by C. J. Archer
Miss Glass sat on the sofa and indicated I should join her. Matt sat opposite, still smiling. He was certainly happy. The wedding must have gone well.
"What's the estate like?" Willie asked Matt. "Is the house big? Is there a forest and can we go hunting in it?"
"Both house and estate are big," Matt said. "There are woods and they sometimes go fox hunting and shooting. We did none of that while we were there, though."
"India, you must have freesias and gardenias in your nosegay," Miss Glass said.
"Why? Because Patience had them in hers?"
"No, because she didn't. She couldn't. They're for purity and innocence and that girl is neither. You are quite entitled. And the wedding feast must be six courses or more. They only had five." She shook her head. "It was positively sparse."
I refrained from rolling my eyes but caught sight of Matt rolling his. I smiled.
"You say the wedding was small, Aunt," he said, "but it seemed grand to this simple American."
"It was small by our standards." She patted the gray curls at the nape of her neck. "When a baron's daughter weds, it's usually an elaborate affair with more guests than servants. Richard didn't even invite a hundred."
"I don't know a hundred people in England," Matt said.
"You don't have to know the guests. Not when you have a barony or are the heir to one."
Wisely, Matt changed the topic. "How was everything here in our absence?"
"Fine," Duke said quickly. "Nothing happened."
"And yesterday?" Matt asked as Bristow steered a tea trolley into the room.
"I told you, nothing happened."
Matt arched a brow. "Payne was executed. That's not nothing."
"Right. Sure." Duke cleared his throat. "He's dead."
"I know that, but…" Matt sighed and turned to me. "Are you all right, India?" He looked at me with sympathy. Of everyone, he would know that my feelings on the matter were complex.
"I am," I said, pouring the tea. "The show was a welcome distraction."
He gave me a small smile. "So you liked it?"
"Very much." I handed Willie a teacup. "Even Willie enjoyed it, didn't you?"
"It gave us something to do," was all she said.
I described the show to Matt and Miss Glass from the opening announcements to the singing of the national anthem at the conclusion. Miss Glass wrinkled her nose when I told her about the female sharpshooters.
"I suppose you enjoyed that part," she said to Willie.
Willie merely lifted a shoulder and sipped her tea.
"What about the rest of the exhibition?" Matt asked. "Did the Americans dazzle you with their ingenuity?"
"We didn't stay long," Willie said before I could answer. "We looked at some stalls then left. Didn't we, India?"
I glanced from her to Duke to Cyclops. It would seem they weren't going to mention meeting the show's crew afterward or last night. I didn't like lying to Matt, even if it were only a lie of omission, but I didn't want them to be upset with me for tattling.
"How is your dress coming along, India?" Miss Glass asked, saving me from making a decision.
"My wedding dress?"
"Yes, dear, of course I mean your wedding dress."
"Fine, I think."
"You ought to see the dressmaker and ask how she's progressing. You can't let these people think you've forgotten about them or they take too long."
"She's hardly going to think I've forgotten about my wedding dress," I said. "Now, tell us about the ceremony. Did Patience look happy?"
"Did Cox?" Willie muttered into her teacup.
"She looked radiant," Matt said.
"She looked well," his aunt countered. "As well as a plain girl can look. He seemed content enough. It's hard to tell with him."
"Ain't that how the English lords like it?" Cyclops asked. "All stiff and formal so no one knows when they're happy?"
"That's somewhat of an exaggeration," I said. "But perhaps not so much for Lord Cox. He does have a reserved way about him." It was probably because he felt he had to live up to a higher standard than most, to avoid scandal. I wondered if that was just his way or if he was like that because he shouldn't be a lord at all. The half-brother he'd never met should have inherited their father's title, but having never known his father, he'd been cut off from his birthright without even being aware of it.
"Thankfully not all the English are like that," Duke said. "Ain't that right, Cyclops?"
Cyclops's eye narrowed. "I suppose," he said carefully.
Duke smirked. "Some are real friendly. Real friendly indeed."
Cyclops lowered his teacup. It looked dainty with his big hand wrapped around it and the handle sticking out away from him. "What are you getting at?"
Duke smirked. "You came home smelling like violets yesterday."
Cyclops grunted. "You don't even know what violets smell like."
"They smell like a woman and that's what I smelled on you when you came home."
"Are you courting someone?" Miss Glass asked. "Is it Catherine Mason?"
Cyclops set his teacup down in the saucer. "Duke got into a fight last night."
Miss Glass gasped. "Over Catherine Mason?"
"No," I said, taking her hand. "Perhaps you should rest. You must be tired after the journey."
"I am tired, but now I want to hear about the fight. Are you hurt, Duke?"
"I'm fine," he said with a pointed glare for Cyclops. "And I only got into a fight because he insulted India and Willie."
"Mostly Willie," I said.
"Ain't nothing I've never heard before," she said. "But you know how Duke gets, Matt."
"What happened?" Matt asked.
"We were at a pub," Duke said. "And it weren't a fight, just one punch to shut his damned mouth. It was one of them Americans from the show."
Willie finally told the story of how we met them after the show and then again at The Prince of Wales. "I'm sure he cheated," she said, "but damned if I know how."
"It doesn't matter now," I said. "At least you walked away when you did."
"I don't like being cheated, India. I ain't green nor a fool."
"Nobody thinks you are."
"He does! They all do, even that idiot, Danny Draper."
"Sounds to me like he was in on it," Matt said.
"I don't know," Willie said. "He seemed genuine."
Cyclops nodded. "If he were in on it, then his wife wasn't aware. She got real worried he'd lose more than he could afford."
"I don't understand," Miss Glass said. "How could the second man be involved if it were all a trick carried out by the other one, Emmett?"
"It starts with the first game, played at the show ground pavilion," Matt said. "Danny loses on purpose so Willie thinks he's a hopeless player. Emmett wins some and loses some in a normal pattern that doesn't raise alarm bells. That's just to entice Willie back later to play again. That's when Emmett cheats. He wins everything from Willie and Danny, and hopes to drag Willie in for even more. Or perhaps so she'll return the following night, hoping to win back what she lost. With Danny losing so easily, she thinks she can at least win some of the time. It also makes the game seem authentic because a man's not supposed to cheat a friend."
"Emmett gives Danny some of the winnings later," Cyclops added. "So Danny never really loses."
"Diabolical." Miss Glass cast Willie a sympathetic look. "Don't feel ashamed that you fell for such an elaborate trick, Willemina. They sound very clever, very organized."
Willie sank further into the chair. "I wanted to work out how Emmett cheated. I could have stopped earlier if I wanted to."
Not a single one of us believed that, but nobody wanted to say so.
Miss Glass retired to her room to rest before dinner. Matt took her place beside me on the sofa, close enough so that he sat on my skirt. He grasped my hand and rested it on his thigh.
"Now that she's gone we don't have to drink tea," Willie announced. "Who wants a brandy?"<
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"There's brandy in the library," Matt said.
Willie pointed at the sideboard. "There's brandy right here, too."
"They want to be alone," Duke told her.
"And miss out on our excellent company? I don't think so."
Everyone stared at her.
"It were a joke," she said. "Come on, you two big lugs. Let’s get drunk before dinner to remind Miss Glass what she's been missing."
"There's something else we need to tell you, Matt," Cyclops said. "Something India saw last night."
"It was someone, actually," I said. "And I'm not even sure what it means, or if it means anything at all."
"Go on," Matt prompted.
"I saw Sir Charles Whittacker in the pub. It was odd considering it was filled with Americans from the show."
"Was he alone?"
"I think so, but it was hard to tell."
"It might be nothing," he said, deep in thought.
"He saw us too," I said. "At least I think he did. He quickly looked away."
"Could just be a coincidence," Willie said. "He might want to mingle with the cast and crew of the show. He might be half in love with Annie Oakley. Most folk are."
"Are you?" Duke asked.
"I got better things to do with my time than make cow eyes at a married actress."
"She ain't an actress, she's a sharpshooter. And what have you got to do that's more important than meeting her? Ah, right, I remember. Losing at poker."
Willie thumped his arm. "You're a turd."
He chuckled and led them out of the drawing room.
"Are you worried about seeing Whittacker again?" Matt asked when we were alone.
"Merely curious," I said. "I'm sure I saw him at the bareknuckle fights that night but he denied being there. And now he turns up at The Prince of Wales on the same night we're there. If I see him a third time in an unexpected place, I'll start thinking he's following me."
"I'll confront him."
"No, Matt, don't. I was joking. He isn't following me."
"He might be. Perhaps he's spying on you for Coyle. Coyle wants your magical services, and the only way to do that is to find out something about you that you don't want made public, or don't want me to know about." His lips curved into a slow, delicious smile. "He doesn't realize I know everything about you."
I swallowed the panic rising up my throat. Coyle already had something on me. If Matt found out I'd gone to Coyle for information about Lord Cox… I didn't want to think what would happen.
Matt leaned in and kissed the flesh beneath my ear. "Or almost everything," he murmured.
I closed my eyes and let all thoughts of Whittaker and Coyle drift away as Matt kissed my throat, my cheek, my chin and finally my mouth. He scooped me onto his lap and splayed his hand at the small of my back. There was tenderness in the kiss, and heat too, the combination proving to be a very real threat to my morality. I forgot we were in the drawing room, where anyone could walk in on us, and pressed myself into him, wanting his hands all over me—and his lips.
Matt smiled against my mouth. "The sooner we marry, the better."
"I agree," I said, drawing in a deep breath and the scent of him. "Two weeks. Not a day more."
He stole another kiss. "Did I mention how much I missed you?"
"You did, but you can mention it again."
"I missed you terribly, Miss India Steele," he murmured. "It wasn't right being there and not having you with me, and I told my uncle so. You're my fiancée, and you should have been invited."
"Even if I had, I would have found an excuse not to attend. It would have been too awkward."
"It was," he muttered. "People I've never met kept looking at me. They all seemed to know who I was."
"Or they could have been admiring the most handsome man in the room." I toyed with his hair, wrapping a dark strand around my finger. It was so short it only wound around once. "My only reason for going would have been to keep an eye on you." At his confused expression, I added, "Your health." I pressed my palm to his chest and could just detect his strong heartbeat through his waistcoat and shirt.
He lay his hand over mine. "The watch is working perfectly. I haven't felt unnaturally tired or needed to use it once since you and Gabe combined your magic in it."
"Not once? That is a relief."
"It's working as it should."
I folded him in my arms and pressed my lips to his forehead. I took a moment to capture the feeling and store it away. It was what happiness felt like, and I never wanted to forget it.
The headline said it all:
AMERICAN SHARPSHOOTER ROBBED AND KILLED.
"It's Emmett!" I said, peering over Matt's shoulder at the newspaper. I pointed to the picture. It was clearly Emmett, in all his mustachioed glory. "I can't believe it."
"What about him?" Cyclops asked, taking his seat opposite at the breakfast table with a single boiled egg and a slice of bacon on a plate.
"He's dead." Matt passed him the newspaper. "Shot through the chest."
Duke and Willie leaned toward Cyclops and read the headline .
"It was a bungled robbery, according to this." Cyclops tapped the paper then set it aside. "Tragic."
Willie picked up the paper and scanned the article. "Couldn't happen to a nicer fellow."
"Willie!" I cried.
"I wish I'd worked out how he cheated before he died."
"Let's not talk ill of the dead," I said, pouring myself a cup of tea at the sideboard.
"Why not? He was a cheater, I'm sure of it. Being dead don't change that fact."
I let the matter go. There was no point asking her to speak nicely about Emmett, but at least Miss Glass wasn't present to hear it.
Cyclops pushed his plate away. He'd only eaten the egg. "So now you're back, Matt, what are we doing today?"
It was a good question, and one I'd been contemplating since we'd decided to stay in London. In America, Matt had helped the law to bring gangs to justice. Sometimes he'd infiltrated those gangs, and other times, he'd investigated them using other means. In London, he had some investments to manage, but his man of business and lawyer usually took care of that. He was at a loose end. They all were. I worried to think what it might mean for London in general and our household in particular. Willie was already sinking back into her gambling ways. What would be next? And what would a bored Cyclops and Duke get up to?
"You going to eat that?" Willie asked Cyclops.
"No." He pushed the plate toward her.
Willie picked up the bacon, tipped her head back and slipped it into her mouth like a large lizard swallowing a smaller one. Duke watched on, impressed.
"Aren't you feeling well?" I asked Cyclops.
Cyclops clasped his hands over his stomach. "I feel fine. I look fat."
"You're not fat. You're simply a bigger man."
"He's fat," Willie said around the mouthful of bacon. "London life's been too good to him."
"I'm not ordinarily so idle," he said with a shrug. "I'm carrying a few extra pounds."
Duke mopped up the egg yolk on his plate with a piece of toast. "He wants to make sure he looks good for a certain pretty blonde."
"Shut it," Cyclops growled.
"Catherine?" I asked. "Are you two seeing one another?"
"No!"
"But he wants to," Duke teased. "He's getting ready, just in case she stops by. Last time she came for tea, he'd just come in from the stables and he was all dirty. Time before that, he had a bruise from when I punched him."
Willie chuckled. "And the time before that—"
"I'm leaving." Cyclops shoved his chair back. "The children are annoying."
"Stay away from the lilac water this time," Duke said, laughing.
"Next time I invite Catherine over, I'll give you advance notice," I said to Cyclops. "In fact, I haven't seen her in a few days. I'll invite her today."
"Don't bother," he muttered. "There ain't nothing between us and never will be." He s
macked a snickering Duke on the back of the head as he walked out.
Willie laughed harder.
"Don't tease him," I scolded them. "He's heartsick."
"Then he should do something about it," she said.
"Like you?" Duke grunted. "You're just as bad, pining over that nurse. Go and speak to her."
Willie snatched up the last piece of bacon from Duke's plate, also smacked him on the back of the head, and strode out without another word.
"You were supposed to speak to the nurse, India," Duke whispered across the table.
"I'd rather not," I said. "It's none of my business."
"Agreed," Matt said.
Duke sat back and tapped his finger on the table. I knew that look and didn't quite trust it, but if he wanted to interfere, then it wasn't my place to tell him not to. I doubted Willie would appreciate it, but that was Duke's risk to take.
"What do you think about helping out the sisters at the convent again?" Matt asked him.
Duke shrugged. "Sure. That place is held together by prayer and cobwebs. They can't pay us."
"I'll pay you."
"You won't get nothing for it."
"I'll get the three of you out of my hair. India, what are you doing today?"
"Going over the wedding menu one final time with Mrs. Bristow," I said. "And I'd better see how the dress is coming along, just to appease your aunt." I had a list of things to accomplish before the wedding, but none were urgent. All the plans had been set in motion already, and there was little to do now until the wedding itself.
Bristow entered and announced a visitor. "Detective Inspector Brockwell is here," he said. "He says it's urgent."
"I'll be right down," Matt said, rising.
"He's not here for you, sir. It's Mr. Duke he wishes to see."
Duke met Matt's gaze. "I think I know what this is about."
We greeted the inspector in the entrance hall where he stood holding his hat in both hands by the brim. The firm set of his jaw was worrying, but the two constables standing at his back were alarming.
"My apologies for the early hour," Brockwell said, punching out his consonants.
"You wish to speak to me?" Duke asked.
"I do. Come to Scotland Yard to answer some questions."
"Can't I answer them here?"