by C. J. Archer
"The gentleman in question isn't magical," I said. "The coronet was given to his ancestor many years ago. He doesn't know who made it. Indeed, the magic felt so faint that I suspect it was put into the gold centuries earlier."
"But what if you're wrong?" Mrs. Landers said matter-of-factly. "What if there are gold magicians still in existence?"
"There are not," Fabian told her.
"And if anyone would know, it would be Fabian," Louisa added.
Fabian gave her a small bow of thanks. She returned it with a shallow curtsy and a smile. Beside her, Oscar's lips flattened.
"We'll learn who it is sooner or later," Mr. Landers said. "So you might as well do as my wife asks and tell us. Everyone in this room is very discreet. Well, I can't account for Charbonneau and Barratt, of course, having only just met them, but people like us, people of high society, are extremely cautious with gossip. It's the lower orders that spread it."
"Is that so?" Matt asked with ominous calm. "Then how does that explain why much of my information is gathered through gentleman's clubs?" It wasn't quite true, although we had found out about Lord Farnsworth's mistress that way. But Matt was right; gossip was the great social leveler. Everyone exchanged it, and everyone was, at one point or other, the topic of it, no matter their standing within society.
Mr. Landers sniffed. "The servants tattle."
"That's unfair," his wife scolded. "Our Wentworth is very discreet. He wouldn't share any of my secrets. Not for a thousand pounds."
"Do you have many, Mrs. Landers?" Mrs. Delancey asked. "Secrets, that is."
Mrs. Landers laughed, as did Mrs. Delancey, but no one failed to notice that she didn't answer the question.
As if he heard his name, the butler—a youthful fellow compared to the other butlers I'd encountered—entered and introduced the dandy with him as Lord Farnsworth.
Farnsworth surveyed the room with a broad, somewhat foolish grin. "What have I missed?"
Mrs. Landers greeted her latest guest, kissing him on both cheeks in the French way. "Do come in and meet our honored guests. We have three magicians in attendance tonight. Can you believe it? Three!"
Lord Farnsworth took her hand and rested it on his arm. "Lead me to 'em, dear lady."
The butler caught Mrs. Landers' attention with a mere shift of his stance. He arched a brow ever so slightly. She gave a single nod, and he bowed. She walked off and as he straightened, his gaze lingered on her, unwavering. He didn't depart until she joined Fabian.
According to Willie's informant among the staff, the butler was devoted to Mrs. Landers. He had been her family's footman and gained the promotion when she married Mr. Landers a year ago. That accounted for his youth. I'd never met a footman older than mid-thirties. This butler appeared to be about that age. It was still considerably older than Mrs. Landers, who couldn't have been more than twenty-two or three. She seemed to attract the attention of much older men.
I glanced at Mr. Landers. If he noticed the butler's interest in his wife, he didn't show it. He too was mid-thirties, although he wasn't aging well compared to the rather dashing butler.
Mrs. Landers steered Lord Farnsworth toward Matt and me. He was short and slim with ginger-blond hair parted down the middle. He smelled of lavender and musk and wore diamond cufflinks.
"This is Mrs. Glass, the watch magician," Mrs. Landers announced. "And her husband."
Lord Farnsworth took my hand and bowed over it. "What a delight to finally meet you, Mrs. Glass. I've heard so much about you from my friends. You're a lucky fellow, sir," he said to Matt.
"Quite," Matt said.
"I was just telling Farnsworth that he missed out on the news about the coronet," Mrs. Landers said.
"Dreadful shame, that," Lord Farnsworth said.
"What is?" Matt asked.
"The theft. Now it'll be some years before it comes up for sale on the magic market."
"Magic market?" I echoed.
"The trading market for magic objects." Lord Farnsworth indicated the room full of people from the club. "I can't imagine anyone with a stolen artifact in their collection will be too keen to show it off, even in private company. The jealousy will send anyone who catches wind of its whereabouts to the police in two shakes."
"Ah, but to own such a thing," Mrs. Landers said. "Wouldn't that be wonderful? There would be no need to sell it in a hurry. No need at all. One could keep it for decades under lock and key."
Lord Farnsworth pushed out his bottom lip as he considered her words.
"Not that anyone here is a thief," Mrs. Landers added emphatically. "I've already told Mr. Glass to look elsewhere for his suspects."
"The common classes," Lord Farnsworth muttered. "Can't trust a single one of 'em. I'm curious, though. Who was the fellow who owned it?"
"They won't say," Mrs. Landers said. "Mr. Glass doesn't want to divulge who the scandal is about." She leaned closer to Lord Farnsworth, and said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper, "How do you think we can get it out of them?"
"Blackmail."
Mrs. Landers laughed, which in turn made Lord Farnsworth laugh. The topic was abandoned and Farnsworth chatted to Matt about horses and gambling. It quickly became obvious that he was obsessed with both.
That gave me an idea. "Do you play poker, my lord?" I asked.
"Can't say I've tried it yet. You play, Glass?"
"I used to, back home," Matt said.
"And where is home?"
Matt hesitated, his head tilted a little to the side. "America," he said with a smile. A smile that I knew to be false. He thought Farnsworth a nitwit, but I doubted Lord Farnsworth realized.
"So you came here to marry one of our magicians, eh?" Lord Farnsworth winked at me. "Don't you have them in America?"
"None of India's quality," Matt said without missing a beat.
"Indeed. I believe she's very powerful."
"Speaking of wives," Mrs. Landers said, "that's what you need, Farnsworth. Tell him about the wonderful state of marriage, Mr. Glass. Tell him how a wife can bring him joy."
Lord Farnsworth's lips twitched as he tried to contain a smile. "I have quite a bit of joy in my life already."
Mrs. Landers blinked innocently back at him. "A wife will cure you of your need to seek joy elsewhere."
Lord Farnsworth and Matt went quite still.
She suddenly seemed to become conscious of the weighty silence.
"Cure you of going to gambling dens," I said. "That's what Mrs. Landers means."
"Yes," she said with a nervous little laugh. "That's what I meant."
Lord Farnsworth patted her hand, still resting on his forearm. "As it happens, I am on the hunt for the future Lady Farnsworth. Can't put it off any longer. An heir must be got and all that. I think I'd like being a father. I'll teach the lad how to pick a good foal from bad." He thrust out his chin in an attempt to make it appear more prominent, and failed. It was a very weak chin.
"Mr. Glass, you have eligible cousins, don't you?" Mrs. Landers asked. "Lord Rycroft's three daughters," she said to Lord Farnsworth.
I glanced toward Lord Coyle, expecting him to march over and declare that Hope wasn't a consideration as she belonged to him. But he was too far away to overhear our conversation.
The eldest is recently married," Matt said. "The middle one is available, but I must warn you, she's odd. And the youngest is currently considering a proposal which I think she will accept."
Somehow, I refrained from glaring at him. It wasn't fair to cut off potential suitors yet. Hope hadn't given Coyle an answer.
"What a pity," Mrs. Landers said.
"How odd is the middle one?" Lord Farnsworth asked. "Absolutely barking or just a little soft in the head? I don't mind if she's not all there. I'm used to it. My mother thought fairies lived in the garden. She would leave little confections out for them by the lily pond. She fell in once. Had to be fished out by the gardener. We didn't let her out without a strong footman in tow after that."
"Something tells me you two might get along," Matt said, smiling.
I was beginning to agree. It was almost impossible to imagine this man with Angelique L'Amour. She could run rings around him with her intoxicating laugh, her beauty and grace. I supposed a courtesan must take her employers where she could, but this man was ridiculous. How she must long for someone more worthy. No wonder she jumped at the chance to have a clandestine rendezvous with Willie.
Lord Farnsworth wagged his finger at Matt, a slow smile creeping across his lips. "Speaking of families, I just had a thought. You're investigating the theft of the coronet, presumably on behalf of the owner. And who is most likely to ask someone of your caliber to investigate? Who would share such private, scandalous information about their illegitimacy?"
"A family member," Mrs. Landers said on a breath. Her eyes lit up. "It must be Lord Rycroft!"
Lord Farnsworth tapped his chin. "Not necessarily. Who did the older cousin marry?"
My heart sank but I kept calm and smiled benignly.
Mrs. Landers gasped. "Lord Cox!" She turned to Lord Farnsworth. "I know nothing about him. Do you?"
"Quiet chap," he said. "Doesn't own racehorses."
"It's not him," Matt said.
Lord Farnsworth tapped the side of his nose. "Course not." He winked. "We won't say a word."
"Mr. Landers!" Mrs. Landers called.
Her husband looked over at her, a little irritated at the loud interruption to his conversation with Sir Charles.
"We know who owned the coronet that was stolen," she said.
"It's not him," Matt said again.
She signaled for her husband to join her. The drawing room had gone quiet, all eyes on us. I felt cold through to my bones. How had this spiraled out of control so quickly?
"Who is it?" Mrs. Rotherhide asked, taking a step closer.
"It's a family member of Mr. Glass's," Mrs. Landers said with a superior air. "Most likely Lord Cox."
The collective gasp sucked all the air out of the room. Immediately, the murmurs began. Who was Lord Cox? How was he connected to Matt? Was he really illegitimate? Would he lose everything?
It was heart-breaking. We'd come here to gather information on the theft of the coronet, and we were going to leave a trail of destruction behind.
Chapter 11
"It's not Cox!" Matt snapped.
Lord Farnsworth grinned. This was just a game to him, and to Mrs. Landers too. The silly fools didn't care that they were ruining a good man's reputation. It was just gossip, a way to pass the evening. It was sickening.
"You doth protest too much," Lord Farnsworth chided. "So it must be him."
"I did not say it was him," Matt ground out.
Lord Farnsworth put on a serious air. "Your conscience is clear, Glass. If he ever asks me, I will assure the fellow you defended his honor to the bitter end."
"The poor man," Mrs. Landers said. "And his poor wife. She won't be able to enter decent society ever again. What will become of them? Where will they go?"
"Listen to me!" Matt snapped. "It is not Lord Cox."
"Tosh." Lord Farnsworth waved his hand. "It's all right, Glass. Your secret will not go beyond these walls."
Matt seethed. I could feel the anger vibrating off him. One more word from Farnsworth and the idiot lord might find himself at the end of Matt's fist. And that would only add fuel to the fire. The more Matt defended Lord Cox, the less Farnsworth and Mrs. Landers believed him.
The bang of Lord Coyle's walking stick into the floor silenced the whispers. We all turned toward him. "Glass is speaking the truth. I know who that article is about and it's not Cox. If I hear another word against him tonight or any day after this, I will personally seek out the rumormonger and cast him or her out of the club and spread my own rumors about them, true or not. If you think I am not serious, then by all means test me. I have more influence in this city than any of you will ever have, and my word is believed." He folded his hands over the top of his walking stick. "Have I made myself clear?"
Heads bobbed in a series of nods. Mrs. Landers let go of Lord Farnsworth's arm and clung to her husband's instead. Lord Farnsworth paled beneath the glare of Lord Coyle.
"Course it's not Cox," he said with forced cheerfulness. "I hear he's a fine fellow. Very upright. Solid stock, the Coxes. First rate pedigree."
A deafening silence filled the drawing room, broken only by the shuffling of feet and clearing of throats.
Mrs. Landers' forced smile stretched thin as she surveyed the sea of shame-faced guests. With every passing moment, she seemed to grow smaller, her eyes filling with panic as she realized her party was becoming a hostess's worst nightmare—a failure. She was too inexperienced to dig her way out of it. All she could do was stare at the door, as if willing the butler to enter with refreshments and rescue her. But it was too early for supper.
It was Mr. Landers who finally broke the silence with a clap of his hands. "Shall we look at your collection, my dear?"
"Yes!" she cried with relief. "An excellent notion. Mrs. Glass, you sit there, in the front as our honored guest. Everyone else, take a seat please."
I sat where indicated, Matt beside me, while the other guests chose a place in one of the three rows.
"This is exciting," said Mrs. Rotherhide, seated on my other side. "It's been over a year since we saw Mrs. Landers' collection. It was quite small at that point. She's been collecting aggressively since and claims to have some marvelous pieces now. I'm particularly looking forward to seeing the little drummer boy she bought from a magician toymaker last month."
Mrs. Landers stood beside the cabinet and waited as everyone settled. An eager smile had returned to her face, the gossip and Lord Coyle's admonishment already forgotten.
Once everyone was seated, she put out her hand to her husband. He removed a chain with a key attached from his pocket and handed it to her. She unlocked the cabinet, stepped aside, and opened the cabinet door.
The audience leaned forward to get a better look. Several objects were arranged across two shelves. The little toy drummer took pride of place on the top shelf at the front.
"I can't see," a woman behind me said. "It's too dark."
"Then I shall bring them out for you." Mrs. Landers removed a small wooden box without a lid and handed it to me. The silk cloth inside was trimmed with the most intricate, delicate silk birds in flight while the varying shades of white and blue background made it look like they were flying through fluffy clouds.
"It's exquisite," I said.
"Touch it, Mrs. Glass," Mrs. Landers said. "Feel the magic."
I touched the handkerchief. A throbbing warmth spread up my fingers. The magic in it must be quite new. I wondered if the magician could make it fly, then I remembered Abigail Pilcher, the former nun and silk magician. According to Abigail, she was simply able to work silk quicker than anyone else, and turn it into the most beautiful creations. Perhaps she'd made this.
"May I?" asked Mrs. Rotherhide.
I passed the box to her.
"No!" Mrs. Landers cried as Mrs. Rotherhide fingered the silk. "Only Mrs. Glass can touch, to vouch for the strength of the magic. I do apologize, but those are my rules."
"Quite understandable," Mrs. Rotherhide said.
"Tosh," Mrs. Delancey said from behind us. "If one can't touch the items, what is the point?"
"To see them, of course," Mrs. Landers said.
"You keep them locked away in that cabinet," Mrs. Delancey pointed out.
"I bring them out on occasions such as these."
Mr. Delancey looked over Mrs. Rotherhide's shoulder at the box. "Are you open to offers?"
"No," Mrs. Landers said. "Perhaps one day, but not now. Most of these things are new to me, and I want to possess them for a while yet." She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a plate with a slice of white bread on it.
"Bread?" I asked accepting the plate from her.
"It's four months old," Mrs. Landers said. "And look, not
a speck of mold on it. The baker said the magic will last six months before the mold will set in, but I'll keep it until then. I'm very pleased to be able to share that one with you, Mrs. Glass."
"You lucky thing," Matt muttered beside me.
Mrs. Landers stabbed him with a sharp glare.
I went to pass the plate to Mrs. Rotherhide, but Mrs. Landers wouldn't let me. "Touch it first, Mrs. Glass, then pass the plate around."
I dutifully touched the crust. It was a little warm, but not overmuch. I handed the plate to Mrs. Rotherhide.
"It's not my sort of thing." She passed it on to Lord Coyle beside her.
"Good lord," I thought I heard Louisa mutter from two rows back.
Mrs. Landers handed me a small wooden wren on an olive branch next. It was quite lovely and she presented it to me with all the reverence of a maid handing the queen her crown. I was not allowed to pass it on, since it did not come on a plate or in a box.
She continued to produce items from the cabinet, and one by one, I touched them. All held varying degrees of magical warmth. None were the coronet, although I knew she wouldn't hide it in there if she'd been the one to steal it. She might be silly but she wasn't that much of a fool.
Finally, she came to the last item, the little toy boy dressed in a soldier's uniform, a drum slung over his shoulder. At first I thought it was made of wood, then I realized the arms and legs were metal. She turned the key at the back and wound up the mechanism inside then set it on top of the cabinet. The toy's legs moved up and down, marching, and the arms rose and fell, banging the drumsticks on the drum. Most remarkably, the toy actually moved forward. The legs didn't just go up and down, they gave the drummer momentum.
"Remarkable," said one of the guests.
"The tune's a little off," said another. "Is it supposed to be God Save the Queen?"
"It's nothing like God Save the Queen," said Mrs. Delancey. "What is it, Mrs. Landers?"
"I'm not quite sure," Mrs. Landers said, catching the toy before it marched off the cabinet.
"It doesn't march in time to the beat," said Mrs. Rotherhide, sounding disappointed.
