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

by C. J. Archer

  We decided to give Angelique the entire day to get as far away from England as possible, so Matt did not go to the police in the morning. The police, however, came to us. Not the young Detective Inspector Walker, but Brockwell. I suspected it wasn't just us he came to see, however, but Willie.

  "I should go," she said, upon his entry. "I've got to do something."

  Both Duke and Cyclops moved to block her exit from the library. Cyclops was installed back home after finishing his assignment as Lord Farnsworth's coachman, and Duke had returned after spending the night with Mrs. Rotherhide. He was not on assignment, and he planned to visit her again. We'd been telling them how the case of the stolen coronet had ended with Angelique handing it over to Matt. It was currently tucked between my unmentionables in my dressing table drawer.

  "I won't be staying long, Miss Johnson," Brockwell said. "No need to leave on my account."

  "It ain't on your account," she said huffily. "Like I said, I got something to do."

  "What?" Duke asked.

  Willie pursed her lips and tapped her finger on her outthrust hip. "Well, I got to see someone. About something."

  "What something?"

  "It's my private business, Duke. Don't you have a merry widow to pester?" She pushed past them and stormed out.

  Brockwell watched her go. I took that as a sign that he was disappointed and that he still cared for her. I would be sure to tell Willie later, and ask her to give him another chance.

  Matt pulled out a chair and patted the back. "Bristow, bring tea and biscuits for the detective inspector."

  "Is there any cake?" Brockwell asked.

  Matt nodded at Bristow and the butler left without a comment on the early hour or Matt's eagerness to feed the detective inspector. I suspected Matt felt sorry for Brockwell.

  "Mrs. Potter baked a sponge especially for me," Cyclops said, resuming his seat. "She knows it's my favorite."

  Duke rolled his eyes. "There's always cake here. It ain't nothing to do with her welcoming you home."

  "You've been away, Mr. Cyclops?" Brockwell asked.

  Cyclops looked to Matt. If he explained that he'd been watching Lord Farnsworth but was no longer needed there, Brockwell might wonder why and ask questions. We couldn't risk him coming to the conclusion that we already knew who'd stolen the coronet. Not yet. Angelique needed a little more time.

  "A brief visit to the countryside," Matt said smoothly. "For the air."

  "The air in London does get foul. Where did you go, precisely?"

  Cyclops's eye widened. "Er…"

  "Brighton," I said. "The same place we went on our honeymoon."

  "Brighton," Cyclops repeated. "Matt and India talked about it so much, I wanted to see it for myself."

  "I thought you said the countryside, not the seaside."

  "Same thing," Duke said.

  "No, it's not. One is in the country, the other is by the sea." Brockwell frowned. "It is a curious time for you to go on holiday, Mr. Cyclops. Aren't you in the middle of an investigation, Glass? Don't you need all hands on deck to find the coronet?"

  "The investigation is drawing to a close," Matt said. "I'm sure we'll have a culprit for your colleagues to arrest shortly."

  Bristow entered, wheeling the tea trolley. Brockwell's eyes lit up at the sight of the sponge cake, taking pride of place on a cake stand. He rubbed his hands together as Bristow sliced it and passed around plates.

  I poured the tea and handed a cup and saucer to Brockwell. It was a relief to see him distracted from his interrogation by refreshments.

  "I've looked into Walker's case on the stolen coronet," Brockwell said without lifting his gaze from the cake resting on his knee. "He has no evidence against the maid. He'll not arrest her."

  "That is good to hear, Inspector," I said.

  "Not for Walker. His superiors aren't happy with his lack of a conviction. Walker will be feeling the pressure. If he can't find evidence soon, I wouldn't put it past him to make it up. His colleagues suspect he has done so in the past. He has a suspiciously successful arrest record."

  "That would account for his rapid rise through the ranks," Matt said.

  Brockwell ate his cake in silence except for the sigh accompanying each bite. When he finally finished, he brushed the crumbs off his fingers and picked up his teacup. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, the reason for my visit."

  "You mean you're not here to see us?" Matt asked with a pout in his voice. "I am disappointed."

  "As it happens, I'm here about the assaults on Mr. Longmire. I visited the suspects Mrs. Glass suggested." He nodded thanks in my direction. "They match the descriptions you gave and have no alibis for the time of both assaults."

  "Have you told Longmire about the arrests?" Matt asked.

  "Not yet. I wanted to speak with you about something the assailants alluded to."

  "Go on."

  "Both men were interviewed separately. Both had the same story. They claimed to have received their instructions by letters signed by your uncle, Lord Rycroft."

  "That's absurd," Matt said. "He doesn't know those men. They're magicians who assaulted Longmire because he wrote letters calling them cheats. My uncle dislikes Longmire for other reasons, but he has no connection to those thugs. He has been set up."

  "That's what I suspected. A guilty man doesn't sign his name on a letter that would implicate him. Thank you for confirming my suspicions. But the question remains, who set him up?"

  I had my suspicions, but I kept quiet. Matt did too and Brockwell left a short while later, without a name.

  After he'd gone, we both looked at one another. "Coyle," Matt said.

  "Shall we confront him now?" I asked.

  "Not yet. I want to find out if my uncle had any involvement at all. I suspect he's not entirely innocent."

  A note arrived from Lord Coyle just as we were about to leave. Matt read it then screwed it up and tucked it into his pocket. I dug into his pocket and retrieved it.

  'Twenty-four hours,' the note read.

  I screwed it up again and handed it to Bristow. "Dispose of this."

  Matt and I left. Neither of us mentioned the note or Hope and Lord Coyle's proposal. It played on my mind all the way to the Rycroft's townhouse, however. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

  By the time we reached our destination, I'd decided I wouldn't interfere in her life. I couldn't convince her to marry him. The decision was hers to make and hers alone.

  I told Matt so. He grasped my hand before I stepped out of the carriage. "You must do as your conscience demands."

  "Thank you, Matt. I'm glad you understand."

  As it turned out, Hope wasn't at home. It was a relief not to have to endure polite conversation with her. Both of her parents were there and greeted us civilly, if somewhat briskly. We had debated on the way whether Matt should speak to Lord Rycroft alone, but I suggested Lady Rycroft ought to hear what we had to say. We might gauge as much from her reaction as his.

  We sat with them in the drawing room but declined refreshments. "We won't be staying long," Matt said. "We have just spoken to a detective inspector acquaintance from Scotland Yard. He informed us that he arrested two men who assaulted Mr. Longmire."

  Lady Rycroft made a miffed sound through her nose. "And you expect us to be sympathetic towards him? The man deserves what he got. Pity they didn't finish him off."

  "They didn't, did they?" Lord Rycroft asked.

  "No," Matt said.

  They didn't seem too concerned about Mr. Longmire's wellbeing. I could hardly blame them. Mr. Longmire was changing the course of their daughter's life.

  "Is there a point to telling us this?" Lord Rycroft asked.

  "The two assailants accused you of paying them to do it," Matt said.

  "What!" Lord Rycroft shot to his feet, his face red with fury. "How dare they! This is absurd! I'll march down to Scotland Yard myself and tell them so."

  He didn't leave, however, and simply sat again.

&nbs
p; It was his wife's reaction that interested me more. Lady Rycroft sat quite still, except for her eyes. She watched her husband intently from beneath her lashes.

  "I told him it wasn't you," Matt said. "The police agreed that you've been framed."

  Lord Rycroft settled back in the chair. His jowls settled too, folding into the fat around his neck. "Quite right. Good to see there's a sensible head down at the Yard."

  "Someone wanted to implicate you," Matt went on. "Any idea who?"

  Lord Rycroft shook his head, but did not meet Matt's gaze.

  "Richard," Lady Rycroft snapped. "He doesn't deserve your protection. Whoever it is has thrown you right in it and doesn't care a whit. If Matthew hadn't been friends with this detective, you could have been in enormous trouble."

  "I'm a peer of—"

  "Don't be naive. Not everything can be swept under the carpet. If the newspapers sense blood, they'll send out the dogs." She blinked at him, then at us, and touched her turban self-consciously.

  Lord Rycroft cleared his throat. "Very well, I'll tell you. It must be Coyle."

  "Lord Coyle?" Lady Rycroft stared hard at her husband. "But…why?"

  "I don't know why he used my name. You'd have to ask him that."

  "Did you approach him about Longmire?" Matt asked.

  Lord Rycroft hesitated.

  "There's no point defending him now," Matt said. "If this is his doing, you need to tell me."

  "That's the thing. It's not entirely his doing." Lord Rycroft cleared his throat and studiously avoided his wife's fierce glare. This seemed to be news to her. "The morning after our dinner with Patience and Cox, I approached Coyle. Patience told us the night before about Longmire's claim. I asked Coyle if there was something he could do to…make the problem go away."

  "Those were you precise words?" Matt asked.

  "More or less."

  Then it was fortunate Lord Coyle had stopped at assault. On the other hand, he was a manipulator, not a murderer.

  "I told him I would give my permission for him to marry Hope if he would get Longmire out of our lives. For Patience, you understand."

  "You sold one daughter to save another," I said.

  Lady Rycroft turned hard, glittering eyes on me. "That's a simplistic view. You wouldn't understand, India."

  I kept my mouth shut. I wouldn't be drawn into a verbal sparring match with these two. I hoped Matt wouldn't either. Not before we had all the answers we'd come for.

  "Hope still has to agree to the match," Lord Rycroft told me. "I won't force her."

  Lady Rycroft gave the slightest shake of her head at her husband's concession.

  "I told Coyle about Longmire's threatening letters to magicians," Lord Rycroft went on.

  His wife made a scoffing sound in the back of her throat at the mention of magic.

  "Patience told us about the letters. I thought then and there that if the recipients knew Longmire sent them, they might retaliate."

  "You told Coyle it was Longmire," Matt said. "You thought if he wanted to marry Hope so much, he'd get rid of Longmire for you, and the recipients of those letters would be the perfect scapegoats."

  I gasped. Now I understood. Lord Rycroft didn't have the stomach to assault Longmire himself, but he knew Lord Coyle would. Or, at least, had contacts among the sort of men who would take justice into their own hands after learning who sent them threatening letters. Coyle gave Longmire's name to the two thug magicians knowing they would mete out justice.

  "But what would that achieve?" I asked, as much to myself as anyone else. "Longmire wouldn't give up the claim for the Cox title just because some magicians assaulted him. He wouldn't connect the two. Did you plan on telling him that you could stop the assaults if he gave up his claim on the Cox title?"

  Lord Rycroft looked away. "You have it."

  But I didn't think I did. There was only one explanation that made sense of it all—the men were not supposed to stop at assault. When Lord Rycroft asked Lord Coyle to get rid of Mr. Longmire, he didn't mean from the city, or to get him to give up his claim on the title. He meant for Coyle to end Longmire's life.

  Oh God.

  Matt had gone very still, as had Lady Rycroft. She stared and stared at her husband, her lips parted, her face pale. They had come to the same conclusion as me.

  "But it was all for nothing," Matt said quietly. "Cox will lose everything to Longmire anyway. He hasn't given up, nor will he."

  Lord Rycroft expelled a heavy breath. I couldn't fathom what was going through his mind. Relief that the thugs hadn't killed Mr. Longmire after all? Or disappointment?

  "I don't understand why Lord Coyle would sign your name on his orders?" Lady Rycroft said to her husband. "Why would he try to damage your reputation? Doesn't he want to marry Hope?"

  "Perhaps we should reconsider his offer," he said.

  "Absolutely not! He's an excellent choice. We can overlook this. We must overlook it. We need him and the qualities he brings to the family, now more than ever. We can't save Patience, but Hope will rise from the ashes of her sister's disgrace."

  Her husband nodded thoughtfully. "And there's Charity to consider too. You're right, I will overlook Coyle's indiscretion. Nothing more will be said about it." He stamped both hands down on the chair arms and regarded Matt. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Please reassure your detective friend that I didn't employ those thugs."

  Matt approached his uncle. He stood over him, calmly doing up his jacket button. But his jaw was hard and his glare equally so. "Do not get involved in anything like this again. Next time, I won't defend you."

  We exited the drawing room, but Matt paused then retraced his steps. "When will Hope return?"

  "This afternoon," Lady Rycroft said. "She should be home by three."

  I had the devil of a time keeping up with Matt's strides as we left the house. His temper was still steaming when we took off after giving Woodall directions to drive to Belgrave Square.

  But my temper was equally fierce. Not just over what I'd heard in the Rycrofts’ drawing room, but because I knew why Matt wanted to speak to Hope.

  "We agreed we wouldn't try to convince her," I said. "Don't deny that's why you want to speak to her this afternoon."

  "You agreed not to speak to her. I didn't."

  "Matt!"

  He arched a brow, challenging me.

  I wasn't going to let a brow defeat me, no matter how severe the arch. "It must be her decision," I said. "Do you understand? I can't live with myself if we force her down that path."

  He turned away to stare out the window, presenting me with his uncompromising jaw. "The Glasses make the Johnsons look like children. At least my American family face their enemies. They don't try to kill them by proxy. "

  We remained cool toward one another for the entirety of the short journey, but Matt suggested we go for a stroll in the leafy square to calm down before confronting Lord Coyle.

  "I need my wits about me and I can't do that if you're mad at me, India."

  I sighed and agreed. A brief walk would do us both good.

  Matt sent Woodall home to Park Street with the carriage. It wasn't far and we could walk there when we'd finished with Coyle. He opened the gate to the garden square and we immediately spotted Lord Coyle not far away, leaning heavily on his walking stick. He'd stopped to talk to someone on the path and they appeared to be having a rather intense conversation.

  "It's Whittaker," Matt said.

  I squinted at the figures. He was right. I recognized Sir Charles's slim, dapper figure. "Should we hail them?"

  "I want to hear what they're saying."

  "Why?"

  "It could be important."

  "But—"

  "Come on, India."

  He grabbed my hand and together we ducked behind a tree then approached swiftly, using the thick trunks and foliage as cover. We stopped behind a plane tree near Lord Coyle and Sir Charles, and Matt took me in his arms. He kissed me. It was a distracted
kiss, designed to obscure our faces if they happened to glance our way. I could just make out what the two men were saying.

  "She asked after his cousins," Sir Charles said.

  "Interesting," mused Lord Coyle.

  "There are none, but the fact she asked is telling. They must be working on a spell that requires wool magic."

  Fortunately Matt swallowed my gasp or I would have given us away. I knew precisely who they were talking about—me. I had asked Mrs. Delancey about her husband's magical family, and then we'd seen her meeting with Sir Charles. She had passed on that information to him.

  But the question was, why did it interest these two?

  Chapter 17

  "We're not going to confront them," Matt said after they'd gone. His tightened grip hadn't let me go until the two men walked away. They had not seen us. Or if they did, they had thought us just two lovers in the park.

  "Why not?" I asked hotly. "Sir Charles is feeding him information about me, and Mrs. Delancey is passing it on to Sir Charles! How could she do that to me? She says she considers me a friend, but to turn around and do this!"

  He rubbed my arms up to my shoulders and dipped his head to meet my gaze. "She has betrayed you, it's true. But I don't think confronting her, Whittaker or Coyle will get us answers."

  I stretched out my fingers, releasing some of my anger. He was right. We wouldn't get the truth by questioning them.

  "Besides," he went on, "if they don't know that we know, we can give them false information to throw them off the scent of your real research."

  I smiled as the last residue of tension left my body. "Good thinking."

  He kissed my forehead and took my hand. "Let's visit Coyle as we originally planned. We might not get the truth about why he sent the magicians after Longmire and blamed my uncle, but the truth isn't too important in this instance. I simply want him to be aware that we know."

  Sir Charles was nowhere in sight as Lord Coyle's butler greeted us at the door. We waited in the drawing room for his lordship, whose arrival was announced in advance by the thunk of his walking stick on the floor.

  "This is a surprise," he said, easing himself into an armchair by the fire. "Does this mean you have good news for me, Mrs. Glass?"