by C. J. Archer
Aunt Letitia smiled into her teacup.
To my surprise, Charity giggled.
Her mother glared at her, but it had no effect. Charity suddenly rose and tugged on the bellpull. “Fetch me a glass of port,” she ordered the butler when he entered.
He glanced at Lady Rycroft who gave a slight shake of her head. The butler bowed and left. He returned a few minutes later with a port glass on a silver tray which he offered to Charity.
She took the glass and sipped. Whatever was in that glass probably wasn’t port, but she seemed unaware that her mother and the butler had conspired to dupe her.
Thankfully it wasn’t long before Matt and Lord Rycroft joined us as I wasn’t sure I could endure another conversation about shopping. Given the shortness of their time together in the dining room, their conversation had probably been as tortuous as ours.
Matt’s gaze fell on Charity who sat with drooping eyelids, the empty port glass tilting at an angle as she held it. Her father plucked it from her fingers, rousing her from her daze.
What had been in the drink?
“And how is Lord Farnsworth?” Lady Rycroft asked, as if we’d just been discussing him.
“Davide is well,” Aunt Letitia said carefully. “Why?”
“He seems like a thoroughly likeable character. Charity was quite taken with him at our party, weren’t you, dear? It’s a shame he had to leave early.”
“It was an exhausting evening for everyone.”
“We should do it again. Shall we say next Tuesday? Rycroft would like to meet him after Charity spoke so highly of him.”
Charity made a snuffling noise but I wasn’t sure if it was a snore or she disagreed with her mother.
“Next Tuesday,” Lord Rycroft reiterated. “I can count on you to pass on my regards to him, can’t I, Matthew?”
“I will certainly pass on your words, precisely as you spoke them.”
“No, I meant—”
“I think it’s time we left.”
“But it’s so early!” Lady Rycroft protested.
I indicated her daughter with her drowsy eyes and slack jaw. “Charity looks tired. It’s not fair to keep her up.”
“But I had hoped to speak to you alone, Matthew.” She looked to her husband. “Just in case Rycroft didn’t make everything clear.”
“It was clear.” Matt offered his arm to Aunt Letitia.
She took it and bade goodbye to her brother and sister-in-law, and patted Charity’s shoulder as she passed. Charity’s mouth fell open and she emitted a soft snore.
I thanked our host and hostess and followed them out. I managed to hold my tongue further until we were in the carriage and on our way. “So what did Lord Rycroft say when you were alone, Matt?”
It was Aunt Letitia who answered, not Matt. “Can you not guess? Davide was right. Tonight’s dinner was about him.”
“I’m to act as a go-between,” Matt said. “My uncle asked me to put his offer to Farnsworth,”
“You mean offer of marriage?” I laughed. “That’s ridiculous. Davide isn’t interested in Charity. He made that quite clear when he all but ran from the room on the night of the party.”
“That was before my uncle was involved.” Matt’s eyes were bright in the light of the lamp swinging in time to the gently rocking motion of the carriage. He was enjoying this. “He seems to think that turning this into a financial transaction will change Farnsworth’s opinion of Charity.”
“Depending on how generous the offer is, it would make a difference to the gentleman’s opinion of the lady in many cases,” Aunt Letitia said. “But Davide is not like most gentlemen, and Charity is the fruit that’s been out in the sun too long—a difficult sell.”
I looked at her in horror. “That’s a little harsh.”
“And yet true. My brother’s offer of a generous dowry might work for an impoverished gentleman, but Davide is not that. How much did Richard offer?”
“A generous amount in the form of money and jewels,” Matt said.
Aunt Letitia gasped. “He can’t offer the Rycroft jewels! They’re supposed to be passed down to the title holder. You are supposed to inherit them, Matthew.”
“I told him he can do what he wants with them. I don’t care if he gives them to a gentleman to encourage a marriage or gives them to Charity to ensure she has a comfortable life as a spinster.”
“I suppose you’re right. Better Charity has a comfortable living well into her old age than be a burden to you and India. So are you going to inform Davide?”
“Do you think I should? I can’t decide if it’s an insult to him or flattery.”
“Knowing him, he would think the latter,” I said.
“Then I’ll tell him.” He did not sound particularly thrilled with the notion. “Or perhaps it would be better coming from his closest friends.”
“We’ll do it,” Aunt Letitia said before I could respond in the negative. She clapped her hands. “It will be most amusing.”
“Unless he accepts the offer,” I muttered.
I sent a message to Lord Farnsworth the following morning inviting him to tea and he arrived at four instead of the stated three-thirty.
“I apologize for my tardiness, India,” he said with a bow. “But you must blame Willie. She insisted on taking me out to lunch.”
I glanced at the door but Willie did not follow him in.
“She remained at the club,” he said.
“She was allowed into your gentleman’s club?” Duke asked. “Ain’t they for men only?”
He pressed a finger to his lips. “I told the manager she was my good friend, just turned twenty, and eager to experience the delights of his first foray to a London gentleman’s club. I left her at the card table where she was fleecing Lords Ponsonby and Lockham. They were none the wiser.”
Matt groaned. “I’ll never show my face there again.”
“Nonsense. Nobody knows she’s related to you.”
“But they may never let you back in,” I said.
“Of course they will! They love me at White’s, and she is a friend of mine. Or, rather, he is my friend. Don’t worry, Glass, she resembled a man more than a woman when I’d finished with her.” He hitched up his trouser legs and took a seat, quite oblivious to our open-mouthed stares. “Do you have any of those little cakes? The ones that are as light as air.”
Aunt Letitia picked up the teapot and poured. “It’s only seed cake today.”
“That’ll do.”
I sliced the cake and handed him a piece on a plate. He regarded me with a curious smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.
“You have something exciting to tell me, don’t you?” He indicated my cheeks. “You are pink with the effort of keeping it in, India.”
“Do you recall that we were invited to dine with Lord and Lady Rycroft last night?”
“Ah, yes, now I know what you want with me today. You’re going to tell me that Rycroft has placed a generous dowry on his wildcat of a daughter’s head and wants me to take the bait.”
“You have it in one, Davide.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve navigated the shark-infested waters of the matrimonial market. Nor will it be the last.”
“So that’s a refusal?” Matt asked.
“It is. Please let Rycroft down gently. I imagine it will disappoint your uncle and aunt. I hope they will eventually recover from the disappointment of rejection, although it will probably take time.”
“He’ll find another candidate soon enough when his generous offer becomes known.”
“But none as fine as me.”
Duke raised his teacup in salute. “Hear, hear.”
Lord Farnsworth set his teacup down with a clatter and stared at Duke. He wagged his finger at him. “I say, what about you? You’re not married and not unpleasant to look at. Surely you need the dowry more than me, since you don’t have your own house.”
“Nothing less than a lord will do for them,” Duke pointed
out.
“But you’re a duke!”
Duke sighed and returned to his tea.
“We’ve explained this to you,” I said to Lord Farnsworth. “Duke is a name, not a title.”
“You did? S’pose I mustn’t have been listening properly. I’ve been told I have a dreadful attention span.”
“Is that so?” Matt muttered.
Lord Farnsworth studied Duke from head to toe then back again, as if seeing him for the first time. “I did think it odd that you live here and not at your ducal residence. Why did your parents give you such a lofty name?”
Duke shrugged. “They just liked it, I reckon.”
Lord Farnsworth clicked his tongue. “It ought to be illegal to name a child after a rank. It invokes confusion.”
“Quite right,” Aunt Letitia piped up. “Although Duke is far more of a gentleman than the Duke of Croxley. Horrid little man with a roaming eye that always falls on the young ladies.”
The rest of the afternoon was a pleasant affair that lasted another hour before Willie arrived home. She was dressed in a well-cut suit instead of her usual cowboy outfit and her hair had been carefully pinned under so that it looked short. With her masculine walk and a deepening of her voice, I could see how she’d pass for a young man.
She stood in the doorway to the drawing room with a beaming smile and regarded us with glassy eyes. “You got to take me back there again, Farnsworth. I won a fortune. Those toffs are the worst poker players I’ve ever encountered, and I’ve played India.”
I bristled. “I’m not terrible.”
“They didn’t realize you were a woman?” Duke asked.
“Nope. They were too drunk, which is another good reason to play with them.” She swayed a little and put her hand to the doorframe to steady herself. “The manager had an inkling, I reckon, but my generous tip ensured his silence. All in all, it’s been a good day.” She pushed off from the doorframe and entered the room, only to bump into Matt’s chair. She apologized and fell into a vacant armchair. “Jasper’ll laugh when I tell him.” Her mouth clamped shut the moment she realized what she’d said, and her eyes dulled. She tried to remove her jacket, but her arm got caught and she ended up flailing about, knocking her hand on the chair. “God damned stupid clothes!”
Duke helped her remove it and folded it over his arm. “You all right, Willie?”
“Course I am,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m always all right, Duke, you know that. So what’ve you all been talking about without me?”
“Marriage,” Lord Farnsworth said.
Willie’s eyes suddenly widened. “Huh?”
“Lord Rycroft has offered me first pick of Charity’s dowry if I take her off his hands.”
“She ain’t worth it.”
“You didn’t hear how much the dowry is,” Duke said.
“It don’t matter. He could offer me the moon and I wouldn’t take it.”
Duke opened his mouth to set her straight, but I caught his gaze and shook my head. I wanted her to ramble on about herself while she was under the influence of alcohol. Perhaps it was wicked, but it was the only way I’d get answers.
Willie closed her eyes again and yawned without covering her mouth. “It would take someone real special to get me to marry. Someone real special indeed.”
“Can you think of anyone who is that special?” I asked.
Her answer was a soft snore. Darn. I’d been so close.
Bristow entered with a letter addressed to me, sealed with a crown insignia pressed into red wax.
I glanced at Matt. “It’s from the home secretary, Henry Matthews.”
Matt came to my side and rested a hand on my shoulder. “What does he want?”
I read out the relevant part of the letter. “‘I request your presence in my office at ten o’clock.’”
“Why?” Aunt Letitia asked.
“He doesn’t say.”
“Will you go?” Duke asked.
Lord Farnsworth scoffed. “Of course she has to go. One doesn’t refuse an invitation from the home secretary. Indeed, it’s hardly an invitation at all. It’s a command.”
My gaze met Matt’s and he squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll come with you if you like,” he said.
“Is he invited?” Lord Farnsworth asked.
I shook my head. “But he will come, because I won’t attend without him.”
The following morning at ten we arrived at the grand Italianate building that housed the Home Office. It was more suited to be a palace than government offices, with its large entrance dominated by a wide, carpeted staircase, ornately painted ceiling and as many pieces of art as a gallery. Mr. Matthews’ office was also large but it was more like what I expected a senior government official to occupy. The only artwork amid the thick-legged mahogany furniture was a portrait of the queen looking like a stern grandmother. A large window overlooking Horse Guards Road below let in an abundance of light.
Two men greeted us. The one who made the introductions was Mr. Matthews, the home secretary, and the other was Mr. Le Grand, the man Sir Charles called the spy master. Despite both being middle aged with an air of authority about them, that’s where the similarities ended.
Mr. Matthews was small and wiry, with a slight stoop and sharp gaze, whereas Mr. Le Grand stood like an unsmiling guard presiding over a dull meeting. He was handsome but not like Matt. Matt’s good looks were obvious at first glance. Mr. Le Grand was more unassuming, and it took a moment before his features came together in a pleasing manner. He was tall but not domineering, slender but not thin, broad-shouldered but not angular. He looked as though he needed a good night’s rest. Perhaps he was used to working at night, when wicked characters, ne’er do wells, and spies came out to play, and ten o’clock in the morning was too early.
“I was not expecting you, Mr. Glass,” the home secretary began as we all sat.
“And yet I am here.”
“I wanted him here,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
The home secretary smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Of course not. I heard you were quite a force to be reckoned with on your own, however, and didn’t require an escort.”
“He’s not my escort. He’s my partner. We are a team.”
“Whittaker needs to improve his character assessments if he failed to tell you that,” Matt added. Although his tone was pleasant enough, it held a hint of steel.
Mr. Matthews shifted his weight, but Mr. Le Grand remained still, his eyelids at half-mast and his body relaxed. He sat near the window, not quite behind the desk but not in front of it with us, either. Perhaps he was there in an observational capacity only and had no intention of contributing to the meeting.
I wondered if he knew that Sir Charles had told us who he was.
Mr. Matthews turned to me, effectively ignoring Matt. “You’re probably wondering why you’ve been summoned here.”
“I have quite a good idea,” I said, “but I’d like to hear it from your lips.”
“You are a unique individual, Mrs. Glass. A rare gem, as it were. Is it true you weren’t aware of your magical ability until quite recently?”
“It is true. I’m a watch magician, but I assume you already knew that.”
“Oh, you are much more than a watch magician. You’ve been called spell master by some, and the greatest magician of our time, by others. You come from magical stock on both sides of your family, but your ability surpasses anything your parents or grandparents could do.” He paused, perhaps waiting for me to fill in the gaps.
I remained silent.
“You’ve been assisting Scotland Yard with several cases involving magic.” He glanced at a piece of paper on his desk. “Detective Inspector Brockwell is your liaison with the Yard.”
I nodded.
“May I thank you for your service to the crown on behalf of the nation, Mrs. Glass. Your assistance has proven to be invaluable in stopping crimes committed both against and by magicians. It�
�s my understanding the country is safer because of you.”
I narrowed my gaze. So much heady praise could only be leading in one direction. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust either of these men. They traded in secrets and sifted through lies, no doubt spreading some of their own when it suited them. If there was such a thing as an expert in lies, it would be these two men.
“I see you’re impatient for me to get to the point,” Mr. Matthews went on. “Very well.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands on his desk. “We would like you to come and work for us.”
I blinked hard. “You mean work for the government?”
“Yes.”
I glanced at Mr. Le Grand, but his blank expression gave nothing away. “In what capacity?”
“Advisory, mostly. Now that magic is in the public domain, it must be regulated. As you’re no doubt aware, there has been restlessness of late between magicians and normal people.”
“Magicians are normal,” I said tightly. “Those without magic are called artless.”
He separated his thumbs before pressing them together again. “We would like you to give advice to the policy makers.”
My heart tripped over itself. This was the opportunity I wanted; an opportunity to speak out against the guilds and their archaic system of issuing licenses to members only. It was an opportunity to change the way things had always been done, for the betterment of magicians all over the country, and to broker peace between artless and magician craftsmen.
“Would that be India’s only role?” Matt asked. “Giving advice about magic to help form policy?”
Mr. Matthews tapped his thumbs together in a fast rhythm. “It will be an important part of her role.”
Matt glanced at Mr. Le Grand. “Then why is he here?”
Mr. Matthews glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Le Grand. “He’s here as an observer.”
“There’s no need for the spy master to observe a meeting in which you recruit an advisor.” When Mr. Matthews didn’t respond, Matt continued. “Since you seem reluctant to elaborate on India’s role, I’ll tell you why I think you really want her—for using spells already created and creating new ones.”
Mr. Matthews sat back and settled his clasped hands over his stomach. His thumbs continued to tap away against each other.
