by C. J. Archer
"I left the door open for you!" Duke snapped. "Did you take a key? No, you did not," he answered for her. "If you hadn't gone out, Willie, this wouldn't have happened."
"If I hadn't shot at him, you would all be dead in your beds! I scared him off, good and proper."
"You almost committed murder on English soil," Mr. Glass growled.
"What was I supposed to do? Wait for him to shoot me first?"
"Was he armed?" Cyclops asked.
"How should I know?" Willie said with a pout in her voice. "It was dark."
Nobody had a response to that, and I deemed it a good time to make my presence known. "Is anyone hurt?" I asked, stepping into the kitchen. A hissing gas lamp on the table illuminated their faces and the gun in Willie's hand. It also illuminated Mr. Glass's chest. I kept my gaze averted with some difficulty.
"We're all unharmed," he said.
"How long have you been standing there?" Willie asked.
"Long enough to hear there was an intruder," I said. "What did he want?"
I counted three whole seconds before anyone responded. "Money, perhaps," Mr. Glass said. "Silver."
"I didn't stop to chat with him." Willie thrust the gun into the waistband of her trousers. The flap of her jacket hid it from view. Did she go out with the gun every night? Did she wear it during the day around the house?
I swallowed heavily. "Did you hit him?"
"Would have, if it weren't so dark."
"And he wasn't so fast," Duke sneered. "Or it wasn't a Thursday in London and you hadn't eaten beef for dinner. You missed, One Shot Willie. You've lost your touch."
"Shut your mouth," Willie snapped. "You're lucky I came home when I did."
I shivered, suddenly aware that I was standing in the kitchen in nothing more than a nightgown. "Surely not. Burglary is one thing, but murder is entirely another. He wouldn't have harmed any of us."
The heavy silence blanketed us until Cyclops lifted it with a hearty, "I'm going back to bed." Like Mr. Glass, he wore no shirt. It wasn't until he walked off that I saw the scars crossing his back. There was at least a dozen, all old. "Goodnight, Miss Steele. Hope you can sleep after this ruckus."
"Goodnight, Cyclops."
"We should all return to bed," Mr. Glass said, dragging his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. "Duke, make sure all the doors are secure now."
Duke didn't respond. He was too busy staring at my chest. It would seem I wasn't the only one who'd become aware that I wore only a nightgown. Thank goodness the lamp didn't cast enough light to reach my hot face or show the outline of my figure through the thin cotton. At least, I hoped not.
Willie smacked Duke's arm. He cleared his throat. "Right. Doors and locks. Doing it now."
He hurried off, taking the lamp with him, leaving my candle as our only light.
"Goodnight, Willie," Mr. Glass said.
"I'm not leaving you here alone with her," Willie said, folding her arms.
"Miss Steele is perfectly safe with me."
"It's not her I'm worried about."
He gave her a little shove and a stern, "Goodnight, Willie."
She grunted and stormed off.
"I ought to return to bed too," I said, edging away. "I'll look in on your aunt as I pass."
"Take her a cup of chocolate." He plucked a copper pot off its hook and disappeared into the pantry. He reappeared moments later with the pot half full of milk and a jar of honey in hand. He set them down and fetched a bag of sugar, chocolate and implements.
"You know how to make it?" I asked.
He laughed. It was so odd hearing the sound after such a trying day and evening. "Of course. I'll make you some."
I settled on the stool by the table and tried not to watch him as he stoked the fire in the stove to life, but I gave up. It was impossible. He was right there in front of me. No woman could look away when she was presented with such a fine masculine specimen. I'd never seen so many muscles before. Never seen a half naked man before. It was quite an, er, education. He was completely unconcerned about the damage his lack of attire could do to my virtue. Perhaps Americans weren't as troubled by propriety as we British. If that were the case, there was no need to feel guilty for staring.
"I want to apologize for my cousin's behavior," he said dripping a dollop of honey into the milk. "Again."
"She's very loyal to you."
He spooned in some sugar and stirred the contents. "Willie's got a good heart. It's difficult to find beneath all those prickles, but it's there. We've been through a lot together, and she worries about me as much as I worry about her."
"Why does she need to worry about you? You seem quite capable of taking care of yourself." All those muscles explained how he'd fought off those three brutes. Clearly he knew how to use them effectively. "Aside from your occasional bouts of illness, that is."
His stirring slowed, his attention focused on the task. When the milk began to simmer, he shaved off flakes of chocolate into the pot with a knife and whisked it into a froth.
I fetched cups and a chocolate pot from a shelf. He poured the chocolate into two cups and the pot. The pot and a spare cup he set aside, and handed one of the full cups to me. He indicated I should sit opposite on the stool. I did and looked up. His cheeks flushed and his gaze plunged to his cup.
I crossed my arms over my chest, hoping I didn't push up my bust more. "I know why you asked me to remain."
"I very much doubt that you do, Miss Steele." He swallowed loudly and rubbed a hand over his face. I suspected he was tired, but at least he didn't look exhausted to the point of illness.
"Then why?"
He set his cup down on the table and placed his palms flat on either side of it. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I asked you to stay back because I need to talk to you." Finally, he would explain about his mysterious illness and the watch! "I think it's best if you leave tomorrow."
"Pardon?"
"I'm severing our arrangement."
No. He wouldn't. Surely he knew how much I needed employment, and somewhere to live for a few days. Surely he saw that I had nothing and nowhere to go. "But…you can't! You've paid me in advance."
"Keep the money. But you can't stay here. It's too dangerous."
My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. "Because of one intruder?"
He continued to avoid looking at me.
"It wasn't merely a burglar, was it?" I prompted.
"You can go back to the Masons," he said quickly. "Or secure new lodgings tomorrow. You'll find other employment soon enough too, I'm certain of it. You're a remarkable woman and—"
I stood abruptly. The stool's feet scraped on the flagstone floor. He finally met my gaze, but I found I could no longer meet his. It was all I could do to hold myself together and not burst into tears at the hopelessness of it all, at the heavy weight once again settling on my shoulders, trying to push me down into the floor.
He stood too. "Say something, Miss Steele. You can shout if you like. In fact, I wish you would."
"What of your aunt?"
He blinked. "You have no home to go to, yet you're worried about Aunt Letitia?"
"I am employable, Mr. Glass. I haven't had much luck yet, but it will turn soon. There must be a shopkeeper in London in need of an assistant. But your aunt is vulnerable. I doubt she can look after herself properly. I wouldn't want her to return to her brother's house when you leave."
"She won't."
"Does she have other relatives? Friends?"
"None that I know of." He pressed his knuckles on the table and lowered his head between his shoulders. I waited, but I wasn't really sure what for. I knew I ought to take Miss Glass her chocolate, but something kept me rooted to the spot. "Damn it!" he finally growled. "You can't stay here, Miss Steele. Don't you understand? It's enough that I have the welfare of Cyclops, Willie and Duke on my hands. They can at least defend themselves."
"Tell me about the intruder."
"I
t's better for you if you don't know too much."
"You're deciding what's best for me now?"
"I'm deciding what's safest for you, yes."
"I do wish you wouldn't treat me like a child or a simpleton. I'm neither."
"I'm very aware of that." His dark lashes lifted, casting shadows over his eyes as he watched me for a long time.
I bore it with what I hoped was defiance, while everything inside me wanted to shrivel up. I was about to be cast out on my own—again—without employment or accommodation. Living with outlaws suddenly seemed the lesser of two evils. I wanted to stay, very much. "Please don't do this," I said simply.
"Damn," he said on a sigh. "You're very persuasive."
I was?
"Do you still sleep with that knife?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Continue to do so. You can stay until Tuesday. My aunt too. I'll consider what to do with her in the meantime." He picked up our empty cups and stalked into the scullery. "Goodnight, Miss Steele."
"Goodnight, Mr. Glass." I left the kitchen with the chocolate pot and cup. My heart was still hammering by the time I reached Miss Glass's room.
Mr. Glass, Duke, Willie and Cyclops went out after breakfast, and it had nothing to do with finding Mr. Mirth, so I was informed. They wouldn't tell me where they were going, but I suspected it concerned the intruder Willie had shot at.
I spent the morning getting to know Miss Glass better as two charwomen worked in the other rooms. Indeed, I found her eager to discuss her family, and it took little prompting from me to discover her father had been just as horrid as her older brother. The free-spirited and kind-hearted Harry, the youngest of three siblings, had left the country as soon as he reached his majority.
"He asked me to go with him," she said with a sad smile. "He pleaded with me, in fact. Mama had passed by that time, and Harry was everything to me. I gave it some serious thought, but decided to remain here. Having his spinster sister trail along would have stifled him. He needed to be free more than he needed to breathe. Father and Richard had been so cruel, always telling him he was worthless. As the younger brother, he inherited nothing and had to find his own way in the world. Father wanted him to become a lawyer, but working in an office would have slowly killed Harry's spirit. So he escaped and never came back."
"Was your father angry?"
"Terribly. He flew into a rage after he discovered Harry had left. I was the only one he told, you see, and I kept the secret until after his ship departed."
"Where did Harry go?"
"Everywhere. He traveled to exotic lands—Egypt, Turkey, Russia, all over the Orient, Canada and America. He had a small annuity from our mother that funded his travels. She left him this house too, but he never let it out. He may have worked, but his letters never mentioned such things."
Perhaps because he knew his sister thought “such things” vulgar. "He met his wife in America?"
"Charlotte." She folded her hands over her lap where one of Harry's letters lay open. They'd been delivered to the house, along with her belongings, the previous evening. "He adored her. I could tell from his writing that he thought the world of her. But he never wrote about her family and friends. It seems Richard had one of those Pinkerton detectives find out more, but he didn't confide what he'd learned to me. All I knew was that he considered her beneath us."
I didn't remind her that Lord Rycroft accused Charlotte's family of being criminals or mention that my own investigation confirmed it. Nor did I tell her that both Harry and Matthew had probably joined in with the Johnsons’ criminal ways. How else could Harry and Charlotte have funded their travels? How else could they have afforded a good education for Matthew? For he was certainly a well-bred, intelligent man.
"Matthew was born nine months after they married." She picked up the letter in her lap and smiled as she scanned the page. "This one was sent from Zurich." She pointed to another, folded on the table. "That one from Venice. They went everywhere. Matthew was a well-traveled little boy."
"Until he returned to America when he was fifteen."
Her face darkened. Her lashes lowered. "I wish I'd seen Harry one last time before he died. I wish I'd known Charlotte, and met Matthew when he was a boy. He's a fine man, isn't he, Miss Steele? A handsome, strong man."
"He's certainly that."
"Kind too. So like his father." She sighed and closed her eyes. I thought she'd fallen asleep, but she opened them again with a start. "Ring for tea, please, Beatrice."
"I'm India," I said gently. "Not Beatrice."
"Yes, of course you are. Beatrice has a face like a sour hound, but you're so pretty, Miss Steele."
"Please, call me India. I'll fetch some tea."
"Matthew ought to engage servants," she said, unfolding another letter.
"He says he's not staying long, so servants aren't required. He uses charwomen. They're here now."
"I wish you would stop saying he's leaving when he's not."
I pressed my lips together. Disagreeing would only upset her, and it was her nephew's place to disappoint her in this matter, not mine.
"That's one thing I will miss about Richard's home," she said, spreading the letter on her lap.
"What is?"
"My maid. I must offer her a position here."
I left to make tea. Maids were not my area of expertise.
The mail slot in the front door squeaked and a letter dropped through by the postman. It bore an American stamp, but there was no return address on the back. I deposited it on the hall table, but its presence bothered me for the rest of the morning. I handed it to Mr. Glass upon his return in the late afternoon.
I expected him to look tired and pained, since he hadn't come home for luncheon, but he seemed to be in sturdy health. He must have taken the glowing watch with him this time, as he had done that first day I'd met him at my—Eddie's—shop. Perhaps he'd been worried that I would see it on his person and left it at home when we searched for Chronos together. I was glad to see him looking healthy. Illness didn't suit him at all.
"This arrived for you," I said. "Did you have any luck?"
"With what, Miss Steele?" he asked, checking the envelope.
"With finding the intruder."
He glanced up. "What makes you think we were looking for him?"
I arched my brows.
He grunted. "All is well. Please don't alarm yourself. I won't see any harm come to you or my aunt while you're under my protection."
It was quite a noble little speech, and it rendered me senseless for a moment. It had been some time since Father had been capable of protecting me, and for the last few years, I was the one taking care of him. I wasn't sure how to react to Mr. Glass's reassurance.
"Is my aunt well?" he asked.
"She is." I cleared my throat. "You'll also find there is a new addition to the household."
"Who?"
"Her ladies’ maid. Miss Glass reinstated her this afternoon. She assures me her wages will be paid from her own funds."
"Money isn't a problem," he said absently, tearing open the envelope. His face hardened as he read, then re-read, the letter. "Excuse me." He left before I could ask him about our search for Mirth.
Miss Glass had retired for an afternoon nap and I found myself at a loose end. I'd already fixed the dining room clock, so decided to inspect the others in the house. The long case clock was in good working order, so I simply dusted out the housing and moved on to the other timepieces I'd spotted in other rooms. The brass Rococo in the music room simply required winding, and the lovely four glass clock in the drawing room was in perfect working order. I pulled out its mechanisms anyway to clean them, simply for something to do and to admire such fine workmanship. Tears sprang to my eyes as I set all the pieces back into place again. I might never work with clocks and watches again, never get to admire the fine craftsmanship that went into them, or the precise cohesion of the many parts to make something both beautiful and functional. I allowed my mi
nd to wander as I worked and simply feel instead.
I don't know how long I spent on that clock, but I was woken from my trance-like state by the loud whispers of Willie and Duke coming from beyond the door.
"Why can't you do as you're told for once?" Duke hissed.
"You should know me better by now." Willie sounded huffy, but not angry. "I do as I please, and what I want to do is go out tonight."
"Stay home."
"No."
"Willie…" Duke growled. "It's dangerous. He's out there."
"He's got no argument with me, and you can stop giving me orders. You ain't nothing to me." She stormed into the drawing room, only to stop short when she saw me. "How much of that did you hear?"
I glanced past her, but Duke hadn't followed. "Most of it. But don't worry. I don't care about your squabbles with Duke, or anyone else for that matter."
She came to stand beside me and inspected the clock, although I suspected she wasn't really taking much notice. "I don't like being dictated to by him. Or by any man."
"Do you mean to say we actually agree on something?"
She smirked. "I know why I think like that, but why do you? I thought you liked your pa."
"I did. My former fiancé, however, is another matter. If I learned one thing from my time with Eddie, it's that I didn't like the person I became when I was with him."
She sat down and rested her elbows on her knees. "Go on."
"I know now that I wasn't myself when I was engaged to Eddie. I was trying to be an ideal version of womanhood to make him like me. I haven't had all that much luck with men, you see, and Eddie made me feel special. I didn't want to lose him because I voiced an opinion he didn't agree with." I didn't know why I wanted Willie to understand something so personal about myself, something I had only just begun to realize. Perhaps because we were both women around the same age, or perhaps because I knew she would applaud me rather than condemn me. I may be considered forthright but she was ten times more so. Besides, simply saying the words out loud was cathartic.
"You stopped being yourself, you mean," she said quietly.
I nodded. "I thought it would help keep Eddie. I was wrong. Not only did I lose him anyway, I almost lost myself too. That was much worse."