by C. J. Archer
"Come with me, Miss Steele," said the familiar voice of Bristow. "We'll go home and call the doctor. Is Mr. Glass…?"
"He's all right," I said, clutching the butler to stop myself falling. "He saved my life."
Bristow looked past me and then I was handed to someone else. Someone with familiar arms and smell. Someone who felt strong and capable, and not at all near death. Matt scooped me into his arms and I nestled into him, my head beneath his chin.
"Bristow, see to things here." Matt's voice rumbled through me, calming me a little. He was alive, thank God. "Bryce?" he added.
"Peter is with him now," Bristow said. "I don't know his condition yet, sir."
"Make sure he has all the care he needs. And my aunt?"
"Miss Glass is out."
"A small mercy," Matt muttered.
A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm me. I concentrated on breathing evenly and steadying my nerves, but it was an impossible task. I stopped crying, only to find that I'd begun to shake. I couldn't stop.
Matt carried me back to the house and Mrs. Bristow took charge, directing her daughter the maid to fetch clean cloths.
"Polly has already gone to fetch the doctor in anticipation," she assured Matt. "Take Miss Steele to her room and I'll be there— Sir! Your head. There's a lot of blood at the back. Are you injured badly?"
"I'm fine," he said.
He carried me up the stairs then laid me gently on my bed. He sat on the mattress beside me. "India, say something. You're too quiet."
I opened my eyes and blinked up at him. He was a marvelously wonderful sight, despite the blood, the disheveled hair and the deep worry lines scoring his forehead. "Am I not usually this quiet?"
He lifted my hand to his lips and smiled against my knuckles. "That's better."
I tried to sit up and, despite the pain in my right side, managed it with his help. The nausea had vanished, thank goodness, and I felt as though I had all my wits about me once again. "Your watch," I began. "It…saved you."
"That's what it's for."
"Yes, but—"
Mrs. Bristow entered carrying tea, her daughter behind her with an armful of towels. She ordered Matt to leave, and for a moment I thought he'd refuse but as Mrs. Bristow undid the buttons on my jacket, he bowed out and closed the door.
The housekeeper cleaned away some blood from a cut on my cheek and inspected my injuries. The doctor arrived some time later and inspected me all over again. He declared nothing to be broken but my hip and shoulder would sport bruises for a few weeks. The pain ought to lessen in a day or two.
He went in search of Matt, and I was left alone to rest. But I couldn't rest. My mind whirled with questions about Matt, Bryce and the horses, not to mention the shooter.
I gave up trying after an hour and dressed in a skirt, chemise and a waistcoat, without a corset. It seemed a little too difficult to manipulate my body into one with all the aches and pains. I threw my new shawl around my shoulders to hide my state of dishabille and went downstairs. I found Matt with Willie, Duke, Cyclops and his aunt in the sitting room.
"India!" Miss Glass held her hands out to me but Willie intercepted me before I could take them.
"I'm a little sore," I warned her before she could embrace me.
She looked me over, her hands hovering, searching for somewhere to touch me. I clasped them in mine and smiled at her. She smiled back, only for it to wobble. Tears filled her eyes. She pulled away and dashed the tears against her sleeve. To my surprise, she said nothing.
Miss Glass patted the sofa beside her. "Come sit by me, India. You look terrible. Your poor face." She inspected the cut on my cheek with a frown. "It will heal without a scar, so the doctor told Matthew."
"You saw the doctor?" I asked him.
He nodded. "Are you in pain?"
"Not overmuch," I lied.
Duke handed me a cup of tea and Cyclops offered me a scone. I accepted both and nibbled and sipped before setting them down.
"Can you please all stop staring?" I said. "And fussing," I added when Miss Glass removed the cushion at her back and passed it to me.
"You've had an ordeal," she said briskly. "And so have we. You must allow us to fuss or…" Her voice cracked and she sucked in her lower lip.
I leaned forward and she settled the cushion at my back.
"Are you injured?" I asked Matt, knowing full well that he'd suffered grave wounds. He seemed unaffected, however. He moved easily and didn't so much as wince.
"I appear to be unharmed," he said. "A slight scratch on the back of the head that gives me no trouble.
A slight scratch indeed.
"Matthew has a strong constitution," Miss Glass said with pride. "It takes more than an accident or illness to knock him off his feet."
"Aunt," he chided gently. "That's enough."
"India, too," she said, patting my arm. "Look at her! She's up and about already. Your cousins take to their beds for a week if they get so much as a sniffle."
"And Bryce?" I asked.
Matt lowered his heads and dragged both hands through his hair. "He died at the scene. I paid a call to his family while you rested. The other servants are upset but refused to take the rest of the day off. Mrs. Bristow says they'd rather be here for us during this difficult time."
I pressed a hand to my chest as a lump clogged my throat. There was nothing to say that could ease anyone's sorrow. Poor Bryce.
"Why did the horses startle like that?" Miss Glass asked after a weighty silence. "The neighbors claim they heard a loud noise. What do you think it was?"
Matt and I both sipped our tea.
"I heard someone say a gunshot," she went on. Cyclops, Duke and Willie all turned to her. "You must be careful, Harry," Miss Glass went on, her voice thin. "It's the Wild West, you know. Be sure to come back to England soon. It's much safer."
"I think you should rest, Aunt," Matt said, taking her arm.
Cyclops fetched Bristow and Polly.
"Thank you, Harry. Veronica? Where's my maid?" Miss Glass spied me and smiled. "There you are."
"I'll be with you soon," I told her gently.
Matt escorted her out and came back a few minutes later. He took the seat she'd vacated beside me. "Perhaps you should retire too," he said. "You look pale."
"As do you, although considering you died in that carriage, you could look much worse."
My response brought down a barrage of questions from his three friends. He scowled at me, but I didn't regret informing them. They ought to know.
He finally held up his hand for them to cease. "I used my watch," he said. "Or India put it in my hand, I suppose."
I told them what had happened in the carriage, not leaving out any of the details. "You seem to suffer no ill effects, Matt," I finished. "I didn't realize the watch would work on other injuries and illnesses."
"Neither did I, at first," he said. "Dr. Parsons suspected it would cure me of anything, but this is the first real test."
I touched his chin and turned his face away so I could inspect the back of his head. The wound had completely closed, leaving only a scar. He cleaned away some but not all of the blood. "It would seem he was right," I murmured. "Thank God."
"Amen," Willie added.
"But…" I bit my lip. I felt odd asking him my next question.
He arched his brows at me. "I know what you're going to say. Am I immortal? The answer is no. Dr. Parsons said I'll die one day. The watch won't stop my organs from aging. My body will change with time, as is natural."
"But until then…you will continue to live no matter what illness or accident befalls you."
"Unless the watch stops working or I can't get to it in time. There is only so long I can survive without blood pumping through my veins or air reaching my lungs."
The pronouncement weighed heavily on my shoulders. I couldn't help thinking of what might have happened if I hadn't got him to hold the watch in time, or if it had broken in the accident. I lifted a shaky hand to my lips and
blinked back tears.
"It's a miracle," Willie murmured.
"It's magic," Cyclops said. "Rare magic."
"What do you think startled the horses?" Duke asked. "A gunshot, like Miss Glass reckoned?"
Matt nodded. "There'll be a bullet lodged in the coach. I didn't see the shooter. India?"
I shook my head. "Coyle, again, I suppose."
"Most likely, considering our previous experience with his man."
"He's gone too far." Willie shot to her feet and pulled a small pistol from her waistband, much smaller than her usual Colt. Better to hide, I suspected. "Who's coming with me to pay him a visit?"
"Sit down," Matt ordered. "No one will confront Coyle. There's no point. He'll deny it, and without solid evidence, the police will do nothing. Besides, there's always the chance that it wasn't him."
"Who else could it be?" she asked, tucking the pistol away.
"Any of our suspects who turns out to be Hale's murderer. We've questioned them all again lately. This attack was a little different to the first one," he went on. "It's more cowardly, carried out from a distance. Perhaps that's Coyle's new man's style, or perhaps it's what a poisoner would do."
"So the net widens," Duke said with disgust. "We ain't getting closer."
"Nor are we going to get any closer," Matt said. "Our involvement in the investigation ends. Coyle, or whoever shot at us, has won. It's up to the police to catch the murderer now." He looked up at me and drew in a deep breath. "The risks are too great."
Nobody disagreed with him.
I set aside my teacup. "I need something stronger."
"Brandy," Duke said. "For all of us."
We ate an informal dinner in the dining room, a somber air pressing down on everyone. Matt spoke quietly of his intention to set up an annuity for Bryce's family and, we arranged to visit his lawyer in two days’ time, when I was hopefully moving more freely, so that the lawyer could arrange the annuity and the purchase of the Willesden cottage on my behalf too.
Cyclops, Duke and Willie played cards in the drawing room after dinner, while I sat and read, Matt beside me. At least, I intended to read. I couldn't concentrate, and then Matt spoke.
"I haven't had a chance to thank you," he said. "You saved my life, India, and I don't know how to repay you."
"You saved mine by taking the brunt of the impact. And besides, your watch saved your life, not me."
"I didn't get it out of my pocket. You did. Did you guess it might work?"
"My watch told me, in a way. In fact, I think it communicated with yours." I shrugged. "I don't know. It's all rather a blur now."
He lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I should have stopped after the first threat. This is my fault."
"No, it's not. I wanted to continue, too. Indeed, I wanted to continue more than you."
He rubbed his forehead as if a headache hammered away at it. "I'll report this incident to Brockwell tomorrow. He probably can't do anything about it, but he needs to know."
"Your head aches, doesn't it?"
He lowered his hand. "A little."
"I'd say it's more than a little. You ought to go to bed."
"I will if you will."
"This is hardly the time for a childish game of one-upmanship, Matt. But since I think I'm ready to rest, then I'll retire too. It's been a long day."
He escorted me up the stairs, despite my insistence that I was quite capable. My hip troubled me, but it was nothing compared to the trouble my heart caused. It flipped wildly in my chest when we stopped at my door. There was something about Matt tonight, something in his quiet manner, his intense gaze. I didn't know quite what to make of it.
"Goodnight," I said without turning to look at him.
He reached past me and took hold of the doorknob. "India." The whisper fanned my cheek and my heart stuttered again. He swept my hair back, brushing it over my shoulder.
I held my breath and waited for his kiss on my neck. It did not come.
I half turned, only to wish I hadn't. His smoky eyes fixed intently on me, and I felt as if he could see into my heart, mind and soul, and he knew what I felt for him. And yet he did not kiss me.
"Today was…an ordeal," he said. "When you were in here and I waited downstairs for the doctor's report…it's not a feeling I wish to experience again."
"It wasn't exactly a joy watching you die in the carriage either," I choked out.
He cupped my jaw and stroked his thumb along my cheek. My heart stopped its rapid rhythm only to swell to ten times its size. I tried hard to think of all the reasons I should push him away, but I could think of none. My mind blanked.
And then it was too late. He kissed me.
It was gentle and kind, and a little tentative. Not quite a lover's kiss, but then, how should a lover's kiss feel? I was no expert. This was my first real kiss and it was with someone very special to me. Someone I admired and liked, perhaps even loved. Someone forbidden and so far above me that he should not be kissing me like this.
And yet I did not pull away. Propriety and principles be damned. I wanted this kiss, this man, and I wanted to know how it felt to be desired. It was almost impossible to consider that Matt desired me, and yet here he was kissing me as thoroughly as I kissed him.
All the emotion of the afternoon surged through me like a tide, drowning out the voice of reason. There was just Matt and me, and the kiss that I wished would progress from gentle to passionate.
I stretched my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his. My shawl slipped down and I felt wanton, brazen, with only my chemise and a waistcoat covering my breasts. He must be able to feel them, and my rapidly beating heart.
He laid a hand on my hip and I gasped in pain against his mouth.
He broke the kiss. "Christ. I forgot. Did I hurt you?"
"No."
"I must have or you wouldn't have gasped like that."
"It's nothing. I'm fine."
I was not fine, but it wasn't my hip that hurt. My soul felt bruised as I stood there, his kiss lingering on my lips, and the gap between us widening. I could see the desire fading from his eyes and the disbelief and regret replacing it with every passing second. He did not speak for some time, but he didn't need to for my confidence to slowly recede. I folded my arms over my chest, tucking the ends of the shawl away.
"India, I'm sorry." He raked his fingers through his hair. "I don't know what came over me."
I shrugged off his concern, searching for words to serve back at him. But I couldn't find any. I didn't know what I wanted to say. Should I tell him I wanted to resume the kiss or pretend I did not? Pretend that all would be well between us in the morning? Or tell him that everything had changed now?
"Goodnight, Matt." I opened my door and rushed inside. I closed it without glancing back.
Matt and the others had gone out before I rose in the morning. I ate a light breakfast with Miss Glass in her rooms then read the newspaper to her. She didn't appear to be listening, however. I couldn't concentrate and skipped words and, once, an entire paragraph. She made no comment, but continued to stare out the window at the street below. Perhaps the events of the day before troubled her so much that she couldn't take her mind off them.
I knew how she felt. Between Bryce's death, my injuries, Matt's resurrection, and the kiss, my own mind spun like a top. Thank goodness Miss Glass didn't know about that kiss. I couldn't sit through a lecture about the importance of Matt marrying well. I must ask him not to mention it to her. Or to anyone, for that matter.
Perhaps he'd already come to the same conclusion, hence his absence. I hoped so. The shorter that conversation, the better.
Miss Glass sat forward on the chair and peered straight down at the street below. "Someone comes," she said. "A gentleman."
"Someone for Matt," I said.
But a moment later, Peter announced that Oscar Barratt wished to speak to me in the drawing room.
"Did you tell him Mr. Glass wasn't
at home?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am. He insisted that you would do just as well."
"Come, India." Miss Glass rose and held out her hand to me. "I'll chaperone you."
"I hardly need a chaperone to speak to Mr. Barratt."
She touched my chin and inspected the cut on my cheek. "You'll do."
"Do? For what purpose?"
"For the purpose of catching his eye."
"Miss Glass!"
"Don't play coy with me, India. I know you too well. This fellow may be perfect for you."
"You've never met him," I said, following her out.
"I am about to." She marched on, a formidable erectness to her spine. She would not deviate from her matchmaking mission.
"Miss Steele!" Mr. Barratt rose from the armchair by the fire and smiled broadly. "I am beside myself with relief at seeing you looking well. I read about the accident in this morning's papers. I hoped the reports of your good health were correct and that your condition did not deteriorate overnight. I am very happy to see you unharmed, aside from the scratch."
"Thank you, Mr. Barratt. As you can see, I am quite well. The scratch is minor." I introduced him to Miss Glass. After a brief exchange, she sat on the sofa and proceeded not to say another word.
"The papers said your coachman died," Mr. Barratt went on once settled again in the armchair. "It must have been a terrible accident.
"It was."
"And yet here you are, mostly uninjured. Remarkable."
"I do sport some bruises," I told him tightly. "Nothing of concern, however."
He winced and gave me a sheepish shrug. "I'm sorry, Miss Steele. I don't mean to sound like a journalist fishing for information. It's a terrible habit of mine. I want us to be friends, considering our…" His gaze flicked to Miss Glass. "…our similarities."
"Your friendship is most welcome," I said. "I'd like that too."
His face flushed ever so slightly. It made him seem vulnerable, and I liked him a little more for it. "Tell me about the accident," he said. "The papers mentioned the horses were startled but did not say how. They claimed Mr. Glass also walked away unscathed. I hope that's true."
"He's unharmed," I said.
"Good to hear."
"As to the horses being startled, we heard a gunshot."