by C. J. Archer
He looked away.
"Allow me to read it."
He squared his shoulders. "Are you giving me orders now? I seem to recall I employ you."
"I saved your life. I think that gives me certain privileges."
He laughed. "You're a formidable woman."
Other men might consider that a negative trait, as Eddie certainly had, and my friend Catherine Mason's brothers. But it amused Matt. It was nice to be liked for being myself and not have to hide my forthrightness under a polite façade all the time.
"You'd better come in after all," he said.
"But someone may see." I glanced up and down the corridor. No one was about, but someone might come up the stairs at any moment and see me heading into or out of his rooms. I teetered on the edge of respectability by living in Matt's house as it was, but at least his aunt didn't think anything sordid in the arrangement. I didn't want her opinion of me to sink.
"You do know that I could ravish you in the carriage when we're alone together if I wished."
"Why do you think I keep the curtains open?"
He laughed. "Wait here, then."
I smiled at his back. Not just because I liked admiring the straps of muscle across his shoulders and the V shape of his upper body, but also because I enjoyed his company when he was like this. He might be lightly teasing me, but I didn't mind, and I liked to think I served it back to him in equal measure.
"I knew it," he said, turning and catching me staring. "I knew you secretly wanted to look at my nakedness."
"I had to look at something, since your face was averted. It was a battle between your back and the floor."
"And my handsome back won."
"I should have chosen the floor," I said, accepting the note. "It's not so arrogant as to think it's a distraction." I read the note as he waited, arms crossed over his chest again. I had to read it twice because I didn't take it all in the first time.
It was indeed from Commissioner Munro, and it did ask for an update on our investigation. However, it went on to mention that a man claiming to be an American sheriff visited him and warned him against trusting Matt. Munro didn't say whether he believed the man or not, but I thought it a point in Matt's favor that he was informing him at all.
I folded the note and gave it back to him. "This must be the sheriff you recently learned had followed you here."
"Payne. He's corrupt, and that makes him more dangerous than most of the outlaws in America, because he can literally get away with murder. He wants me dead because I'm the only one who knows he's corrupt."
"The other lawmen don't believe you?"
He shook his head. "Not even the good ones who employ me. Payne has covered his tracks well. For every crime I've accused him of, he's countered with a valid reason to explain his actions."
"Why would he come all the way over here to get you?"
"I have fewer friends here, particularly on the police force."
"You'd better watch out for people following you." I shivered, remembering the problems we'd had with the Dark Rider. The outlaw had followed us here, broken into the house, befriended me, and tried all manner of tricks to hurt Matt. It would seem it was about to start again.
He took my hand and squeezed. "He won't be as blatant as the Dark Rider," he said gently. "It's too risky, and he doesn't like risk. He stays low, and uses more subtle methods to achieve his ends. That's how he's managed to avoid the notice of the honest lawmen."
"He may be more subtle, but you're still in danger." I placed my other hand over his, trapping it. "You must be extra careful."
"So must you. We've been spending so much time together…" At my frown, he added, "The Dark Rider assumed you were special to me. Sheriff Payne might too."
"Oh. Yes, of course. But that doesn't give you an excuse to leave me behind and continue the investigation without me."
"I wouldn't dare."
"I don't think you should be on your own right now. Safety in numbers."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Matt, I'm serious."
He leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. It was a light, chaste kiss, over in less than a second, but it jangled my nerves nevertheless. "I appreciate your concern."
The kiss quite stole my breath so I couldn't respond, just stand there like a fool, with his hand trapped between mine.
"Goodnight, India." He glanced down the corridor to the staircase. "You should go to bed." He pulled his hand free, gave me a wan smile, and closed the door.
"Goodnight, Matt."
An invitation to dine with Lord and Lady Rycroft arrived the following morning, but only for Matt and Miss Glass. The only person it bothered was Matt. I was quite content not to sit through another social engagement with the Glass girls and their parents.
"I'm not attending unless we're all invited," he told his aunt when she presented it to him.
Miss Glass folded the thick cream card in half and ran her thumbnail along the fold. "Don't be absurd. This is England, Matthew. Whether you like it or not, we do things a particular way here. There's no cause to be put out. India and Willie aren't."
"You don't even like your brother's family," he declared. "Nor do you wish me to be tied in matrimony to any of your nieces. Why do you want me to go at all?"
"Because we're family."
He looked as if he'd protest again, then shut his mouth and sighed heavily.
"Just be sure not to fall for the girls' charms," Miss Glass said.
Willie snickered. "They have charms? The way you described them, Matt, they didn't sound charming."
"Hope has a certain way about her that some men like," Miss Glass said. "But she's a devious minx and cannot be trusted. If you find yourself seated next to her, you must converse with the person on your other side, no matter who that is. Understand?"
"I'm quite sure I said I'm not going," he told her.
"We both know you are."
Willie snorted as she and Duke put on their hats. "I'm sorry I'm going to miss it now," she said. "Might be fun to see you drowning in dull conversation."
Matt appealed to me. "Can you think of anything that would save me?"
The only thing that may save him would be his health, but he didn't want his aunt to know about his illness. I shook my head. "Shouldn't you be going? It's getting late."
He pulled my watch from his pocket and flipped open the cover with slow, deliberate moves that were no doubt meant to tease me. "It's still early. But you're right, I ought to see Munro. Enjoy your morning, ladies." He shot me a smile as he returned my watch to his pocket. "Have a lovely time."
I narrowed my gaze at him, which only made his smile brighter.
He headed out with Duke and Willie. Cyclops had already left to go to the guild's hall. I tried to read in the sitting room with Miss Glass, but found it difficult to concentrate. The clock on the mantel beckoned me to turn it back around. I eyed Miss Glass, sitting on the sofa with embroidery in her lap. Would she tell Matt if I peeked at the time?
I was saved from my dilemma by callers. "Mrs. and Miss Haviland, madam," Bristow announced. "I've put them in the drawing room."
Miss Glass dropped her embroidery and clapped her hands. "The Havilands! How delightful. I haven't seen my old friend in an age. Thank you, Bristow. We'll be down in a moment."
"We?" I echoed.
"You are my companion when you're not being Matthew's assistant. Come along."
Two women who were clearly mother and daughter, going by their similar oval faces and blue eyes, rose from the sofa. "Letitia," said the mother smoothly. "How lovely it is to see you again. When I heard you were living here with your nephew, I knew I had to call upon you."
Did she mean she wanted to see Matthew or Miss Glass? Or both?
Miss Glass greeted Miss Haviland and introduced me. I was offered polite smiles and given only cursory glances. The gazes of both ladies slipped past me to the door.
"Is he here?" Mrs. Haviland asked.
"Ha
rry is overseas at the moment," Miss Glass said.
My heart sank. Miss Glass was confused again, thinking Matt was his father. The Haviland women glanced at one another.
"Mr. Matthew Glass is out," I told them.
"Oh." Mrs. Haviland glanced at the door again. Looking for an escape?
"Bristow is bringing tea."
"Are your family good friends of the Glasses, Miss Steele?" Mrs. Haviland asked.
"I met Mr. Glass a few weeks ago when he was looking at watches in my father's shop."
Mrs. Haviland's lips pursed. "A shopkeeper? Oh. How…interesting. Letitia, do you know when Matthew will return? We've got a busy morning making calls, but I did so want to meet him."
"He'll be home soon," Miss Glass said. "I'm sure he would like to meet you too."
Bristow arrived with tea and cake. Miss Haviland reached for a slice of cake only to whip her hand back when her mother glared at her. She sipped her tea instead and looked utterly bored—and hungry.
"How pretty you are, Miss Haviland," Miss Glass said. "You were only a little girl when I last saw you."
"I don't like to seem boastful," Mrs. Haviland said, "but my Oriel is very accomplished." She smiled at her daughter. Oriel Haviland returned it. "She can sing, play the pianoforte and the harp, draw, paint, sew, and is an excellent horsewoman."
"Goodness. It's a wonder a gentleman hasn't snapped you up already." I couldn't quite discern whether Miss Glass was being serious or sarcastic. "Matthew will be very pleased to make your acquaintance, I'm sure. He does appreciate a well accomplished young lady, particularly a pretty one."
"How long will your nephew be in London, Miss Glass?" Mrs. Haviland asked.
"He won't be returning to America."
"Is that so? We've heard conflicting reports."
"Reports?" I echoed. "From whom?"
"Everyone," Oriel Haviland said, speaking for the first time. "He's quite the topic of discussion wherever we go, isn't he, Mama?"
Miss Glass sat a little taller at this news. "Of course he is. My nephew is a fine gentleman. He's tall, charming, clever, good natured, and very handsome."
The Haviland women glanced at the door but, when nobody entered, sighed into their teacups.
We stumbled through polite conversation for what I gauged to be less than half an hour, thank goodness. Any more would have been painful for all of us. The Havilands clearly weren't interested in Miss Glass, only Matt. Discussion frequently returned to him, sometimes steered there by Miss Glass, and other times, by Mrs. Haviland. Her daughter mostly stayed silent, although I frequently caught her looking at me.
Finally, Mrs. Haviland finished her tea and glanced at the clock on the mantel. "Goodness, is that the time? We must be going."
I looked at the clock, but it still faced the wrong way. Miss Haviland, seeing my smile, blushed.
"Please tell Mr. Glass we're disappointed that we missed him," her mother said. "You must call on us, Letitia, with your nephew, of course. You'll both be most welcome. Make it soon. Oriel will be on tenterhooks until she meets your intriguing nephew, won't you, my dear?"
"Yes, Mama."
Miss Glass tugged on the bell pull and Bristow arrived to see the Havilands out.
"What a charming girl," Miss Glass said once they were out of earshot.
"How do you know?" I said. "She hardly opened her mouth."
"That's precisely what made her so charming. No one wants to listen to the chatter of silly young girls. I wonder if she's as accomplished as her mother claims. She can't possibly be, surely. No one is good at everything."
"I hardly call music, art and horseriding everything. What of her wit? Is she well informed? Can she have an interesting discussion?"
Miss Glass made a scoffing noise. "Honestly, India, you do like to be difficult sometimes. It would be unfortunate for Matthew if you were choosing a bride for him."
"I was under the impression he would choose his own bride. Actually, he said he's not looking for one at all at the moment."
She waved her hand as she sat. "All men say that, and yet all men marry, don't they? Come. Read to me while I rest my eyes."
I read to her for what felt like an age, until Bristow announced another caller. This one, however, had come to see me.
"Catherine!" I hugged my friend tightly. "It's so good to see you. I've missed you terribly." It wasn't until I said it that I realized how true it was. Ever since going to live with Matt, I felt as if my life had been split into two distinct parts: before Father died and after. Before his death, I'd lived a carefree, happy and uneventful existence. After, I'd been chased, accused of theft, discovered I may be magical, almost been killed, and seen first-hand how cruel London's elite could be. Catherine was a link to my old life, a place where I'd felt safe, welcomed and loved. Although I liked Matt and his friends, I didn't really belong in his home or his life. My melancholy thoughts brought tears to my eyes and I quickly looked away.
Not before Catherine saw them. "India, what's the matter? Is everything all right?" She glanced at Miss Glass, sitting serenely on the sofa. She had not risen, and seemed unaware of Catherine's presence. Mine, too, I'd wager. She'd fallen into her own world again, where her beloved brother still lived.
"Everything is well," I assured Catherine. "Seeing you makes me a little homesick for my old life, that's all. I miss my father."
She hugged me again. "I know. It's been so difficult for you lately." She took my hand and steered me to the window, away from Miss Glass. "Are you quite sure Mr. Glass treats you well?" she whispered.
"Very well. Everyone here has been kind to me. Don't worry." I took her hands and squeezed. "Tell me your news."
"Well." She perched on the window sill and fixed her wide blue gaze on mine. "Mr. Abercrombie from the guild came to visit my father yesterday."
My stomach rolled at the mention of the Watchmakers' Guild master. I despised him as much as he despised me. At least I had good reason—he'd falsely accused me of theft and blocked my entry into the guild.
"Do you know what he and your father discussed?" I asked.
"I listened in." A wicked gleam lit up her eyes. Catherine was mostly a good girl, and certainly immature, but she had a lot of spirit. The prospect of an adventure lured her more than it did me. "He warned Papa to keep you at a distance."
I groaned and slumped against the window frame. "Why won't he leave me alone?"
"He even went so far as to say that our friendship should not be encouraged. Can you believe such a man! Who is he to say who I can and cannot be friends with?"
I clasped her hands. "How did your father respond?"
"He said he'll warn me, but that I'm often willful and do as I please. Abercrombie told him a father ought to control his children, not let them run wild." She bit her lip, and her gazed darkened. "India, he also told Papa that you need to be kept out of the watch and clock trade."
I had a horrible feeling about this. "Why?"
"That's the odd thing. Papa didn't ask for an explanation. He told Mr. Abercrombie that you were a good person, and that this wasn't your fault. I don't know what he was referring to. Do you?"
"No," I said with as much conviction as I could muster. But I did know.
"Papa told him he has no authority over you, and that he can't stop you from seeking work in the watch trade. However, he assured Abercrombie that you're now employed here, and have nothing to do with timepieces. India, it was the oddest conversation. What could it be about?"
I shook my head. "Was there anything else?"
"He changed direction entirely and mentioned something about the Mapmakers' Guild."
I sucked in a breath and held it. "Go on."
"I lost interest so didn't listen after that. I was still mulling over what he'd said about you. All I heard him say was something about another being found in the Mapmakers' Guild."
Another.
"Whatever it means, it's not important to your situation. Oh, India, why is he bei
ng so beastly toward you?"
I didn't answer. I simply stared at her sweet, innocent face. She was the same age as Daniel, the “another” Abercrombie must be referring to. Another magician, besides me. So he did know what I was—it was a certainty now. But how did the master of the Watchmakers' Guild get involved with the affairs of the Mapmakers'?
More importantly, was he involved in Daniel's disappearance?
Chapter 7
"India?" Catherine touched my cheek. "You look pale. Are you all right?"
I nodded. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine." I took her hand and led her to an armchair then I sat alongside Miss Glass on the sofa. I needed to divert the conversation before Catherine asked some pointed questions. "Tell me the things you've been doing of late. Tell me about your Mr. Wilcox."
"Is he your paramour?" Miss Glass asked, suddenly alert. "I do love hearing about paramours from you young things. Tell me, is he handsome? Charming?"
Catherine's lips flattened and her hands twisted in her lap. "He's neither of those."
I'd hoped she would prattle on, like she often did when discussing one of her conquests, so that I didn't have to think too hard, but she fell into silence. "Is something the matter, Catherine?"
She sighed. "The more time I spend in Mr. Wilcox's company, the more I can see you were right, India."
"Me?"
"He's respectable, steady, and kind."
"He sounds admirable," Miss Glass said.
"But you don't want respectable, steady and kind," I said quietly. "Do you, Catherine? You want exciting and interesting."
"I do want kind, most assuredly. But, yes," she muttered into her chin, "a little bit of excitement wouldn't go astray. Oh, India, I feel awful for saying so, but I want someone who'll take me to a show on his day off rather than suggest a walk. I want a man who'll laugh at my silly jokes, not look at me like I'm mad."
"Don't feel awful," I told her. "If that's what you want in a suitor, then you should wait for him. The right man will come along. What does your mother say?"
"I haven't discussed it with her. She wants to see me settled with a sensible man, and Mr. Wilcox is very sensible."