by C. J. Archer
"Pink!"
"You're right, pink is too feminine, and no one believes you to be feminine."
Duke hooted and slapped his knee. "Go on, Willie, get a pink dress for the wedding. Do it for Cyclops. He needs a good laugh."
Cyclops wiped the tear off his cheek but couldn't stop his grin. "I'll pay you to wear a pink dress with lace and ribbons, Willie."
Duke slapped Cyclops's shoulder and they fell over one another, laughing. There was nothing like teasing the third member of the trio to bring the other two closer together.
Miss Glass pinched Willie's shirtsleeves at the shoulders. Willie jerked away. "I ain't wearing a dress, Letty, so don't go sizing me up. If a dressmaker delivers anything with a skirt for me, on the morning of the wedding, I'll send her away again."
Miss Glass peered over the rim of her spectacles. "At least put on a new waistcoat and jacket."
Willie looked down at her waistcoat and brushed at a stain to no avail. "All right, but it won't be pink."
Miss Glass clapped her hands. "Marvelous! I know a dressmaker who specializes in waistcoats and jackets. She takes her cues from gentlemen's outfits, but they're suited to a woman's shape. You'll look very becoming, Willemina, as long as you wear trousers and not buckskins." She fixed her gaze on Willie's buckskins. "I don't suppose you'll consider riding breeches?"
"No!"
"Lady Kitty Hargrave wears a blue riding habit with white trousers from a Saville Row tailor, and she's quite the fashion setter."
"She sounds like someone I'll like." Willie gave her a hard smile. "Introduce us and I'll go to her tailor."
I wasn't sure Miss Glass fully understood Willie's meaning at first, but then a slow blush crept up her cheeks.
"Your usual trousers will be fine," she said, removing her spectacles.
She sat as Bristow entered the drawing room. "Mr. Gideon Steele," he announced.
Chronos stepped around Bristow and greeted Miss Glass with a small bow. "Good afternoon, madam. Isn't this a pleasant family gathering?"
She looked taken aback by his deference and pleasantness. Usually Chronos paid her very little mind, but now he gave her his full attention and a smile. "How are you, Mr. Steele?" she asked.
"I'm fit as a fiddle, thank you." He turned to Willie. "And you, Willie? How are you?"
"Fine," Willie said, as confused by Chronos's attention as the rest of us.
"India driving you mad with her bridal demands?" He chuckled.
"No."
"She's very fortunate to be marrying into such a diverse and interesting family," he went on. "There'll never be a dull moment, eh, Cyclops?"
Cyclops's eye narrowed. "Are you feeling all right, sir?"
"Very well indeed." Chronos eyed a spare chair and arched his brow. "May I?"
"Of course," Matt said. "You know you don't need an invitation to join us. You're always welcome here."
"Thank you. Most kind." Chronos sat. "You're very lucky to be marrying such a fine gentleman, India." He was up to something, but I couldn't decide if I ought to be worried or not.
"Dinner is still two hours away," I told them.
He put up his hands. "No, no, no, that's not why I'm here."
"Then why are you here?"
"To see my granddaughter before she weds."
"The wedding is three days away, and you're invited. That's three days on which you can see me, including the day itself. Or are you going somewhere? Will you miss it?"
"I wouldn't miss it for the world. You're my one and only grandchild, and a wedding is a special day. Of course I'll be there."
If only he'd made an effort to be with me on other important days of my life, I might have believed him. "Come now, Chronos. Out with it. What do you want?"
"India," he purred. "I don't have an ulterior motive for seeing you."
I arched my brows and waited.
The silence weighed heavily until he finally sighed. "Very well. I want to know if you've invited Gabriel Seaford to the wedding."
"Of course. It's the least we can do after he saved Matt's life. Besides, we like him. He's a good man."
"And you wish to remain friends. Good, good. Very wise. Keep him close. It'll make it easier, next time. You ought to consider asking him to join you on your honeymoon, too."
Matt barked a laugh, but I simply stared at Chronos. He was utterly serious, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized his point was a valid one. What if Matt's watch stopped working while we were away? It would take days to return from France. Days that he might not have to spare.
Miss Glass collected her spectacles and book and stood. "If you're going to have such a morbid discussion, I'm leaving."
Chronos waited until she was gone before addressing me again. "I've just come from the hospital where Gabe works; he told me you haven't even brought up the topic of the watch with him since that day."
"Why were you visiting Gabe?" When he avoided my gaze, I added, "This is about Fabian, isn't it? Did you introduce him to Gabe?"
"No." I glared at Chronos, and he eventually slumped into the chair. He wasn't a good liar, just a frequent one. "Yes," he muttered.
"Fabian wanted to find out more about Gabe's doctoring magic, didn't he?"
"Can you blame him? Gabe's magic is incredibly rare." He pointed at Matt. "He did something so fantastic that it's hard to believe. Fabian simply wanted to talk to him about the experience, magician to magician."
"And question him about the words he used?" Matt prompted. "To help fill the gaps in Charbonneau's knowledge?"
I clicked my tongue. "Honestly, Chronos, you've got quite a nerve. Poor Gabe is new to his magic and is probably still coming to terms with his power."
"Not to mention he was at work," Matt said. "A place where he can't freely discuss magic."
"They get busy in hospitals," Willie chimed in with authority.
"As it turns out, he didn't have much time to talk to Fabian," Chronos said with a defiant lift of his chin.
"So you came here," Matt said. "You hoped to learn if Gabe is coming to the wedding so you could talk to him there, perhaps encourage him to seek Fabian out."
I gasped. "Chronos! That's low, even for you. There will be no talk of magic at the wedding. Is that clear?"
"But—"
"Is that clear?"
He crossed his arms and pouted, looking every inch the defiant child after a scolding.
"Did Fabian send you here?" I asked.
"He mentioned that you've been avoiding him." He straightened. "So I thought I'd try to persuade you to talk to him."
I stood and peered through the window. I spotted Fabian loitering several doors away. He saw me and lifted a hand in a wave. I beckoned him to come and informed Bristow to let him in.
"Does your invitation mean you'll help him?" Chronos asked, eyes brightening.
"It means I refuse to let an acquaintance stand outside on a warm day when I could offer him refreshments inside."
Chronos's mood lifted upon Fabian's entry, although he restrained himself and did not bring up the topic of magic again. Peter brought in tea and I poured. I'd expected Duke, Willie and Cyclops to make their excuses and leave, but they seemed curious about Fabian. He seemed just as interested in them.
"You are from the Wild West show, no?" he asked, indicating Willie's clothing.
"Lord, no," Willie blurted out. "Our outfits are gen-u-ine, not like what them two-bit actors wear."
"Actors? Are they not real cowboys and natives?"
"They can ride and shoot, but they're actors, mark my words. They shoot at tin cans and cigarette boxes." She tapped her chest. "We shoot at real outlaws, on account of we work for the law back home. Here, too. Did you read about the murder of that American sharpshooter?"
"Ah, yes, India and Mr. Glass captured the killer, no?"
"And me," Willie said. "I helped."
"Then you will perhaps know he is being released soon," Fabian said to me.
"
How do you know?" I asked.
"I just know."
"I bet you do," Matt muttered.
"Fabian has contacts, both on the continent and here," Chronos said. "He knows everything that happens in the world of magic and magicians. It's likely he knew about Lord Coyle freeing Hendry before you did, India."
"Are you a friend to Lord Coyle and his group of collectors?" I asked Fabian.
"Not a friend, no," Fabian said. "They are artless."
"You can still be friends to them. The artless are not our enemy."
Fabian's gaze flicked to the faces of my friends. He gave me a tight smile. "Of course."
"Hendry will owe Coyle for the rest of his life," Chronos bit off. "It's deplorable."
"Why?" Duke asked.
"Because Hendry is a magician. He shouldn't owe an artless anything. He should be lauded, revered by the likes of Coyle."
Fabian nodded slowly. "I agree, naturellement. And yet I also agree with Coyle's terms. How can you not, mon ami?"
"What terms?" Cyclops asked.
"Marriage and children," I said. "Lord Coyle and his friends want to see the paper magic bloodline continue. Since Mr. Hendry is the only living paper magician, the future of the lineage is in his hands."
"He won't like it," Willie said with a shake of her head.
Fabian contemplated his teacup. "Then he should not have killed the only other paper magician who could father children."
"That's all that matters to you lot, ain't it?" Willie spat. "The continuation of the line, the future of magic. You don't care what Hendry wants."
"I said I was against it!" Chronos cried.
"You're just like Oscar Barratt, railroading everyone, forcing them into your way of thinking. What about fairness? Justice? Maybe India would rather live a quiet life than be an object of curiosity. Maybe some magicians don't want to practice their magic because they know the trouble it'll cause. Maybe some don't want to change who they are to secure the future of their lineage."
I suspected that last statement was the main point of Willie's tirade. I wished I were sitting closer, to take her hand and reassure her that no one would ask her to change. We liked her just the way she was.
She shot to her feet and stormed out before I could say anything, however. I watched her go, wondering if I ought to follow. Duke rose and gave me a reassuring smile before leaving too.
Fabian apologized and looked rather sheepish, but Chronos seemed to forget about Willie the moment she was out of sight.
"Speaking of Barratt," he said. "He told us of the difficulties he had with his printer. Forgive me, but I have to ask." He cleared his throat. "Was it you who threatened to expose the printer's illegal operation, Glass?"
Matt's gaze turned frosty. "No."
"You didn't have to ask," I said to Chronos. "Honestly, you're as subtle as…as Willie, sometimes. And I'm somewhat glad Oscar's book won't be printed. It's too soon. The world isn't ready."
"Ah, but it is ready, India. Look at the reception his articles produced." Chronos looked too smug for my liking.
"Has he found another printer already?" I asked.
"Perhaps," Fabian said. "We do not know Mr. Barratt's plans. They do not concern us. What does concern us, India, is your answer." He shifted forward on the chair and clasped his hands together. "May I be so bold as to ask if you will consider researching spells with me?"
I pressed my fingers to my temple. It was all a little too much, coming so soon after Hendry's arrest and release, especially with the wedding only days away.
"India," Matt said gently. "You don't need to give an answer yet."
"I say," Chronos spluttered. "Let her speak."
"Matt's right," I said. "I won't be considering your request until after the honeymoon, Fabian. Besides, I doubt whether I'm as powerful as everyone thinks I am. My new watch doesn't even chime when I'm in danger. It's likely the old one did as a result of the magic my father put into it, not me."
Chronos snorted. "Your father wasn't all that powerful."
"How do you know? You said yourself that you know very little about him. Perhaps he kept the strength of his powers from you. Perhaps he kept a spell from you."
"And how would he have learned a spell to make a watch save someone's life? Either from me or your grandmother, that's who, but neither of us knew such a spell."
"She might have, but you wouldn't know, since you abandoned her. It's likely she kept certain things from you, considering the way you neglected her."
"I didn't neglect her." He sounded like a sulking child again. "I gave her everything she wanted, including leaving her."
I pushed to my feet. "Good day to you both. I have wedding preparations to see to."
"There is one way to know if you are powerful or not." Fabian's quietly confident words stopped me by the door. I didn't like that he knew such a statement would intrigue me, yet I couldn't deny that it did.
"Go on," I said.
He rose and approached me. "A powerful magician will be a spell caster. If you can create new spells, India, then you are powerful, and the magic in the watch will have come from you. If you cannot, then…" He shrugged. "We will work together to find out, if you like. After your honeymoon, of course."
"Of course," I murmured.
He took my hand and kissed the back of it. "My warmest congratulations to you both."
I watched him leave, my heart in my throat and my head feeling stuffed with wool. I thought I might have just agreed to work with him.
Chapter 18
"I don't like him," Matt said.
I tucked a strand of hair under my cap, adjusted my neckerchief, and hitched up my trousers. A thorough inspection of my reflection in the dressing table mirror brought a smile of satisfaction to my face. If I angled my head down, and pulled the cap low, I could pass as a man, thanks to my height. Although the overcoat would have to be large to adequately hide my breasts.
"So you've already told me, Matt. Several times."
He leaned against the closed door to my bedroom and crossed his arms, looking every bit the brooding Byronic hero. I tried not to smile. It would only make him self-conscious. "Not several," he mumbled. "Only three."
"It's understandable that Fabian wants to explore my magic with me. He has been studying the language for years, and now he has the opportunity to fill in some gaps in his knowledge. In theory, anyway. The reality might be quite different." I smiled at him in the reflection. "But we'll worry about it after our honeymoon. We have quite enough on our plate at the moment."
He responded with a grunt.
I turned and performed a bow. "How do I look?"
His gaze swept down my length and settled on my breasts, straining against the shirt and braces. He pushed off from the door and prowled toward me, a devilish smile curving his lips. "I like it."
"You're not supposed to like it."
He settled his hands on my hips and nuzzled my throat above the collar. "Ask Willie if you can keep the outfit."
I swatted his arm but succumbed to his kisses and roaming hands, only for a few minutes, before I pulled away. "We have to go. It's time."
He sighed and checked his watch. "Put on the coat. If the servants ask why we're dressed like this, tell them we're doing maintenance at the convent."
"In the evening? They won't believe us." I reached for the coat lying across the bed. "Anyway, it's not the servants you have to worry about. They're too discreet to ask questions. Your aunt, however, is a different story."
"Good point. I'll go first. If the coast is clear, I'll whistle."
The clandestine exercise promised to be thrilling—until we arrived at The Worshipful Company of Watchmakers' hall on Warwick Lane. My visits to the guild hall had not gone well in the past. Not a single one. Hopefully this time would be different—for all our sakes.
We'd passed the lamplighter, on our way into the lane, carrying a long pole on his shoulder. He'd touched his cap brim, paused his whistling long eno
ugh to wish us a good evening, and continued on.
"He didn't realize I was a woman," I whispered to Matt. "He thought we were both men."
"I'm still going to do all the talking," he said, pulling harder on the cart to outstrip me.
A man stood on the pavement, stretching his neck out of his collar as he peered up at the figures of Old Man Time and the emperor, represented in the guild's coat of arms, above the main entrance.
"There's Ronnie," I said. "He's nervous."
"Hopefully he'll change his mind and go home," Matt said, stopping at the service door.
"He'd better not. We're here now."
Ronnie nodded at us and knocked on the door. It opened and he was admitted. Matt waited a minute before he knocked on the service door. With my head bowed, I didn't see the face of the man who opened it, but his voice wasn't one I recognized. It was just as we'd hoped; the regular porter, who knew us all too well, worked only during the day. The night porter had taken over and, according to Ronnie, he wasn't the cleverest fellow. When Ronnie had requested his test be scheduled in the evening, to allow him to continue working for his father during the day, the guild had agreed.
Perhaps this visit would go smoothly after all.
"Delivery from Compton's Metalworks," Matt announced in a perfect Cockney accent. "Apologies for the lateness. One of the machines had a fault in the factory."
"There must be a mistake," the porter said. "We received a delivery from Compton's earlier."
"Aye, but only for half the order. This is the rest. Didn't the boys tell you?"
Willie's earlier reconnaissance, and subsequent questioning of the delivery men, had been fruitful. She'd learned of a delivery of parts from Compton's Metalworks factory. It had been Cyclops's idea to pretend the delivery hadn't been complete.
The porter stepped aside. "Take the boxes down to the storeroom."
"I know where it is," Matt said, picking a box off the cart. With the step up to the door, we couldn't wheel the cart inside.
"Even so, I'll take you."
Damnation. We needed to get rid of the porter.
I lifted a box too, pretending it weighed a lot when it was actually empty. We followed the porter through the building's service corridors to the storeroom out the back near the kitchen. Matt and I both deposited our boxes on the shelves and returned to the service entrance. The porter escorted us.