giving in yet. Something Matt said occurred to me. "I don't believe he's dwelling on your past, Patience. Matt told me Lord Cox was happy at the wedding."

  She looked away. "Things were fine, for a time."

  "Until he received the letter from his half-brother?"

  "Yes. But if he trusted me, loved me, he would have spoken to me about it. He would have shared the burden." Her chin shuddered and her eyes pooled with tears.

  "Not if he's angry with himself. Angry and ashamed."

  She blinked back her tears. "Why would he be angry with himself? It's not his fault."

  "Because he married you despite knowing his father's terrible secret. This coldness is because he feels ashamed that he married you under false pretenses. Perhaps he feels he's no longer worthy of you. You are a baron's daughter and he's…well, he's the illegitimate son of a bigamist."

  "D—do you really think so, India?"

  "Yes." I squeezed her hands. "Speak to him. Reassure him that you love him anyway, and always will, no matter what happens. You will love him unconditionally, won't you?"

  "Of course."

  Lord Cox entered carrying a golden crown on a red velvet cushion. It was in remarkably good condition for its age, with hardly a scratch on it. The gold shone brightly around the garnet and tourmaline gemstones, as if it had been recently polished.

  "It's lovely," I said. "What do you think, Matt?"

  "A very fine piece," Matt said dutifully.

  Lord Cox presented it to Matt. "You may pick it up, if you like."

  Matt did so, turning it around and making a show of studying it. "How old is it?"

  "About two hundred and twenty years."

  "It has survived well. There's not a dent on it."

  "It's kept in a locked box."

  Matt handed the coronet to me. Luckily he kept hold of it because I immediately let go as faint magical warmth spread up my arm.

  "Something wrong, Mrs. Glass?" Lord Cox asked.

  "No." I took it from Matt and I brushed my thumb over the smooth golden surface, one of the garnets, then back to the gold again. The magic was definitely in the gold, not the jewel, but it was quite mild.

  I placed the coronet on the cushion. "Thank you for showing us. Matt, shall we go?"

  Lord Cox promised to let Matt know when he was meeting his half-brother and we departed.

  "It was magical, wasn't it?" he asked as we headed down the front steps.

  "How did you know?"

  "The condition was far too good for something so old, even if it is kept in a box. Your reaction when you touched it was also a giveaway."

  "I wonder what Lord Cox would think if he knew."

  "Going by his reaction when you told him you were a magician, he wouldn't believe you."

  "Lord Coyle would pay a tidy sum for something like that," I said. "Gold magic is incredibly rare." So we'd been informed by Mr. McArdle, a gold magician we'd met when we were searching for the mapmaker's apprentice. According to McArdle, gold magicians once knew a spell to make gold multiply, but the spell had been lost in ancient times. "If that coronet is only two hundred years old, then Mr. McArdle was wrong."

  "The coronet could have been fashioned from an older artifact. The magic in it could be ancient."

  "True. The residual heat did feel faint." I accepted his assistance up the step into the carriage. "Even so, best not to mention it to Lord Coyle. There's no telling what he'd do to get his hands on it."

  We arrived home to find Willie, Aunt Letitia and Duke trying to cheer Cyclops up. Even Mrs. Potter seemed to have contributed
to the effort in the only way she knew how, but the shortbread, slices of Madeira cake and sponge on Cyclops's plate hadn't been touched.

  "What is it?" I asked, pausing in the doorway, hat pin and hat in hand.

  "He's too good for Catherine," Aunt Letitia said huffily.

  "It ain't her fault," Cyclops muttered.

  "Let me rephrase. He's too good for the Masons. Horrid family. How could you be friends with them, India?"

  "Did something happen at church?" Matt asked.

  Cyclops had attended the Masons' local church instead of joining us at Grosvenor Chapel for the Sunday service that morning. "I shouldn't have gone," he said. "Everyone stared."

  "You should have come with us," Aunt Letitia said.

  "If he avoids them then they'll never get used to him." Duke picked up the plate and offered it to Cyclops. "Have one of Mrs. Potter's shortbread. They always make you feel better."

  Cyclops accepted the plate but didn't eat.

  Willie reached over and took the slice of sponge. "Duke's right. You got to go again. You ain't a quitter, Cyclops. Anyway, you got a right to go to any church you like. I say you go back there next Sunday and the Sunday after and the one after that."

  "I don't want to go where I ain't wanted."

  "You shouldn't care what people think." Willie took an enormous bite and a waterfall of crumbs cascaded onto her chest. "I don't."

  Duke rolled his eyes.

  Matt clapped Cyclops on the shoulder. "Willie's right, in a strange way."

  Willie tossed Duke a smug look.

  "This is about you and Catherine, not her family. Hear me out," he said when Cyclops protested. "If her family love her, and I believe they do…"

  "They do," I chimed in.

  "Then they'll accept you for her sake, if they see she loves you and you love her. Give it time. Be persistent but don't rush them. They'll come to see you for the good man you are. Everyone does."

  Cyclops gave a deep sigh and a nod of thanks for Matt.

  Willie went to take one of the shortbread, but Cyclops moved the plate out of her reach. "Mrs. Potter gave these to me," he said. "Get your own."

  Willie pouted as she watched Cyclops eat one biscuit and pick up another. "You'll get fat."

  He ate the second biscuit and smiled at her, his mouth full.

  She humphed. "Mrs. Potter never bakes me shortbread when I got romantic troubles."

  "See what we mean," Duke said to Cyclops. "Everyone likes you. Mrs. Potter doesn't try to feed everyone just because they're sad. Case in point." He indicated a morose Willie.

  She poked her tongue out at him.

  Bristow cleared his throat to get our attention. I hadn't heard him enter. "Are you at home for Oscar Barratt, sir?"

  Matt looked to me and I nodded. "Is he alone or with Lady Louisa?" I asked.

  "Alone." He bowed out and returned a few moments later with Oscar.

  "Ah, cake," Oscar said. "Excellent timing."

  I asked Bristow to bring in refreshments for everyone. Willie sat up straighter and rubbed her hands together.

  "What can we do for you, Barratt?" Matt asked.

  I scowled at him. He might not like Oscar, but he should at least exchange pleasantries with our guest before getting to the point.

  "I believe congratulations are in order," Aunt Letitia said, smoothly. Perhaps she didn't like Matt's abruptness either and being a more experienced hostess than me, knew precisely what to say to rescue the situation.

  "No, Letty," Willie hissed. "He found out Louisa cast her net wide only days before she proposed to him. Remember?"

  "I remember," Aunt Letitia whispered back. "But it's his place to say so, not yours."

  Willie shrugged. "So are you calling off the wedding?" she asked.

  Oscar cleared his throat and flattened his tie. "I see your friends and family all know about my life, Glass."

  "They like to stay informed," Matt said.

  "We don't gossip," Aunt Letitia assured him. "Even Willemina's very discreet, despite evidence to the contrary. Go on, what was it you wanted to tell us?"

  Bristow returned with a tray of shortbread and bowed out. I made sure Oscar got two biscuits by way of apology for the interlopers.

  "I felt as though I owed you an explanation after the other night," he said to Matt. "You see, Louisa and I are still engaged."

  "Really?" I blurted out.

  "However, in light of her past liaisons, I am no longer under the illusion that she's marrying me out of love."

  "Oh, what a shame." Aunt Letitia clicked her tongue. "I do so enjoy a happy story, and I'm afraid this one will end in tears."

  I eyed her carefully, wondering if she'd had one of her turns. Her eyes had that dreamlike quality they sometimes got when her mind slipped into the past.

  Oscar finished his first biscuit while we all waited for him to go on. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and reached for the second.

  "Why are you going through with the marriage if you know she doesn't love you?" Duke finally prompted. "Do you love her?"

  Oscar considered the question. "I thought I did, for a while. But…I don't know. I don't think so. I was crushed that night of the Delanceys' dinner party when Glass told me she tried to court Dr. Seaford, but I think it was simply my manly pride that was hurt. When I thought about it, I realized I didn't mind that I'd never been the object of her affection. What I did mind was that she'd hoodwinked me. I told her so this morning."

  "And?" I asked.

  "And she apologized and promised to be honest with me from now on. She said she still wanted to get married if I did."

  "And you do?"

  "Why not? What have I got to lose?"

  I frowned. "But…you're willing to marry a woman you don't love and who doesn't love you, because she has a fortune?"

  He shrugged. "You make it sound strange, India. People have been marrying for reasons other than love since the institute was invented. At least neither of us is under any illusions. We both know this is a marriage of convenience. Besides, I like her and she likes me. We'll get along fine."

  I stared at him. He smiled back.

  "Don't worry about India," Willie said. "She thinks everyone should have what she and Matt have. People like you and me—sensible, logical people—know love ain't for everyone." She stretched out her legs and crossed them at the ankles. "And that's all right by me."

  "I think it's commendable that you've both come to an agreement and are going into the marriage with honesty," Aunt Letitia said. "Too often the young lady is unaware and is disappointed when she learns her husband is only after her fortune. Lady Louisa is aware that you're marrying her for reasons other than love, isn't she?"

  "She is now."

  "Are you sure this is what you want?" I asked. "Marriage is for life."

  He smiled. "I'm well aware of that. This is what I want, India. My work is too important to me to give it up."

  "Work?" Matt echoed. "Are you referring to the book?"

  "Yes, and any future books I wish to write. With Louisa's money, I can pay the printers well to minimize the risk of them pulling out of our agreement like the last one did. I can even afford to leave my job at the Gazette and throw myself into research, although I enjoy journalism, so I haven't decided whether to stay or not yet." He gave me a flat smile. "I'm flattered that you're trying to talk me out of this, India."

  "Don't read something into her reaction that's not there," Matt growled. "India and I know what Louisa is like. I don't think you're fully aware of how manipulative she can be."

  "She did lie to you about Gabe," I said to Oscar.

  "It wasn't a lie," he pointed out. "She just failed to mention him. Besides, she didn't propose to him, just to Charbonneau."

  "But she would have if we hadn't warned him and he hadn't put some distance between them."

  "She wants to marry a magician. After Charbonneau, Seaford was the next logical choice. It made sense she'd pursue him. I don't mind. I kn
ow my magic is neither rare nor particularly powerful."

  I sighed and appealed to Matt. He, however, simply thrust out his hand toward Oscar.

  "Then congratulations," he said. "I hope you'll be happy together. Or at least not want to kill each other in five years."

  Oscar chuckled and shook his hand. "Marriages of convenience can work, Glass. And who's to say we won't fall in love eventually anyway?"

  Aunt Letitia clapped her hands. "That's the spirit. It will be a romantic ending after all."

  I managed to convince Matt that I ought to come along to the meeting with Lord Cox's half-brother as a support for Patience. Considering she and her husband weren't on good terms, I suggested she might need me.

  He saw right through my ruse, however. "If you want to meet him, just say so," he said as we drove to Lord Cox's townhouse in the early evening. "No need to hide behind Patience."

  "I am not hiding behind anyone. Wipe that smirk off your face, Matt."

  His eyes gleamed in the darkness. "You wipe it off. With your mouth."

  "Americans," I muttered in imitation of Aunt Letitia. Then I kissed him.

  A few minutes later, we were received into the drawing room where we met our host and hostess. Both looked nervous, glancing at the door at every sound. Conversation quickly stalled, and I searched for something to say to break the tension while we waited.

  "Will you be redecorating?" I asked Patience. The drawing room had a woman's touch in the pale pink and mint green color scheme and spindly-legged furniture, but it was a good ten years out of date. The previous Lady Cox must have put her stamp on it when she first married and Lord Cox hadn't changed a thing since.

  "I don't know," Patience said, staring down at her lap.

  We fell into silence again, and it was almost a relief when Ned Longmire arrived. He entered the drawing room with a confident step and a defiant manner about him, as if he were daring Lord Cox to challenge him then and there. He wore a new suit, though not an expensive one, with shoes polished to a high sheen that looked as if they'd hardly been worn. His necktie was a deep blue, tied with a simple knot. A silver watch chain hung from the buttonhole of his dove gray waistcoat. The outfit was all wrong for eveningwear, something I wouldn't have known before I moved in with Matt.