The Mapmaker's Apprentice (Glass and Steele Book 2)

by C. J. Archer

  His shoulders rounded. His eyes softened. "India," he murmured. He cupped my elbows and skimmed his thumbs gently over the bruises. "You told me he didn't hurt you."

  "Aye," Willie said, her mouth stretched into a flat line. "You did."

  I drew away and lowered the lace. "I bruise easily."

  Matt's gaze turned flinty. I preferred the softness, yet I didn't want his pity. "My study. Everyone. Now."

  I bristled. "Didn't we just have a discussion about you ordering me about?"

  "India," Willie hissed. "It ain't the time."

  Matt indicated I should walk ahead, probably so he could keep an eye on me and make sure I didn't retreat to the drawing room where he couldn't discuss the matter in front of his aunt. I suppose it was necessary to talk about it, but I felt as if I were participating in a funeral march.

  Matt's study wasn't large and the five of us filled it. Duke and Cyclops remained standing while Matt sat behind his desk, and Willie and I occupied the other chairs. I steeled myself for the barrage of questions.

  "Did you get a look at him?" Matt asked.

  "Not really," I said. "He was tall, hadn't shaved properly, and a small scar trailed through his stubble." I showed them where. "I didn't recognize him."

  "And he specifically mentioned Daniel and our investigation?"

  I nodded.

  "It seems to me that Abercrombie sent him, after your little visit last night."

  Duke shuffled his feet. "I didn't want to go," he muttered.

  "Shut it," Willie snapped. "We had to go."

  Matt turned his icy glare onto her. "I beg to differ. You do realize that Abercrombie now knows we're investigating Daniel's disappearance where before he didn't?"

  "Yes," I said. "Does it matter?"

  "He could alert Duffield."

  "Perhaps, but he doesn't know that we're using false names. If he says a man named Glass is looking for Daniel, it will mean nothing to Duffield." I pressed my hands on the chair arms and dug my fingers into the leather. "If we hadn't confronted him, we would still be in the dark as to whether Abercrombie knew Daniel or not. We can now be certain that he does. We also learned that he's not averse to employing thugs to get his way. That man today may have been paid by him, or he may have been paid by Daniel's kidnapper. I do think the latter more likely, as it happens."

  "Based on what evidence?"

  "Logic. Abercrombie already sent Eddie. Why would he send someone else?"

  "Because Eddie is not effective, or he came of his own volition, not at Abercrombie's urging." A muscle in Matt's jaw pulsed. "India, I don't take threats lightly. In my line of work, threats are usually followed up with action. I can't risk that. I won't risk it."

  "You don't have a choice, Matt. Willie and I are going to continue the search for Daniel whether you like it or not."

  He sat back in the chair and regarded me levelly, assessing me. It was unnerving, but I didn't glance away. "Willie?" he snapped.

  "This investigation might help us to find out more about magic," she said. "It might even lead us to Chronos."

  "Or it might not."

  She rounded the desk and crouched in front of him. "Abercrombie knows about Daniel." This quiet earnestness was most unlike her. "The two guilds seem to share information about magic. If there's a link, we have to follow it."

  He shook his head. His entire body seemed tightly wound, as if he were barely holding himself back from lashing out. It must frustrate him enormously to be thwarted, not only by the hooded man, but by us too.

  "Help us, Matt," I said. "We can do this together."

  He flicked his gaze to me then away. Behind the simmering anger, tiredness lurked. The exercise had worn him out.

  "I agree with Willie and India," Cyclops said. "We must continue."

  Everyone glanced at Duke. He heaved a sigh then nodded. "You know I don't choose to go against you lightly, Matt, but this time, they're right. If there's a chance this leads us to Chronos—"

  Matt's fist came down on the desk, rattling the pen in the stand. I jumped then swallowed my gasp. My nerves were more frayed than I realized. "God damn you all," he growled. "Every single one of you'll be the death of me before the watch expires."

  I breathed out a long breath. Willie's lips twitched in a smile and she stood.

  "So what now?" I asked. "Did Mr. Haviland know of any archaeologists?"

  He inclined his head. "There's a society. The president works at the British Museum. We'll visit tomorrow. In the meantime, everyone stays in the house. I'll instruct Bristow not to allow anyone in unless Aunt Letitia knows them." He stood abruptly and jerked his chin at the door. "Now go away before I say something I regret."

  "Get some rest, Matt," Cyclops said. "We'll all be fine without you for an hour."

  Matt's response was a narrow-eyed glare that didn't alarm the big man in the least.

  Unfortunately for me, I was the last one out. Matt took my hand and held me back after the others left. My stomach somersaulted. There was no mistaking his glare for a softening attitude. He was still as furious as ever.

  He bent his head to mine and his breath brushed the hair at my temple. It was somewhat ragged and shallow. "I don't like being backed into a corner, India. Particularly by my own friends."

  I stepped back, out of his immediate sphere. His power wasn't quite so ferocious with a little distance between us. "And I don't like being told what to do. So it seems we are at a standoff, as you Americans like to say."

  I walked off and did not look back.

  Later, as I sat in my rooms, Miss Glass's maid, Polly, delivered a bottle of tincture of arnica. "At Mr. Glass's request," she said.

  I rocked back on my heels. "Oh. Thank you, Polly." I sat at my dressing table and dropped a little of the tincture on my handkerchief then dabbed it on the bruises. It was kind of him to think of me. I hadn't expected him to remember the bruises; he'd been so riled. The bottle would indicate a truce, but he didn't come to apologize, either in person or via a note.

  It was unnerving. I didn't like this tension between us. Even though we were in separate parts of the house, I felt it keenly. I was about to rejoin Miss Glass, in the hope of seeing Matt too, when visitors arrived. From the landing, I spied Bristow opening the front door to a lady with twin daughters in tow. With a sigh, I returned to my room.

  I saw Matt at dinner, but we hardly spoke. No one did. Miss Glass carried most of the conversation, discussing each of her callers in great detail, and listing the charms of all the girls who'd visited. Her favorite was still Oriel Haviland. Matt had endured all of the calls in bad humor, according to his aunt's admonishment. He brought that bad humor with him to dinner, and took it away again immediately afterward when he retired early. I decided against knocking on his door and requesting a discussion to clear the air between us. Tomorrow would be better, after he'd had a chance to calm down.

  He still hadn't calmed down when we drove to the museum the following morning. He ordered the others to remain behind at the house, much to Willie's frustration. Since he didn't address his order to me, I assumed I was to go with him. When I appeared at the door with my hat and gloves, Matt simply indicated I should go ahead of him.

  "How long are you going to remain cross with everyone?" I asked as we drove off.

  "I'm not cross," he said, thrusting his hand into his glove. "I simply don't feel like talking much this morning."

  I leaned forward and peered closely at his face. The tiny lines around his eyes were certainly more prominent than usual for this time of day. "You didn't sleep very well."

  He looked out the window.

  "Matt, I know you're worried—"

  "Don't, India, or we'll only argue again."

  I pressed my lips together and checked my watch. I checked it again six minutes later. "This is excruciating. I think I'd rather argue with you than sit in silence."

  He slowly turned from the window to look at me. "You do like to tug on dragons' tails, I'll give y
ou that."

  "You're not a dragon."

  "Are you sure?" He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  I reached across the gap to touch his knee and offer support, but second thoughts forced me to withdraw. "I'm sure," was all I said.

  "I'm sorry, India." He opened his eyes. "I don't want to argue with you any more, either. It seems that neither of us is going to back down from our position, so we must live with our difference of opinion. At least, I must live with being in the position you forced me into."

  "With that attitude, you'll make a marvelous husband one day." At his fierce scowl I held up my hands. "A joke."

  "I'm glad someone finds my predicament amusing," he grumbled, but not with quite so much ferocity. "Aunt Letitia will not give up trying to marry me off, and I don't have the heart to refuse her altogether."

  "You're a good nephew. It must be horrid to be paraded in front of pretty girl after pretty girl. No man would wish to be in your position, forced to endure endless cups of tea with women who can't stop staring at him and think every word that drips from his lips is golden."

  That coaxed a lopsided smirk from him. "They are pretty," he said with a theatrical sigh. "Also accomplished, well bred, gently-born, and dull as mud."

  "Perhaps they will improve on longer acquaintance." The truth of that stung a little. Miss Glass had presented Matt with girls, not women; but girls grew into women and developed their own minds. As soon as those girls were away from their parents, I had no doubt they'd come into themselves and become people he did want to know better.

  "We're here," Matt announced.

  The stolid structure of the British Museum always comforted me whenever I ascended the steps and passed between the broad portico columns. With few options for entertainment available to me in my youth, I'd frequented the free museum many times. It had been the medieval manuscripts and ancient objects that intrigued me most, not coins.

  We inquired after Mr. Rosemont, the head of the Roman antiquities department, and were given directions to his office. We found it tucked behind the Romans in Britain rooms. A snowy haired gentleman didn't look up from the palm-sized stone he was inspecting through a monocle.

  "Put it over there," he ordered with a wave of his hand at the corner of the crowded room.

  Artifacts of all shapes and sizes covered every inch of every surface, including much of the floor. Very few women must enter Mr. Rosemont's den; my skirts brushed against statues, large jars and table legs. I had to catch a slender statue of a naked Roman gent when my skirts almost caused it to topple. I flushed red when I saw what part of the statue's anatomy I'd caught hold of.

  Mr. Rosemont raised his head upon hearing Matt's chuckle. "Oh. Pardon me, I thought you were the delivery lad." His florid cheeks and cherry red nose brightened more as he stood.

  "My name is Matthew Glass," Matt said, "and this is my assistant, Miss Steele. Are you Mr. Rosemont?"

  "I am." Mr. Rosemont shook Matt's hand then mine, somewhat limply. "How may I help you?"

  "We have a coin we'd like you to inspect. At least, we think it's a coin, although it has been used as a button."

  I opened my reticule and fished out the coin. I dropped it onto Mr. Rosemont's dusty palm. He pounced on it like a hungry dog on a bone. He turned it over, clicked his tongue at the shank, and turned it again.

  "Dear God."

  "What is it?" both Matt and I asked.

  "It is a coin. A gold solidus, to be exact, from the late fourth century." He pointed to the image outline with his little finger. "It's somewhat worn, but you can just make out two seated emperors holding a globe between them. Behind them is Victory with outspread wings. The reverse would show the head of Magnus Maximus, commander of Britain, later proclaimed western emperor, but the shank covers it. Bloody sacrilege. Pardon me, Miss Steele."

  "That's quite all right," I said. "I understand your frustration. Thank you for enlightening us." I held out my hand to receive the coin, but he didn't pass it to me.

  "Do you know what you have here?" he asked.

  "You just told us," Matt said. "A gold solidus from the reign of Magnus Maximus."

  "Oh yes, but this coin is so much more." Mr. Rosemont's tongue darted out, licking his lips.

  I held my breath. Could he feel the magic in it too?

  "It's extremely rare. It was minted right here in London, during a brief time when the city was known as Augusta. Maximus's short reign was beset with troubles. The mint closed soon after his death. What a marvelous find."

  "Is it valuable?" Matt asked.

  Rosemont sighed. "It would be, if it weren't desecrated like this. It may still be worth something if the shank can be removed without damaging the coin. You must tell me where you found it. There could be more."

  "A friend gave it to me and asked me to take care of it until such time as he could retrieve it."

  "Do you know where he found it? In a field? Beneath the foundations of a building?"

  "I don't know."

  Rosemont's face fell. "Pity. Could you ask your friend to come here and talk to me about it? I'm very interested in its origins."

  "If I can find him. My friend, McArdle, has gone missing, you see. I haven't been able to contact him. He's probably off looking for a hoard or some such thing. He's an archaeologist."

  "I know the fellow, but he doesn't belong to the London Archaeological Society." Rosemont's lips pursed. He removed his monocle and handed the coin back to me. "I'd hardly call him an archaeologist or antiquarian at all."

  He knew him! It wasn't easy to keep the smile off my face, so I took great interest in returning the coin to my reticule.

  "I don't want to offend you, sir," Rosemont said. "He is your friend, after all."

  "More of an acquaintance. Just between us," Matt said, leaning closer to Rosemont, "McArdle is a braggart when it comes to archaeology. I try to avoid such conversations with him"

  "A braggart. An apt description of the fellow, as is treasure hunter, or simply crackpot. The man has no care for true archaeology, for finding answers to questions about our history. He takes whatever he can of value from a dig and sells it to the highest bidder. Then there is the other matter, depending on whom you believe."

  "Other matter?"

  "Nothing. I shouldn't have mentioned it. Some who've come across McArdle say he's quite mad. I don't know about that, but he certainly has no morals. He's utterly corrupt." He stopped abruptly, as if embarrassed. He tugged on his waistcoat, leaving dusty handprints on the black cotton. "My apologies, Mr. Glass. I've offended you, after all."

  "Not in the least. Tell me, do you know where I can find him? I'd like to return the button. Er, coin. He's not at his Chelsea address."

  "I wouldn't have a clue."

  "Do you know where he's working?" I asked. "A man like him is always in pursuit of the next treasure."

  Rosemont returned to his chair and placed the monocle to his eye. "There are a number of treasures he might be in search of. I don't know him well enough to guess where he could be."

  "What about coin hoards?" Matt asked. "Are there any here in London that he might be looking for?"

  Rosemont's monocle dropped. It swung on its silver chain before settling against his chest. "A hoard here in London? Unlikely. None have ever been discovered in the city."

  "What about archaeological digs? Are there any currently being conducted by members of your society?"

  "Two, both overseen by Mr. Young, as they're both in the same street. One is actually complete and is being filled in as we speak. The other is active and occupies most of Mr. Young's attention. But McArdle isn't a member of the society and won't be involved."

  Our options were thinning. If we couldn't find McArdle, what should we do next? Where should we go?

  Matt, however, had not given up. "Nevertheless, perhaps he has appeared at one of the digs in an observational capacity. Your archaeologist may have seen him. Can you tell me where to find Mr. Youn
g's sites?"

  "If you insist. But it may be easier if I show you." Rosemont flipped through a stack of papers on one of the desks until he found what he was looking for. "This map shows the sites here."

  I hardly took notice of the area he tapped with his monocle. It was the map itself that intrigued me. It covered the exact same area of the city as Daniel's map. I met Matt's gaze. He'd noticed too.

  "Why only this part of London?" Matt asked.

  "That's the original walled Roman city, as far as we can tell. The entire wall no longer exists, of course, but we have evidence supporting the theory of its location. There was activity outside the walls, but this area intrigues us most. It was the heart of Roman Londinium."

  "Thank you," Matt said. "We'll visit the digs this afternoon."

  "I doubt you'll find McArdle there, but you're free to visit. The mosaic floor found at the active site is rather beautiful. Not that McArdle would find it so. He's far more interested in his own search."

  "For treasure?" I asked.

  "Not just treasure, Miss Steele. For magic."

  Chapter 10

  "Magic?" I whispered. Beside me, Matt had gone quite still.

  Mr. Rosemont shook his head and sat at his workbench again. "As I said, the man is barking. He once told a fellow antiquarian that he was searching for evidence of ancient magic in Roman artifacts buried beneath London's streets. That resulted in a great deal of laughter, and he never mentioned it again." The eye behind the monocle gleamed with humor. "Beware of that coin, Miss Steele. It may come alive and perform a jig."

  Matt laughed, and I followed suit. His sounded genuine, but mine was hollow to my ears. "I had no idea McArdle believed such nonsense," he said with a shake of his head.

  We thanked Rosemont and left. I clutched my reticule to my chest as we hurried past the busts of dead men, down the wide stairs to the vast entrance and out into the sunshine. Being a Monday, the museum was quiet, but even so, I bumped into a gentleman striding up the stairs as we headed down them.

  He apologized and I smiled, hardly aware that I did so. Matt's hand on my lower back reminded me to keep walking. He steered me along the path at a steady pace and hailed our carriage.