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

by C. J. Archer

  Matt and I glanced at one another. "Is that his crime?" Matt asked.

  "Good lord, no. It may be odd, but it's not illegal, more's the pity. I was just telling you a little about him so you know what sort of man you'll be dealing with. One must understand thy enemy to beat him."

  "He's not my enemy, and I don't plan on beating him at anything."

  "But we appreciate the extra information," I added with an encouraging smile.

  Matt tapped his fingers on his knee. "Yes, we do. Go on, Aunt."

  "Lord Coyle is a collector, and it's rumored that some of the objects in his collection are stolen," she said.

  "Stolen!" I gasped. "From whom?"

  "From the original owners, I suppose. He has a vast collection, so I heard, but he keeps it hidden."

  "Then what's the point of collecting things if no one sees them?"

  "Apparently he allows certain important people to see them."

  "What sort of things does he collect?" Matt asked.

  "I'm not sure. Some say artwork, others think rare books, and yet others say he collects anything that captures his interest."

  Magical objects, perhaps.

  Matt sat back in the armchair and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. It was a pose he struck when he was lost in thought; he wasn’t aware of it at all. "Thank you, Aunt. But are you sure he steals them and doesn't buy them?"

  She clasped her hands in her lap and lifted her chin. "I can't be absolutely certain, no. As I said, it's gossip, and gossip cannot be trusted fully. Even so, I'm glad I warned you." She indicated I should slice the sponge cake. "Now you can avoid Lord Coyle."

  Matt shook his head. "I still want to speak with him. How far is it to Oxfordshire?"

  "Quite a considerable way. Why not try his London residence first to see if he's in town?"

  "He has a London residence?"

  "My dear boy, all the best families do."

  I passed Matt a slice of cake. "If he's got business in the city now, he might find it easier to be here for it."

  He nodded slowly as he accepted the plate. "He might indeed. Aunt, do you know his London address?"

  She bristled. "Of course not."

  "Would Richard or Beatrice?"

  "I doubt it. Why not try your lawyer? If he doesn't already know it, he can find it for you. Write to him today and you'll have an answer by tomorrow."

  Matt smiled. "An excellent idea."

  Miss Glass set down her plate, the cake hardly touched. She ate like a bird, and was as frail as one, too. I must urge her to eat more. Perhaps Polly could have Mrs. Potter prepare some of Miss Glass's favorite dishes.

  "I'm glad you're home," she said to Matt. "We have callers this afternoon. Mrs Mortimer and her daughter."

  Matt's chewing slowed. "I have to go out again."

  I narrowed my gaze at him. That was unkind.

  "Are you busy tonight?" his aunt asked, unfazed.

  "Do we have guests for dinner?"

  "No."

  "We'll be here," he said. "It'll be nice to spend some time with you. I feel as though I've neglected you, of late."

  "You have, but tonight will make up for it. We're going to the opera."

  I pressed my lips together but couldn't suppress my smile. Matt was rarely at a loss for words, but his mouth opened and shut and nothing came out.

  "Won't that be marvelous," I said.

  "I don't like opera," he muttered.

  His aunt waved her hand. "One doesn't go to the opera to watch the performance. One goes to the opera to be seen, and to meet friends. I've made some inquiries and some interesting people are going tonight. I'll introduce you."

  "I'd wager they have eligible daughters," he said.

  "Of course. It wouldn't be worth going if there weren't a few girls for you to meet. It'll be a great lark, and you'll enjoy yourself if you allow it. India, you'll come too, as my companion."

  "That would be lovely," I said. "Thank you, Miss Glass. I've never been to the opera."

  "If you don't have to go out with Matthew this afternoon, you ought to stay and meet my guests."

  "Oh," I said. "Er, thank you, but I'm sure Matt needs me." I wasn't sure what he planned to do, or where he wanted to go, but even driving around the city would be better than making polite conversation with strangers and listening to Miss Glass list his attributes.

  "Do reconsider, India. They're somewhat beneath we Glasses, but they're a nice family and I would enjoy your company."

  "Beneath us?" Matt set his plate on the table with a frown, turned to his aunt, and said, "You never intended me to meet the Mortimers, did you?"

  She reached for her plate and dug her fork into the cake. "I do love Mrs. Potter's sponge."

  A small snort of laughter escaped my nose. Matt turned a withering glare onto me. "Fortunately for India, I don't need her assistance this afternoon, so she'll be available to meet your guests." He gave me a triumphant smile.

  Cruel man.

  Mrs. Mortimer and her daughter were indeed lovely people, and I was glad I stayed. They were educated, interesting, and didn't care for gossip. Nor did they pander to Miss Glass, their social superior. In fact, she seemed to enjoy their company just as much as I did, if her unselfconscious laughter was anything to go by.

  I saw them off from the top of the front steps, when it was time for them to go, and watched them walk up the street. Admittedly, I was also looking for Matt's carriage. There was no sign of it, and I was about to return inside when I caught sight of a man leaning against the iron fence four houses away. His head was bowed, so I couldn't see his face, but the distinctive tall, slender frame gave away his identity.

  Sheriff Payne.

  I had a mind to march up to him and order him to leave, but held myself in check. It would achieve nothing. Besides, it would only make him realize that he'd rattled me. I would, however, warn Matt as soon as he arrived home.

  "Let me know when Mr. Glass returns," I said to Bristow. "Before he alights from his carriage, if possible."

  "Of course, madam."

  I couldn't settle, however. I looked out the window every few minutes, only to see Payne still there. He glanced at every passing carriage, as did I, but none of them delivered Matt home.

  It grew late. The sunshine dimmed as dusk moved in and the lamplighter lifted his pole to the first lamp at the end of the street. Matt had only gone to the Goldsmiths' Guild hall to ask about McArdle, so why hadn't he returned yet? He would need to rest and use his watch. He had it with him, but still, he usually waited until he was home to use it.

  Finally, the rumble of wheels stopped outside the house. Bristow entered the sitting room where I sat to announce Matt's return, but I swept passed him and opened the front door before he could speak. The carriage door opened before I reached it. Willie emerged, followed by Duke. Matt must have gone to Worthey's factory and picked them up. They greeted me and I responded breathily, relieved beyond measure that Payne had kept his distance.

  Behind them, the inside of the cabin glowed softly purple. Matt sat with his eyes closed, the watch clasped in his fist, his veins alight. It was an ethereally beautiful sight in the poor light and quite took my breath away.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. Payne!

  "Matt!" I cried. "Stop!"

  His eyes opened and he dropped the watch. It clattered to the floor and the light went out. "What is it?"

  "Payne's here." I glanced up the street. The figure turned and ran off.

  "Did he see me with the watch?"

  From the angle he'd been standing at? "It's difficult to tell."

  "We drove right past him with the curtains open," Matt said, picking up the watch. "He saw."

  Chapter 13

  There wasn't a single thing we could do about Payne. It was likely he'd seen the purple glow in the carriage, and perhaps even on Matt's skin, but unlikely that he knew what it meant. Hopefully he'd shrug it off as a trick of the fading light.<
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  "Are you all right?" I asked him as he climbed out of the carriage.

  "Fine," he growled. "I'm always fine, India, no matter how many times you ask."

  I clasped my hands in front of me and twisted my fingers together. "It's just that you were gone so long…"

  He bowed his head and his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry." He touched my hands until I unclasped them, then he took my fingers in his. Neither of us wore gloves and the intimacy of skin touching skin set my pulse racing. "I shouldn't have snapped. Forgive me?"

  How could I not when he blinked his long, thick lashes at me and gave me that tentative smile, as if he worried that I wouldn't forgive him? "There's nothing to forgive. Having everybody continually ask after your health must be trying. I'll do my best to refrain, in future."

  "I don't mind you worrying about me sometimes." The smile grew more confident, but no less crooked. Then, as if he remembered where we were and what had just happened, he let me go and glanced up the street. "Did Payne bother you?"

  "No. He's been standing out here for some time. I thought he would accost you, and I wanted to warn you."

  "Seems he had another plan in mind."

  "Yes, but what? Why just stand there and wait for you yet not approach?"

  "Learning my movements, perhaps." He indicated I should climb the steps before him.

  I lifted my skirts an inch to clear them from my shoes. "Did you learn anything at the Goldsmiths' Guild?"

  "The footman told me where to find the guild master's shop, so I visited him there. From him I learned that McArdle is no longer a member. He stopped paying his dues when he closed his shop a few years ago and disappeared overseas. The guild master said he'd heard McArdle was obsessed with hunting for ancient treasures."

  "That fits with what we know of him."

  "The master didn't know McArdle had returned to London and looked a little worried when I mentioned it. When I asked what the matter was, he shrugged off my question and told me that McArdle is a madman, not to be believed."

  I paused at the top step and waited for Matt to join me. "Do you think he was referring to McArdle's claims of magic?" I whispered, since Bristow hovering nearby.

  "Perhaps."

  "Did you ask him directly about magic?"

  "No!"

  "Why are you so horrified? His reaction could have been quite telling."

  "I'm horrified at you for suggesting we attract attention to ourselves—to you—by mentioning magic to complete strangers. A guild master, no less." He took my arm and steered me inside, where Bristow's presence put an end to talk of magic.

  "These came for you this afternoon, sir." The butler handed Matt two thin letters.

  "Thank you, Bristow. How long until dinner?"

  "About thirty minutes, sir. It's early tonight, and informal, due to the opera."

  I glanced at the ebony and brass clock on the hall table. "Mrs. Bristow said Mrs. Potter will have dinner ready at six-thirty, which is only twenty-four minutes away." Upon Matt's smirk, I added, "Or thereabouts."

  "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my study until then," he said. "India, will you join me after I speak with my aunt?" He waved the letters. "We have work to do."

  He greeted his aunt in the drawing room and dutifully listened to her chatter about her afternoon with the Mortimers. "Were they really that nice?" he asked me as we entered his study nine minutes later.

  "They were. I enjoyed their company."

  "Good." He indicated I should sit and handed me a notepad and pencil. "I'm glad living here isn't all dull work."

  "There's nothing dull about living here. Quite the contrary. Do you want me to open the letters? Is that what an assistant does?"

  "I don't know. I've never had one before." He passed me one of the letters. "That's from Munro."

  "And the other?"

  He flipped the letter over. It was blank. "I don't know." He opened it while I opened the one from Munro and read.

  "He wants us to work faster," I said, without looking up. "He says that while he understands investigations can be slow, Daniel's family do not. Daniel's grandfather, Mr. Gibbons, is demanding answers." I folded up the paper. "What does that one say?"

  Matt had gone quite pale. I was about to ask him if he felt all right, but bit my tongue. When he didn't speak, I went to stand behind him and read over his shoulder.

  I have the watchmaker you seek. Come to Lemon Court in Bethnal Green with one thousand pounds at six in the morning.

  I gasped. "Matt…"

  "I know." He stroked his lower lip in thought.

  My knees felt weak and I had to sit down again. I pressed a hand to my rapidly beating heart. "This is…"

  "I know."

  "Marvelous!"

  He glanced up sharply. "You believe it's sincere?"

  My spine weakened. I felt as if my entire body had caved in. "You don't?"

  "It's a trap."

  "Set up by Payne?"

  "Perhaps. A court is a dead-end street, isn't it?"

  "Usually."

  "And Bethnal Green is a dangerous place?"

  I wrinkled my nose. "Bethnal Green has a terrible reputation. The Ripper crimes occurred on its doorstep two years ago. According to the newspapers, it's going to be razed and rebuilt, but I doubt anything could erase the memories of the violence committed there. If you go, you must ask Munro for a police escort."

  "That wouldn't be wise. The blackmailer won't keep his side of the bargain if he sees any sign of the police. The point is moot, however," he added. "I won't be going."

  "Oh. Matt, if it's money you need, take the four hundred pounds I won for capturing the Dark Rider."

  He smiled without humor. "Thank you, but it's not money that's keeping me from going. It's a trap, India. It would be madness to go."

  "But what if it's not a trap?"

  "It is."

  "You don't know that."

  The door opened and Willie and Duke entered. "What are you two arguing about?" Duke asked.

  "We're not arguing, we're having a discussion," Matt said.

  "About what?" Willie asked.

  "Nothing."

  "This." I plucked the letter out of Matt's hands and passed it to her. He scowled at me. I crossed my arms and scowled back. I wanted another opinion.

  Duke read the note over Willie's shoulder. As the nearest person to her, he received the full force of her hug and almost deafened by her whoop.

  "God be praised!" she cried. "It's a miracle."

  "Sure is," Duke said, hugging her back, one hand buried in her hair.

  Matt snatched the letter off her, tore it up and let the pieces scatter on his desk. "Enough! All of you. I smell a trap."

  Willie pushed Duke away with a violent shove. He stumbled back into the armchair but didn't protest. He merely rejoined us as if it were an everyday occurrence.

  "Are you telling us you're not going?" Willie asked. "Are you thick headed? Have you got wool between your ears?"

  "Willie," Duke chided. "Maybe Matt's right. Maybe it is a trap."

  "So? Go, but be prepared for an ambush."

  "I agree," I said.

  Matt drummed his fingers on the desk and pressed his lips together. "If the writer of this letter genuinely knew where Chronos was, he would come to me. Why withhold his identity? He's done nothing wrong. The only reason to meet me in a dead-end slum street is to attack me. If you all stopped to think about it, you'd see that I'm right."

  Duke sat on the edge of the desk, head bowed. "It probably is a trap."

  Matt did have a point. Somewhat reluctantly, I agreed.

  "Willie?" Matt asked his cousin.

  She lifted one shoulder. "Seems I'm outnumbered," she muttered.

  The dinner gong sounded. Before I left the study, I glanced at the torn pieces of paper on the desk. Matt stared at them too. No matter what he said, he must feel at least a little compelled to go to Lemon Court to see who'd sent the letter. I certainly did.

&nbs
p; The opera at Covent Garden wasn't what I expected. For one thing, I appeared to be the only one concentrating on the stage. Most of the audience whispered to one another behind fans—although not all were as discreet—or surveyed the other members of the audience as if deciding what to eat at a banquet. It was quite disconcerting, since most gazes eventually settled on us.

  No less than four parties visited us in our third tier box. All visitors greeted Lady Rycroft, her daughters, and Miss Glass effusively, then turned their full attention to Matt as he was introduced. Either he or Miss Glass introduced me, too, but I was only given cursory nods before being ignored. Miss Glass's brother, the Baron of Rycroft, had rented the box for the season. Securing its use for one evening meant enduring the company of his wife and three daughters, but not Rycroft himself. Matt was the only man, surrounded by females. Even the visitors were all women.

  Watching him hold court, laughing and chatting easily, it was obvious why they all clamored to throw invitations at him. By the end of the evening, he had a pocket stuffed with cards smelling of rose, lavender, and a dozen other scents that mingled together and made me sneeze whenever I got too close.

  "He's quite charming," Hope Glass whispered in my ear as she watched Matt smiling at something the girl next to him said. "And extraordinarily handsome."

  I turned away. "He is."

  "We ought to be put out that he's ignoring us." She sighed theatrically. "But it is so hard to be cross with him. Don't you think?"

  "I'm often cross with him. This is not one of those times, however." I tried to concentrate on the soprano on stage as she hit a particularly high note, but not even that could distract me from either Hope or Matt.

  "You're very fortunate." The cool smoothness of her voice set me on edge. Everything about Hope Glass set me on edge, from her perfectly arranged curls to her pouting pink lips and shrewd eyes.

  "Why?" I expected her to say that I was fortunate to gaze upon Matt's handsomeness every day, but her answer surprised me.

  "To be taken in by Aunt Letitia and have her buy you such lovely dresses." She plucked at my ivory and sage silk gown. "She has remarkable taste for someone her age."