The Cheater's Game: Glass and Steele, #7

by C. J. Archer

  He lifted a hand in a dismissive wave. "Something could have been arranged to insure the continuation of his magic."

  I barked out a laugh. He didn't know Mr. Hendry very well at all if he thought it would be that easy.

  "Hendry knew a spell to turn paper into weapons," Matt said. "That made his magic far more dangerous than any other. I, for one, don't think its disappearance should be mourned."

  Lord Coyle removed a cigar from his pocket and plugged it into his mouth.

  "No smoking in here, please," I said. "I don't want the books to smell."

  He removed the cigar but didn't return it to his pocket. He wedged it between his fingers and pointed at Matt. "You should never have meddled in this affair."

  "Brockwell would have found the killer without our help," Matt said.

  "I'm not so certain." Coyle regarded me from beneath pendulous, fleshy eyelids. On the surface, he looked indolent, but I knew him to be a man of action. If his desires were thwarted, he had the means and power to follow through on his threats. "I would appreciate it if you didn't meddle again in affairs that don't concern you," he added.

  "This concerned us," I said quickly. "Duke was a suspect. We initially offered our assistance to the inspector because Duke was implicated."

  Coyle's lips puckered before he shoved the cigar between them. He rocked himself out of the chair and lumbered to his feet. "You've created a headache for me and work for my lawyers."

  "You're a fool, Coyle," Matt said. "Let justice take its natural course."

  I gasped. "You want to clear Hendry? But you can't! He's guilty."

  "Is he, Miss Steele? It's my understanding that Miss Campion didn't see the murder being committed nor did she see the person who cut her throat. Her story of cards flying about will be laughed out of court. I doubt Commissioner Munro will want magic mentioned at all, so what does that leave? Nothing. The prosecution do not have a case, let alone a solid one. My lawyer will tear it to shreds."

  "You would risk having that man roam the streets?" Matt growled. "All because you want the paper magic line to continue?"

  Lord Coyle walked off, his heavy, rolling gait slow but determined. "Don't worry. Hendry won't have any need to retaliate against either of you if the case is dismissed. I will, however, get an assurance from him that he'll leave you alone, if you like."

  "If we like!" Matt snapped.

  I shook my head at Matt in warning. He marched past Coyle, opened the library door then the front door, wide. Wisely, Coyle left without another word, and Matt slammed the door behind him.

  Willie and Miss Glass emerged from the sitting room. "What's all the commotion?" Miss Glass asked.

  "An unwelcome visitor," Matt said. "Don't trouble yourself, Aunt."

  She returned to the sitting room but Willie wasn't as easily dismissed. Matt told her that Lord Coyle would see that Mr. Hendry got off the murder charge.

  "It weren't ever going to be easy to convict him," she said. "Not if magic were kept out of it. Dotty ain't a good witness, since she didn't actually witness anything."

  "Coyle didn't have to make it easier," Matt said. Some of the steel had left his tone, however, and he no longer looked like he wanted to throttle Lord Coyle. "He's setting a dangerous precedent by interfering. Where will it end? How far will he go to protect magicians?"

  That was a sobering thought. The more I got to know Lord Coyle and his friends, the more it looked like they would do anything to keep their collections safe, and that meant keeping magicians safe. While it was admirable in theory, in situations like Hendry's, it undermined everything I believed in. Justice shouldn't be influenced by those seeking to bend it to suit themselves.

  The worst of it was that I felt quite helpless, and Matt must too.

  And he would not like feeling helpless. Not one bit.

  Detective Inspector Brockwell invited me to accompany him to see Dotty. He showed up on our doorstep, two days after Hendry's arrest, with the request when he could have sent a message.

  "Is she still in hospital?" I asked as I accepted my gloves from Bristow.

  Brockwell didn't seem to have heard me. He was too busy glancing up the staircase, his head cocked to the side as if he were listening.

  "Jasper!" I said to get his attention. "She isn't here."

  He removed his hat and scratched his sideburns. "I don't know who you're referring to, India."

  I smirked. "Acting coy doesn't suit you, Inspector."

  "What happened to Jasper?"

  "Nice attempt at a deflection." I accepted my hat from Bristow but did not put it on. "Are you sure you want me to go with you, or was it simply a ruse to come here and see Willie? I don't want to intrude."

  "No, no, please come. I'm not very good with women. If I'm not interrogating them, I get tongue tied and I blush a lot."

  "How did you manage with me?"

  "I pretended I was interrogating you. It helped." His face reddened, proving his point.

  "You're fine with Willie. Indeed, you seem to have won her over."

  "She's not a woman. I mean, she is a woman, just…different to most."

  "Very true," I said, following him out.

  "She's easy to talk to."

  I contemplated warning him that Willie might not be looking for a relationship with him, but I realized I wasn't sure what she wanted from Brockwell—or from anyone, for that matter. It was also none of my business. They could muddle through their affair without my opinion.

  We found Dotty where we'd last seen her, in the fourth hospital bed in the women's ward. Her color had improved considerably, and she no longer looked like a ghostly apparition. She smiled upon seeing us and I smiled back, even though my heart was heavy. What we were about to say would make her smile disappear.

  "How do you feel?" I asked.

  "Better," she said, her voice much stronger than the last time I'd seen her. "Still a little tired, but the doctor said that happens after substantial blood loss. They say I'm fortunate to be alive at all."

  "When will you be discharged?" Brockwell asked.

  "In a few days. Is the trial going to be soon?"

  Brockwell and I exchanged glances.

  "Only I'd like to go home to America as soon as the doctors say I'm able." She looked from Brockwell to me and back again. "What is it? What's wrong?"

  "It's not official," the inspector said, "but I wanted to keep you informed. There is unlikely to be a trial."

  "Why?"

  "Insufficient evidence."

  "I thought that fellow confessed when confronted."

  "He retracted it. He claims he was tricked into making it."

  Dotty touched the bandages at her throat. "So there'll be no justice for Emmett."

  "You'll be safe," Brockwell told her. "Hendry knows now that you can't identify him."

  I sat on the edge of the bed and touched her hand. "It's not fair." It sounded pathetic, but there was nothing more to say. Dotty was right; Emmett would receive no justice. Lord Coyle and his lawyers ought to feel ashamed of themselves.

  "There is also the matter of the Drapers," Brockwell went on. "It seems they have disappeared."

  "You can't find them?" I asked. "Good lord, this is turning into a debacle."

  Brockwell looked offended. "My men tried their best, India. They cannot be everywhere, on every road and at every port."

  I sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm frustrated."

  "I am not happy about it either."

  "They're experts at disappearing," Dotty told me. "They've done it before, so Emmett said. He never quite trusted them, which perhaps explains why he decided to cut Danny Draper out of his cheating scheme."

  "One must trust one's partner in crime," Brockwell said. At my arched look, he added, "So I've learned from years of catching criminals."

  We thanked Dotty and I promised to visit her again before she left England. Brockwell and I parted ways at the forecourt, only I didn't return home. I wanted to make another call, one that I didn'
t think would be particularly welcome. Not when they heard what I had to say.

  Chapter 17

  I was in luck. Not only was Mrs. Delancey at home, but she had another visitor whom I very much wanted to see too. Lady Louisa greeted me with slightly less effusiveness than her hostess, although she did look pleased to see me. Her smile waned, however, when I did not return it.

  "India, dear, what a lovely surprise." Mrs. Delancey beckoned me to sit beside her. When I refused, she looked devastated. "I insist. You must come and have tea and cake with us. Aren't we fortunate, Louisa? India, you are most welcome. We do enjoy your company. India?" She patted the cushion next to her again. "Sit. You're making my neck ache."

  I remained standing after the butler bowed out and shut the double doors. "This isn't a social call. I've come to tell you that you ought to be ashamed of yourselves for what you did."

  Mrs. Delancey clutched the black ribbon choker circling her throat. "My dear, I am not aware that we have done anything. Are you, Louisa?"

  Louisa set down her teacup on the table calmly and deliberately. I suspected she knew precisely what I was talking about. Mrs. Delancey, however, was either in the dark or was playing the silly female.

  "This is about Mr. Hendry, is it not?" Louisa asked.

  I nodded. "Lord Coyle's lawyer is working on his case, and he will likely succeed. Mr. Hendry won't even go to trial. He will walk free in a matter of days, perhaps hours."

  "But that's excellent news," Mrs. Delancey said. "So why are you upset, India?"

  "Because he's a murderer!"

  "Yes, but he's not dangerous. I believe his cousin threatened him. It's natural to strike out when backed into a corner."

  I hadn't expected understanding from her. It wasn't why I'd come. I had only wanted to make it known how I felt about the situation and about their involvement in it. "You are selfish and greedy," I said. "All of you."

  "Greedy?" Mrs. Delancey echoed.

  "Greedy for magic. You wish to possess it and control it."

  "No, India," Louisa said. "You are quite wrong on that score. We don't want to control magic. We want to protect it."

  Mrs. Delancey looked at her like she was mad. I suspected she and Mr. Delancey did want to possess magic, or the objects infused with magic. They were the sort of people who wanted a house full of unique, beautiful things, the rarer the better. They were greedy. Louisa was different. Professor Nash too, although he wasn't a member of the club. As to what Sir Charles Whittaker and Lord Coyle wanted, I no longer knew.

  "If Mr. Hendry harms anyone else, it will be your fault," I said. "All of you will be to blame for setting him free."

  Mrs. Delancey dismissed my concerns with a flick of her wrist. Her numerous rings flashed in the sunlight. "Don't worry about that. Mr. Hendry will be made to understand that he can't go about killing people. Lord Coyle will press it upon him and you know what his lordship is like. He can be quite persuasive in making one see his point of view."

  "Mr. Hendry should pay for his crime," I tried again.

  "Believe me, he will pay," Louisa said with a wry twist of her mouth. "He will be indebted to Lord Coyle, for one thing, and I do not advise that."

  Indeed.

  "He'll resist at first," Mrs. Delancey added, reaching for her teacup. "But he'll come to see it's the best course of action."

  "I don't understand," I said. "What course of action?"

  "He's going to marry and have children."

  I laughed. I couldn't help it. Like a sneeze, it erupted from the depths of me and just burst out. "You make it sound so simple, but I know he won't agree to that."

  "He will if he wishes to keep his magical gift quiet," Louisa said. "And avoid re-arrest."

  "Don't worry," Mrs. Delancey quipped. "It's all in hand. A suitable bride will be sought from among the best families."

  I cocked my head. "Best?"

  Mrs. Delancey and Louisa shared a look but neither clarified. I was quite certain that “best” in this context had to do with magic and not social standing.

  I couldn't quite believe it. While Lord Coyle had said the same thing, when he had called on us, I'd not really taken him seriously. One couldn't force a man to marry against his will, after all. Yet these two spoke of it as if it was inevitable, and Mr. Hendry's love for men not a consideration.

  "Now that you've got that off your chest, India, come and sit with us," Mrs. Delancey said, once again turning on a smile. "Let's get to know one another better."

  "I can't," I said. "There is one thing I wished to ask you, though, Louisa."

  Mrs. Delancey pouted at my snub.

  "Is this about Fabian?" Louisa asked.

  "Who?" Mrs. Delancey said.

  If Mrs. Delancey knew nothing about Fabian Charbonneau then perhaps others in the collector's club didn't know about him either. Why had Louisa not informed them?

  "Why did you tell him about me?" I asked.

  "He's been looking for someone like you, someone with extraordinary power," Louisa said.

  "My power isn't proven."

  Louisa gave a languid, elegant shrug. "So I told him about you. His visit here is nothing to do with me. I didn't know he'd come until he showed up at my house."

  "Who is this fellow?" Mrs. Delancey pressed.

  "An old family friend with an interest in magic. He came from France to meet India. He wants to study the language of magic with her."

  I waited for Louisa to tell Mrs. Delancey about spell casting, and Fabian's belief that I could create new spells, but she did not. Mrs. Delancey seemed satisfied with the answer that Louisa offered.

  "Does Lord Coyle know about Fabian and his visit?" I asked.

  Louisa picked up her teacup and watched me over the rim. "I suspect so. He does tend to discover everything eventually."

  I couldn't argue with that.

  I managed to avoid Fabian Charbonneau by either pretending not to be at home or claiming to have a headache. I even heard Matt tell the Frenchman that I was suffering from delicate nerves before our upcoming wedding. I almost gave myself away when I giggled on the landing.

  "The funny thing is," I told Matt later, when we sat together in the drawing room, "I'm not in the least nervous about getting married."

  "I am," he said, stretching out his long legs.

  "Sad to see your bachelor days end? Worried we'll grow bored with one another? Or that we'll grow apart? Afraid your unique edges will be smoothed?"

  He frowned at me. "I'm not, but now I'm worried about how you feel."

  "I don't think we'll grow bored. We'll be fine, particularly if the children stay with us." I nodded at the door through which Cyclops and Duke entered.

  "You are," Duke baited his friend.

  "Am not," Cyclops growled back.

  "You are."

  "Say it again and I'll thump you."

  "You—" Duke swallowed the rest of his words when Cyclops rounded on him. He ducked away and came to stand beside me, as if I could protect him.

  "Dare I ask what you two are arguing about?" I said.

  "Nothing," Cyclops mumbled, striding to the window. He paused, glanced outside, and returned to the door but didn't exit.

  Sensing the danger had passed, Duke sprawled on the sofa and crossed his arms. "He won't admit he's moping."

  Cyclops crossed the floor to the window again. This time he didn't even look out but turned and strode back. "That's because I ain't."

  "Then why are you wearing my rug thin?" Matt asked idly.

  Cyclops looked at the rug beneath his feet and sat on the sofa, rubbing his palms down his thighs. "Catherine sent a message earlier. She says Ronnie is anxious about the guild test tomorrow. She thinks he's not going to even try because he doesn't think he can pass."

  "See?" Duke said smugly. "You do care for Catherine. If you didn't, you wouldn't worry about this."

  Cyclops lowered his head, and I shot Duke a glare. He wisely clamped his mouth shut.

  "This means a
lot to you," Matt said quietly.

  "It means a lot to her," Cyclops said. "She wants to be a woman of independent means, and this is the only way. If she opens the shop with her brother, they can move out of their parents’ home, and she can keep house for him and assist in the shop. It's what she wants."

  "Catherine has always had a strong character," I told them. "When she sets her mind to something, she doesn't stop until she achieves it."

  I didn't tell them that I was mostly referring to her flirtations. She used to flit from one fellow to the next, leaving broken hearts in her wake. Until Cyclops. She was no longer distracted by compliments and charm at every turn. Setting her heart on something as grown up as a shop was a welcome change. A year ago, I would have thought it a passing whim, like her flirtations, but not anymore. Now it was different. She was different.

  "I hope Ronnie attends the guild at the scheduled time," Cyclops went on. "Catherine is worried he won't."

  "It's only three days away now," Miss Glass said as she entered the drawing room, Willie at her heels.

  "No, it's tomorrow," Cyclops told her.

  "The wedding is tomorrow?"

  "Never mind. You're right, the wedding is three days away."

  Miss Glass patted her heart. "For a moment there, I thought I'd had one of my turns again and lost two whole days. Thank goodness there's still time."

  "Time for what?" Matt asked with a worried glance at me. I didn't know what she was talking about either, either. Hopefully it wasn't about her family coming to the wedding after all.

  "For Willemina to find a dress to wear," she said.

  Silence.

  Duke and Cyclops erupted in laughter. Matt appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek to contain his smile.

  Willie's face darkened. "I ain't wearing a dress. India says I don't have to, so I ain't."

  "India is being polite," Miss Glass said, picking up her spectacles from the table. "She really does want you to wear a dress." She put the spectacles on and gave Willie a thorough inspection. "Something in pink, perhaps."