The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele Book 3)

by C. J. Archer

  "Home, Duke," Matt said to his friend, sitting on the coachman's seat. We'd taken out the second carriage, and Duke had offered to drive us. He and Cyclops would share coachman duties until another could be employed. Nobody pressed Matt to interview replacements. Bryce's death was still a sensitive topic.

  We'd purchased a handsome gold double hunter case watch from Catherine's father. It wasn't the most expensive watch in the shop, but it was the best. I couldn't wait to get it home and make sure it was in perfect working order. Mr. Mason assured me that it was, but I ought to check. Indeed, it had been Matt's idea.

  "You said yet," Matt said as we drove off. His grin was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a scowl. I missed the smile.

  "Pardon?"

  "You said that Barratt can't possibly go to the theater with you yet." His fingers tapped his thigh and the wall behind my left ear drew his gaze. "You still plan on going with him?"

  "I don't know. I haven't thought about it. I've had other things on my mind."

  His gaze flew to mine. "Such as?"

  "So many things." His kisses and kindnesses, mostly, but that discussion could not be borne now. "Such as the notion of bringing magic into the open."

  He blinked slowly. "Ah."

  "I've been thinking about Mr. Barratt's notion of writing articles about magic. They couldn't be overt, at first, but a subtle and slow introduction to the art of magic would bring it into the public consciousness. Newspapers are powerful, Matt. They can affect public opinion on a grand scale. Look at Dr. Hale's Cure-All. Its reputation made it into the newspapers and sales rocketed, then plummeted again after reports of Hale's death. Imagine harnessing that power on the side of magic. With Barratt reporting on the good it can do, the public will surely become favorable to us. With the public on our side, governments will change their policies and the guilds would become less effective. They're only powerful now because successive governments let them become powerful, but public opinion would change that in our favor." The more I spoke, the more the idea excited me. It had excited Oscar Barratt too, and I could see why. "If we want to keep magicians safe, then bringing magic into the open is the only way to do it."

  Matt didn't interrupt me, but I could see from his face that he didn't share my enthusiasm. While I felt as if I would bounce off the seat, he sat like an imposing statue, his brow furrowed in thought.

  "Newspapers are powerful," he finally said. "I agree with your there. But it's a gamble to think the public would come down on the side of magic, not against it."

  "You're a gambler."

  "I used to be. And you, India, are definitely not the risk-taking sort. Not on this scale."

  He leaned forward and rested his clasped hands on my knees. The intimate gesture did just as much to scramble my nerves as his kiss had.

  "I think it best if we keep magic a secret," he said.

  "We can't control Mr. Barratt. If he writes about it, then there's nothing we can do."

  "If he writes about you specifically, I'll wring his neck."

  "Thank you, Matt, but I can wring it myself." I wriggled my fingers. "I have big hands and his neck is not so thick."

  He laughed. "So…about the theater."

  "Yes?" I asked, finding it hard to catch my breath.

  "May I take you instead?"

  "Only if the others come with us." I said it before I could change my mind, before my resolve melted beneath his intense gaze.

  He sat back slowly. His hands fell away and caught the seat on either side of him. "You don't wish to be alone with me."

  "We're alone now."

  "Don't trifle with me, India." The flat, dull edge of his voice gave way to a hardness that I hated.

  I swallowed and forged on. "We need to discuss the kiss, Matt."

  "Apparently so."

  "It happened in the heat of the moment, after a trying, emotional day. We were both glad that the other was alive. That's all."

  He turned to the window and for a moment, I thought he would ignore me completely. "You have feelings for Barratt," he finally said.

  "No! This is nothing to do with him."

  "You seemed to like the kiss at the time."

  My face flamed, forcing me to look down at my lap. Even so, I felt his gaze on me.

  "You responded to it, India. Don't deny it."

  My fingers twined and untwined. I scrambled to find something to say to end this conversation before he managed to extract my true feelings and expose my lie. But I could think of nothing and the silence dragged on. I watched his rigid profile as we drove home through the streets . No, not my home. Not for much longer.

  Slowly, with each passing minute, his jaw softened. The veins in his neck didn't throb quite so much, and he unclenched his fist.

  "I see," he said so quietly I almost didn't hear him.

  "See what?"

  "Sometimes it's easy to forget that I'm ill," he said to his reflection. "Sometimes I allow myself to plan for the future. And then I remember that the future is not mine to plan for. Not until my watch is fixed."

  The ache in his voice squeezed my heart. My eyelids fluttered closed. I couldn't bear to look at him anymore.

  "I have no right to say what I said to you just now," he went on. "No right to assume. I have no claim over you because of one kiss. You must do what's best for you, India, and for your future. You're not a gambling woman, and it's unfair of me to expect you to gamble on me having a future at all."

  My throat closed and my eyes burned. It was both unbearably painful and thrilling at the same time. He sounded miserable, and yet to think that he cared enough for me to want to share more than a kiss…

  Somehow I managed to murmur an agreement and we spent the remainder of the journey to Park Street in uncomfortable silence. I did not regret withholding the real reason for my rejection. Matt, with his American ideals of equality, would dismiss the obstacles set by his aunt—and of England as a whole. He would see them as surmountable, and use his own parents as an example. But his father had not been the heir, and his mother didn't owe someone a debt of gratitude.

  Miss Glass wanted her nephew to have the sort of life a man in his position should have, and I wanted him to have the life he deserved. He'd not had a settled home in any single country as a child, and his adulthood had been fraught with danger. England could provide him with a family that didn't feel as though he'd betrayed them, and a home that no one could take away from him. A home where he was the master. A wife with the proper connections would help him become a powerful force in any field he chose.

  But with me, he'd never be more than the American upstart whose mother's family were outlaws. I could not help him rise above that like a woman of Hope Glass's or Lady Abbington's stature could.

  "As soon as the Willesden house is settled, I'll move there," I told him.

  He turned sharply to face me.

  "It's for the best," I went on, unable to look at him.

  "Good, you're here, India, and she's not," Willie said, bursting in on me in the sitting room.

  I'd taken luncheon in there with Miss Glass but she'd gone out afterward to make calls. She'd wanted Matt to go with her but he'd declined. They'd argued about it until Matt refused to discuss it any further. She'd left, her steps a little heavier as she walked up Park Street.

  I worried that Matt would seek me out to talk to me. I wasn't ready for another discussion about his future—our future—so soon after the last one. It was draining. He hadn't, however, but I was far from glad. Relieved, yes, but not glad.

  "I'm alone, if that's what you mean," I said to Willie.

  She poured herself a cup of tea and, finding it cold, screwed up her nose and set the cup down. She threw herself into a chair. Her hair fell out of its loose knot and tumbled around her shoulders in loose waves.

  "You look very pretty this afternoon," I said.

  "What?"

  "Miss Glass would think your hair is a mess, but I think it suits you. It frames your face nic
ely."

  She snorted and wiped her hand across her nose. "Don't be a ninny."

  "I know you think you're proving a point by behaving like a man, and an uncouth one at that, but I'm not fooled. Nor is Duke."

  "What's he got to do with anything?"

  "You ought to give him a chance. Don't be so cruel to him when he's only trying to be nice to you."

  "Nice to me! He lectures me and tells me what to do all the time. He gets on my nerves."

  I smiled down at Matt's new watch, its inner workings laid out on the table before me.

  She planted both feet on the floor and stood. "Wait here. I need to get Matt."

  She left before I could stop her. I busied myself with the watch, returning parts to the housing while I waited, only to find it took longer than expected. My mind was not on the task this afternoon.

  "Right," Willie announced upon re-entering. "Sit down, both of you. I've got something to say."

  Matt stood by the hearth, his cool gaze on his cousin. He hadn't so much as looked my way.

  "I went for a walk alone," Willie said. She hadn't sat either, preferring to pace. Her agitated state had me intrigued. I set down my tools. "I wanted to think," she went on. "And I've realized something. Something about you, India."

  "Me?" I blinked at her. "You'd better go on."

  "We made the mistake of assuming Dr. Hale was the only magical one in the business partnership with Mr. Pitt."

  "We shouldn't have," Matt agreed. "So? What's that got to do with India?"

  "What if she's the product of two magicians, not one?"

  "By product, you mean child," I said.

  "Grandchild. That journalist reckons your grandmother was the magician, but we know Chronos is."

  "You're jumping to the conclusion that Chronos is my grandfather. I don't think he is. He hasn't sought me ought since he's been in London, and he didn't come to his own son's funeral." My voice trembled, catching me unawares. Why was I so emotional about a man I never knew?

  Matt's hand touched my shoulder. His thumb brushed the underside of my jaw.

  And then he withdrew it and sat on a chair. "Both your grandparents being magicians would explain why your magic is strong," he said.

  "It's not that strong."

  "It is. Mr. Gibbons thought so. I think so."

  "There's no reason why two timepiece magicians couldn't have married," Willie said. "It's likely, when you think about it. Their families would have known each other. They both had an interest in watches and clocks." She brushed her hands together and headed to the door. "That's my work done for the day, then. I'm off to meet Cyclops and Duke at the Cross Keys for a drink. Care to join me, India? I can teach you some drinking games."

  "Not today," I said.

  I watched her go and almost wished Matt would go with her to avoid the inevitable awkwardness. He didn't get up, and I found I was grateful for his company. The sooner we worked through this phase and became comfortable with one another again, the better.

  I closed the watch's case and handed it to Matt, only to regret giving it up. Now I had nothing to hold. I clasped my hands in my lap instead. "Matt," I began. "I want us to remain friends."

  "As do I." If he was as nervous as me, he didn't show it. He looked as calm and assured as ever. It was grossly unfair.

  "I want things to be the way they were between us," I said.

  "They will be, India. I promise. Although it'll be harder with you living elsewhere."

  "I'll be here every day that I'm required."

  "Then you might as well stay. You'll be here more than you'll be at the cottage."

  I smiled at him and he smiled back. It was a good start.

  "Have you told my aunt yet?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "I'm summoning the courage."

  "Speak to her in my presence. I'll be an ally if you need it."

  "You will?" I must have looked utterly stunned because he chuckled.

  "India, I'll always be on your side, no matter what."

  "Even when I want to do something you don't agree with?"

  "You mean like move away and live elsewhere? Yes, even then. I'll grumble to myself in the quiet of my own room, but outwardly, I'll support you. It's the best I can do."

  "It's enough, Matt. Thank you."

  His smile turned wistful, sad. I blinked back tears and looked down at my linked hands.

  "Matt!" Willie's screech filled the entire house, making it difficult to tell where it came from. "Matt, come quick!"

  He sprang from the chair and sprinted out the door. I followed, but could not keep up.

  "Willie!" he shouted back. "What's wrong?"

  I did not hear her response. I caught up to them at the top of the stairs, looking down at the entrance hall below. Bristow stood by the front door, removing the coat and hat of the white haired visitor. The visitor seemed not to hear him. He stared up at us.

  "Pierre DuPont," I said on a rush of breath. I recognized him from the brief moment I'd seen him at Worthey's factory before he'd run off.

  "It's him," Willie said, grinning broadly. "It's him, Matt."

  "Chronos," Matt whispered.

  Thank God. We'd found him. We'd found the man who could repair Matt's watch. He was here and he could not run away with Cyclops standing behind him, blocking the exit.

  Chronos did not look like he wanted to run off. His gaze swept over Matt, then he nodded in recognition. Matt returned it.

  Finally Chronos's gaze settled on me. He didn't even blink as Matt and I headed downstairs, side by side. It unnerved me.

  The closer we got, the clearer the lines on the man's face became. He was certainly old, the pattern of wrinkles telling a long and convoluted story. His snowy beard was full but the hair on his head light and wispy. He had clear eyes, however. Clear and clever.

  Matt extended his hand. "My name is Matthew Glass," he said. "You saved my life in Broken Creek, New Mexico, five years ago. I've been looking for you."

  Chronos hesitated then shook his hand. "You've found me." He once again looked at me. I wanted to shrink into Matt's side, but stood my ground. Chronos—DuPont—had an unnerving stare. He also had no French accent. It was utterly English.

  "This is Miss Steele," Matt said. "Miss India Steele, daughter of Elliot Steele."

  Chronos nodded, unsurprised. "So your friend told me on the way here." He extended his hand to me. I took it. He did not wear gloves and his hand was cool and rough; a working man's hands. "The last time I saw you, India, you were a babe in your mother's arms."

  I blinked back at him. My eyes felt huge in my head and my hand small in his. "You're my grandfather."

  It felt so right that I knew it must be true, even before he said, "Yes, I am."

  THE END

  Coming soon:

  THE MAGICIAN’S DIARY

  The 4th book in the Glass and Steele series by C.J. Archer.

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  A Message From The Author

  I hope you enjoyed reading THE APOTHECARY’S POISON as much as I enjoyed writing it. As an independent author, getting the word out about my book is vital to its success, so if you liked this book please consider telling your friends and writing a review at the store where you purchased it. If you would like to be contacted when I release a new book, subscribe to my newsletter at http://cjarcher.com/contact-cj/newsletter/. You will only be contacted when I have a new book out.

  Also by C.J. Archer

  SERIES WITH 2 OR MORE BOOKS

  Glass and Steele

  The Ministry of Curiosities Series

  The Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy

  The 1st Freak House Trilogy

  The 2nd Freak House Trilogy

  The 3rd Freak House Trilogy

  The Assassins Guild Series

  Lord Hawkesbury's Players Series

  The Witchblade Chronicles

  SIN
GLE TITLES NOT IN A SERIES

  Courting His Countess

  Surrender

  Redemption

  The Mercenary's Price

  About the Author

  C.J. Archer has loved history and books for as long as she can remember and feels fortunate that she found a way to combine the two. She spent her early childhood in the dramatic beauty of outback Queensland, Australia, but now lives in suburban Melbourne with her husband, two children and a mischievous black & white cat named Coco.

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