The Spy Master's Scheme (Glass and Steele Book 12)

by C. J. Archer

  “I didn’t say he wasn’t thinking about you. I’m sure he did from time to time.”

  Her gaze snapped to mine. “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s just a feeling.”

  She stared at her fingers, stroking the chair arm back and forth.

  “Willie, why don’t you speak to him?” I said gently. “He misses you, and you miss him.”

  “It ain’t that simple.”

  “Whatever happened between you the other night can be resolved.”

  “You don’t know that,” she snapped.

  “I could be more helpful if you’d tell me what you talked about,” I snapped back.

  She thrust out her chin. “You wouldn’t understand my point of view. You’d take his side.”

  “I might not.”

  “I’m quite sure I would,” Aunt Letitia piped up.

  Willie gave her a flinty glare.

  “Well?” I prompted.

  Willie seemed to be considering it when Bristow entered carrying a silver tray. “The mail arrived, Mrs. Glass.”

  “Thank you, Bristow.” There was only one letter addressed to me. It was from Lady Rycroft. I opened it and read. When I reached the end, I sighed. “It’s addressed to you too, Aunt. We’re invited to dine with them tonight.”

  Aunt Letitia frowned. “That’s odd. I wonder what she wants.”

  “Perhaps she doesn’t want anything, just a nice family dinner.”

  “After we thwarted her attempt to trap Davide with Charity? Hardly. She either wants revenge or a favor. If it’s up to my sister-in-law, it will be the former.”

  “According to this message, Lord Rycroft has returned to London, so perhaps it isn’t up to her. Perhaps the dinner is for his benefit and has nothing to do with that incident at the soiree.”

  “You’re optimism is charming, India.”

  I wasn’t sure whether Lord Farnsworth needed to know about the dinner, but Willie informed him anyway when he arrived mid-afternoon in time for tea in the drawing room. He was quite convinced he would be the main topic of conversation tonight.

  “I am a very eligible bachelor, India.” This declaration was accompanied by a flourish of his hand, as if it was an undisputed fact. “Your aunt won’t have given up that easily. She will not go down without a fight.”

  “It’s hardly a battle,” I said.

  “Clearly you’re not familiar with the marriage mart. Just wait until you have a son and see how the mothers swarm around him when he grows up.”

  Matt grunted into his teacup. “Any children we have will be allowed to choose their partner from among all levels of society.”

  Aunt Letitia set her teacup down with a loud clink of china. “Do be serious, Matthew. It was quaint with you and India, and everyone accepted your egalitarian behavior because you’re an American, but your son will be brought up as an English gentleman.”

  “And everyone knows there’s no such thing as an egalitarian English gentleman or lady,” Lord Farnsworth added.

  I gave my head a quick shake as Matt opened his mouth to protest. Thankfully, he shut it again. There was no point arguing over the future of a child that did not exist.

  Willie, however, never backed away from a fight. “With an attitude like that, nothing will change here.”

  Both Aunt Letitia and Lord Farnsworth eyed her with a mixture of horror and curiosity. “Who says anything ought to change?” he asked.

  Fortunately we were saved by Bristow entering and announcing two more visitors in the form of Fabian and Oscar. I invited them in with enthusiasm, welcoming the distraction from the topic at hand.

  It quickly became clear, however, that neither of them were in good spirits. No doubt Fabian wanted to ask us about his stolen carpet, and Oscar was still lamenting the ending of his relationship with Louisa.

  Thankfully the always jovial Lord Farnsworth came to the rescue. “How are book sales, Barratt?”

  “Excellent. My printer wants to send copies overseas to America, and I’m considering having it translated into French and Italian. The reading public can’t seem to get enough of it.” Oscar turned to me, “India, will you consider writing an introduction for the reprint?”

  I scoffed. “Who would care what I have to say? The artless don’t know who I am.”

  “They will after you write the introduction.”

  “It’s the sort of notoriety I’d like to avoid, but thank you for asking.” I glanced at Matt who’d been sitting silently since exchanging pleasantries upon Oscar and Fabian’s arrival. He merely lifted his teacup in salute to me and sipped.

  Oscar cleared his throat. “I came here to tell you I’m working at the Gazette again. They’ve taken me back. After Louisa cost me my job there, I wasn’t sure where I stood, but fortunately my editor championed me. He’s a good egg."

  Fabian frowned at him. “How do you mean, Louisa cost you the job?”

  “She saw that I was dismissed. She wanted me to spend more time at home to finish the book.”

  “Blimey!” Lord Farnsworth said. “That’s a little underhanded. But she was quite right in that you shouldn’t work. Not if you’re going to marry her. She is a lady, after all. It wouldn’t be proper. Don’t you agree, Letty?”

  “I never get involved in the romantic matters of others,” she said.

  Willie and Duke both snorted into their teacups.

  “We are no longer engaged,” Oscar told Lord Farnsworth matter-of-factly. “Louisa ended it.”

  “My dear fellow, that’s hard luck! Never mind, another filly will turn up.”

  “Louisa told me you ended the engagement,” Fabian said. “Not her.”

  Oscar gave him a flat smile. “She clearly thinks of you as a close friend to tell you that.”

  “Ah, I see. You are a gentleman indeed, Barratt. I do not blame you for breaking off the attachment. Louisa is…forceful. When it comes to magic, she is determined. And we are not that close,” he finished.

  “She idolizes you, Charbonneau. She talks about you quite a lot and when she does, her voice takes on a different timbre.”

  “She likes my magic, not me. There is a difference.”

  Oscar sighed. “You may be right on that score.”

  Lord Farnsworth frowned at Fabian. “You know, you and Louisa have similar opinions when it comes to magic. You both wish to set it free, as it were. You both want it to flourish and become accepted by the world. You both want the bloodlines of magic to continue.”

  “No, no. That is not true. Louisa and I are not the same. She is prepared to go to great lengths for magic to flourish, but I am not.” Fabian indicated me. “India and Matt have convinced me of the dangers if magic falls into the wrong hands. I do not think Louisa would give in as easily as I have done.”

  It was a pretty speech, but I wasn’t convinced Fabian had given up on his hopes and dreams for magic. I expected him to raise the topic of creating spells again in the future, although hopefully it would be some time away yet.

  “You’ve seen her recently?” Oscar asked somewhat shyly. “Is she well?”

  Fabian hesitated before answering carefully. “She is as she always is—determined. The first time she came to my house, I was about to leave. The second time, I was not at home. The third, I could not allow her to dine with me, despite the hour. It would not be proper.”

  “Quite right,” Aunt Letitia said. “It sounds to me like she’s attempting to trap you. We know all about young ladies like that, don’t we, Davide?”

  Lord Farnsworth agreed with a rousing, “Hear, hear. One’s bachelorhood is precious. We must protect it and not give it away cheaply. Not even to the prettiest, most eligible, most determined girl in the country. Not until we are ready for the life of a married man, that is.”

  “And we should not marry someone we don’t get along with,” Oscar added.

  Lord Farnsworth chuckled. “How quaint you are.”

  Oscar arched his brows but didn’t get a word in before Fabi
an spoke up again.

  “Glass, is there any word on my stolen carpet?”

  “Somebody stole your carpet?” Aunt Letitia asked. Oscar and Lord Farnsworth also turned their attention to Fabian, curious about the theft of a rug.

  It would seem the topic couldn’t be avoided anymore. Matt gave them a brief explanation of the events so far, leaving out the part where we’d flown on the carpet ourselves. I suspected that was more for Aunt Letitia’s benefit.

  “Pyke regained consciousness yesterday and informed us that he attempted to make the carpet fly while it carried him, but he fell off,” Matt finished.

  “Good lord,” Lord Farnsworth murmured. “What a brave fellow. A bit mad, but who isn’t these days, eh?”

  Fabian said something in French under his breath. “He is a fool. He knew he could not fly it on his own. He could have been killed.”

  “Then why did he attempt it?” Oscar asked.

  “He was given no choice,” Matt said. “His wife was threatened.

  “By Coyle?”

  Matt shook his head.

  “Then who?”

  Matt didn’t say. When Oscar appealed to me, I kept my mouth shut.

  “And where is my carpet now?” Fabian asked.

  “The police burned it,” Matt said.

  “Burned! But I did not authorize that. It is my carpet. The inspector cannot do this!”

  “It wasn’t Brockwell’s idea. It was mine.”

  The muscles in Fabian’s jaw bunched as he clenched his back teeth. He drew in deep breaths as he glared at Matt.

  “It was the right thing to do after what happened to Pyke,” Matt went on. “It attracted dangerous people; people prepared to use magicians to make the carpet fly again. You must see that it was a magnet for people like Coyle.”

  Fabian lowered his head. “You are right, of course.” He heaved a deep sigh. “And yet, it was a marvel to see it fly. Wonderous.”

  “Magical,” I added with a lopsided smile. “I know, Fabian, and I understand. But the dangers outweigh the beauty of it.”

  Fabian returned my smile with an unconvincing one of his own.

  Oscar reached for a biscuit from the plate and pointed it at Matt as he sat back. “You’re fighting a losing battle, you know. Flight will happen. Within a few years, I’d wager. Not the flight of carpets, of course, but there’s a German engineer who claims to be almost ready to launch a glider. And we already have hot air balloons.”

  “A balloon is slow and difficult to maneuver,” Matt said. “A glider is better but also limited in speed and the level of control the pilot can exert.”

  Fabian made a sound of derision in his throat. “Glass is right. Nothing the artless make will be as good as a magician’s creation.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  Oscar gave a small shrug. “I think this is one area where you will have to eat your words, Charbonneau. If I’m right, then whoever wanted Pyke to fly the carpet will merely need to wait a little longer for the artless inventors to catch up. Aviation will change the world in the way rail once did, mark my words.”

  I suspected he would be proved right, but that day was years away, and I doubted the government, or Coyle for that matter, were fond of waiting. His words offered me no real comfort.

  Our three visitors didn’t stay much longer and decided to leave all at once. Lord Farnsworth positioned himself beside Oscar and me as we walked out together, and kept his voice low and his gaze on Fabian up ahead. “Say, Barratt, would you mind terribly if I made a play for your former fiancée?”

  Oscar blinked at him. “You wish to court her?”

  “Yes, why not. She’s the right sort, good breeding and all that. She is a little intense, but that will balance me nicely. Some call me frivolous, but a serious wife will negate my excesses. So what say you? Would it trouble you?”

  Oscar looked taken aback and quite unable to answer as he considered the notion.

  I came to his rescue. “I thought you said you must protect your bachelorhood and not throw it away, Davide.”

  Lord Farnsworth winked at me. “Oh, that was just for Charbonneau’s benefit. I didn’t want him having second thoughts about Louisa when I’ve suddenly realized how suited we are. I rather think I’d lose to him. The French know how to seduce when they put their mind to it.”

  Oscar clapped Lord Farnsworth on the shoulder. “If you feel that way, then you’re welcome to court her. Although I should warn you that the danger from that quarter doesn’t come from him being French or handsome, it’s due to him being a magician. She’s intent on having magician children, you see.”

  “Ah, now I understand why she was with you.”

  Oscar took the barb with a good humored chuckle.

  Once they were gone, Matt and I walked back up the stairs arm in arm. “Did you really tell Brockwell to destroy the carpet?” I asked.

  “No. I would have asked you first before giving such an order. I simply told Charbonneau it was my decision because I didn’t want him getting angry with Brockwell. The carpet was burned, though. I received a message from Brockwell to that effect just before our guests arrived. He ordered its destruction last night. While he didn’t say why, I suspect he wanted to destroy it before it was removed from the evidence room without his knowledge.”

  “It’s the right thing to do, given the interest in it.”

  We rejoined Aunt Letitia, Duke and Willie in the drawing room. They’d decided to start a game of cards, although Willie declined to help make up the numbers. I worried that the conversation about Louisa had troubled her. While she claimed not to be interested in Lord Farnsworth in that way, it wouldn’t surprise me if she was jealous on some level. Perhaps not in a romantic way, but she might be afraid of losing a friend.

  I was forming the right words to ask her when she suddenly piped up. “How do you reckon I’d get the address of that German engineer Oscar mentioned?”

  Matt picked up the cards to shuffle them. “There must be an aviation society here in England that could put you in touch with their German counterpart who would then forward a letter to him. Why?”

  “I want to offer myself as a volunteer to fly his glider.”

  Chapter 13

  I thought my evening gown of emerald green velvet and cream satin was almost too extravagant for an intimate dinner party, but I looked plain next to Matt’s aunt in her gold skirt with red embroidered swirls and the contrasting red bodice with gold swirls.

  As we took our seats in the drawing room to await the gong, Aunt Letitia leaned toward me and muttered, “She looks like the drapes that used to hang in this room.”

  Charity wore her usual black lace as if she were in mourning. I expected Aunt Letitia to make another disparaging comment about her niece’s choice of clothes, but it never came. She eyed her closely, however, as if trying to gauge her thoughts on this first meeting after that near-disastrous soiree.

  Charity seemed unperturbed and even rather content. She hummed softly to herself as she swayed from side to side, until her mother barked at her to be quiet.

  Lady Rycroft did not mention the party. Nor did Lord Rycroft, standing by the fireplace. Matt stood on the other side, his elbow resting on the mantelpiece. He seemed unaware that his uncle was watching him from beneath lowered lashes.

  We survived both the pre-dinner conversation and the inane chat throughout each of the seven courses. Although the food was delicious, it became too much for my palate, with cream poured over almost every dish. Even the final course of meringue was covered in custard and cream.

  To say it was an awkward dinner was an understatement. Charity rarely talked while Lord Rycroft seemed disinterested in the entire event altogether, giving brief answers only when called upon. Still, he continued to look at Matt as if he were measuring him in some way.

  It was almost a relief to be out of his presence when the women departed for the drawing room, leaving the two men to talk over glasses of port. I felt Matt’s abse
nce keenly, however, when Lady Rycroft turned to me on the sofa. He could always be relied upon to rescue me in a social setting if need be. Tonight, I had to rely on Aunt Letitia, and I wasn’t sure if she would dampen any small fires or add more fuel to them.

  “India, dear, where did you have your credenza made?” Lady Rycroft asked.

  The question caught me off guard. It was not what I expected. “I haven’t changed the dining room furniture. What’s in there now was already there when I moved in.”

  “What about the curtains in the drawing room? I know you changed those.”

  “From Peter Robinson in Oxford Street.”

  Her eyebrows shot up to the edge of her red turban. “Really?” She opened the drawer of the occasional table and pulled out a pencil and notepad. “And what about the dinner set?”

  I sighed. Was this the entire reason for our invitation here tonight? So she could write down every shop I’d ever purchased from?

  “India can’t remember,” Aunt Letitia said before I could respond.

  Lady Rycroft’s lips pinched. “What about your calling cards?”

  “She can’t remember that either.” Aunt Letitia waved her tea cup in the air. “It was probably from that stationer in Oxford Street.” She winked at me.

  Lady Rycroft made a note. “And those earrings you’re wearing tonight, India? They’re new, aren’t they?”

  I fingered the gold and pearl earrings Matt had given me for Christmas.

  Before I could tell her, Aunt Letitia said, “Those are from a jeweler on Oxford Street.”

  Lady Rycroft paused, pressing the pencil so hard into the page, the end broke. “You seem to do an awful lot of shopping on Oxford Street, India.”

  “She likes it. It has everything a young lady of taste and distinction requires.”

  Lady Rycroft’s nostrils flared. “I was speaking to India.”

  “Aunt Letitia knows where I shop,” I said. “After all, I shop at the places she recommends.” I smiled. “She has very fine taste. Don’t you agree?”

  Lady Rycroft snapped the notepad closed and tossed it into the drawer along with the pencil. She slammed the drawer shut.