by C. J. Archer
Brockwell paused, but whether pauses were simply part of his plodding manner, or it was a sign of his uncertainty, I couldn't be sure. "The commissioner didn't mention this to me."
Matt sat calmly, waiting for the inspector to go on. Neither man seemed unnerved by the taut silence, but my nerves jangled. I closed my fist tight and dug my nails into my palm to distract me.
"I don't know why Munro would allow you to interfere when you are also a suspect," Brockwell eventually said.
"You don't need to know," Matt shot back.
"I beg to differ." Brockwell got up and strolled idly around the room, inspecting objects, pictures, and his reflection in the mirror above the mantel. He scratched his sideburn again.
Matt relaxed into the armchair. How could be remain so calm?
"The thing is," Brockwell finally said, "I've heard all about you, Mr. Glass."
"Heard what?" Matt said, matching Brockwell's idle tone. His body, however, went rigid.
"That your past in America has been checkered, to put it mildly."
Oh no. If Commissioner Munro hadn't said anything, it must have been Sheriff Payne, hoping to ruin Matt's reputation and raise Brockwell's suspicions.
"Munro already knows about my past," Matt said. "He's communicated with lawmen from the States to confirm that I work for them from time to time."
"Yes, but I have it on good authority that Commissioner Munro and your American contacts don't know the half of what you've done. The illegal half, that is."
Matt stood and strolled over to Brockwell. He was considerably taller and broader across the shoulders, but Brockwell didn't back away. He met Matt's gaze with his own direct one. "I'd wager, Detective, that you are the one who doesn't know the half of it. Don't believe everything Sheriff Payne tells you."
Surprise flickered across Brockwell's face before his features flattened again. "I never take anyone at face value, Mr. Glass. I'm aware that a charming exterior can hide the most villainous nature. Even the most well-to-do families have secrets."
That was most certainly a reference to Matt and his well-to-do English relatives. The man was shameless.
"This is outrageous," I said, springing to my feet. "You come here and insult Mr. Glass, who has been nothing but helpful to your police force. Do not forget that he has solved two crimes for your organization."
"I believe you solved the first of those, Miss Steele," Brockwell said, a hint of amusement in his voice. That only riled me more.
"There you go again, Detective, jumping to conclusions when you don't have all the information. Mr. Glass was very much involved in solving the case of the Dark Rider, but he allowed me to take the credit so I could claim the reward." I had the great satisfaction of seeing Brockwell look uncertain. "The sheriff wants you to think Matt is corrupt, and yet it is he who is corrupt. While that cannot be proved, it doesn't mean it's not true. Until such a time that it is proved, you ought to follow your commissioner's example and give Matt the benefit of the doubt. Now, kindly leave."
I strode to the door and stood by it, waiting for Brockwell. With a glance at Matt first, he joined me.
"My apologies for upsetting you, Miss Steele," he said with a short bow.
"It's not me you ought to be apologizing to."
He offered a tight smile but no apology to Matt. "The fact remains that you are hindering my investigation by speaking to one of my suspects."
"How is that hindering?" Matt asked. "In fact, if we compared answers, we might learn something."
Brockwell seemed to consider this but shook his head. "I'll do it on my own."
"There's no need to work alone. Together, we can find the murderer faster."
"I work perfectly well on my own, Mr. Glass. I haven't reached the rank of detective inspector by sharing my results with others."
What an arrogant man! And a fool, at that. I shook my head at Matt, wanting him to know that I thought it pointless to press Brockwell further.
"While I have Munro's authority to investigate, I will continue to question whomever I like," Matt said. "Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Brockwell bit off. "Good day, Miss Steele."
He marched past me and accepted his hat from Bristow. Willie and Duke stood guard by the open front door and watched him leave. Brockwell descended the steps slowly and passed the brougham, with Bryce in the driver's seat, waiting for us. Duke slammed the door closed.
"What did that turd want?" Willie asked.
"To tell me to stop investigating." To Bristow, Matt said, "My hat, please. India, our visit to the hospital will have to wait. I'm going to call upon Commissioner Munro."
"Alone?" I asked.
He nodded. "Duke, Willie, find Cyclops. I want the three of you to go in search of Sheriff Payne."
Duke and Willie exchanged glances. "Where do we start?" Duke asked.
"I have no idea." Matt slapped his hat on his head and pulled on his gloves and Bristow opened the door. Matt turned to me. His hard features relaxed somewhat.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you to speak to Munro?" I asked.
"It's not necessary. I don't think we'll get to the hospital at all today. Why not visit Miss Mason while I'm out?"
I watched him go then listened to Duke, Willie and Cyclops in the library as they planned their search for Payne. Matt had set them an impossible task, yet none whined, not even Willie. With my help, they drew up a list of hotels, but no one considered them a viable possibility. If Payne found himself in London for some time, he would have secured cheaper lodgings, perhaps in a private house. If that were the case, he'd be extremely difficult to find.
"Do you want me to help?" I asked.
"The three of us will be enough for today," Cyclops assured me. "You take the afternoon off, like Matt suggested. We can drive you to Miss Mason's, if you like, then continue on our way."
"I think it's wise if I stay away from the Masons for a little while. Could you drive me to the Cross Keys instead? I'd like to have a drink."
"You shouldn't go alone," Duke said. "All sorts find themselves in taverns."
"The Cross Keys is respectable enough, and it's the middle of the afternoon. Thank you for your concern, Duke, but I'll be fine."
Willie clamped her hand on my shoulder. "Good for you, India. I reckon it's a good idea."
I spent an hour at the Cross Keys, sitting in a booth and watching people come and go. No one bothered me. The man I knew as DuPont didn't enter, although I hadn't really held any hopes that he would. According to the innkeeper, who remembered me from my first visit, Chronos hadn't returned at all, and he restated his promise to notify Matt if he did.
I caught an omnibus back to Park Street, but it was slow progress thanks to the late afternoon traffic. Matt walked in soon after me. I told him where I'd been, and he told me how his meeting with Munro went.
"As well as can be expected," he said with a sigh. "He said he'll speak to Brockwell."
The clock on the library mantel chimed six. "I'd best get ready for dinner," I said. "Your aunt went up a half hour ago. The others should be back soon."
"Before you do." He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a small package. He handed it to me. "I went shopping after seeing Munro, and I bought you something to wear tonight."
I stared at the parcel wrapped in brown paper. "Why are you giving me gifts?"
"Can I not give my friend a gift from time to time?"
"No!"
He smiled, and it was wonderfully mischievous. It made me happy to see him in a good mood, despite today's setback with Brockwell. "Just open it, India."
I unwrapped the paper then lifted the lid on the box. Nestled on a bed of royal blue velvet was a silver brooch in the shape of a winged dragon. Its bright green eyes sparkled. Were they paste or real emeralds? I wasn't experienced in gems to know the difference and I didn't want to seem greedy by asking.
"It's beautiful," I said on a breath. "It'll look lovely pinned to my sage and
ivory gown. I don't wish to seem ungrateful, Matt, but why are you giving this to me?"
"Because I left without thanking you for standing up to Brockwell on my behalf. I want you to know it was appreciated." He nodded at the box. "Dragons are fierce, and so are you when you want to be."
"A simple thanks would have sufficed."
"Why make a simple gesture when a grand one is possible? Do you like it?"
"Very much so. Thank you."
He smiled and a slight blush crept over his cheeks. "It was a choice between that dragon, a beetle and a butterfly. I didn't think butterflies or beetles particularly fierce."
"Clearly you've never met a stink bug."
Lord and Lady Rycroft and their daughters were the first to arrive. We'd seen little of Lord Rycroft since the first meeting between Matt and his uncle. On that occasion, Matt had almost thrashed Lord Rycroft after he threw out some insults that Matt took offence to. His frosty greeting would indicate that he hadn't forgiven his nephew.
Matt, however, greeted his uncle politely, along with his aunt and cousins. We gathered in the drawing room for drinks and conversation but it was terribly stilted. Lord and Lady Rycroft could barely even look at Willie, Duke and Cyclops. It was as if they could pretend that Matt's friends and poor relation weren't present if they ignored them. I fared little better, receiving only a cool greeting from both.
Their daughters weren't quite so rude, and I made a point of asking Patience questions about her wedding. She warmed to me after a few minutes and shyly showed me her engagement ring.
"It's lovely," I said.
"As is your brooch." She nodded at the dragon pinned to my dress. "Is it a family heirloom?"
"Goodness, no. My family heirlooms consist entirely of timepieces. Your cousin gave me this just today."
Hope had been talking to Matt but suddenly swiveled to face me. Her gaze fell to the brooch. "How sweet," she declared. "Look at those emerald eyes."
Charity, sitting on my other side, leaned in to inspect the brooch. "Are they real emeralds?"
"Of course they damn well are," Willie snapped. "If you knew Matt better, you'd know he don't like fakes." She shot Hope a wicked smile. "Of any type."
Hope bristled, and Matt quickly engaged her in conversation again.
"Don't mind my sisters, Miss Steele," Patience whispered. "They're jealous that Matthew is giving you his attention."
I glanced at Matt. He seemed to be giving Hope all his attention at the moment. "Thank you, Patience. You're very kind. Your future husband is a very lucky man. I hope he knows it."
She broke into a grin, improving her otherwise plain features and brightening her eyes. She wasn't pretty, particularly compared to her sisters, but I was beginning to enjoy her company. I'd much rather be seated next to her than either Charity or Hope.
We talked some more about her wedding while Miss Glass tried to engage her brother and sister-in-law in conversation, only to receive scowls and curt answers from Lord Rycroft. Lady Rycroft was too distracted by Matt and Hope to speak to anyone. Willie and Duke had to fend for themselves while Cyclops found himself cornered, quite literally, by Charity Glass. She stood indecently close and blinked up at him with exuberant innocence. His one eye watched her warily, as if he expected her to attack him at any moment.
Brisk footsteps approaching the drawing room provided a welcome distraction from the tension in the air, and we all turned to greet Lady Abbington. But it was not Lady Abbington who entered.
It was Sheriff Payne.
Chapter 7
Matt sprang to his feet and marched up to Payne. "What do you want?" he said, a thread of steel running through his voice.
"India," his aunt whispered. "It's that awful man again."
"He barged right past me, Mr. Glass," Bristow said, looking agitated.
"What's the meaning of this?" Lord Rycroft demanded in a petulant manner unique to the ruling class. "Who is this upstart?"
Duke cracked his knuckles and Cyclops extricated himself from the corner. He stood beside Matt. Willie, who'd not changed out of men's clothes, muttered something about leaving her Colt in her room. I went to stand beside Miss Glass. Her trembling hand touched mine.
Payne licked his lips. "You cur."
"Get out before I thrash you," Matt barked.
"You'd dare to thrash a man of the law?"
"You're not the law here."
"Girls!" Lady Rycroft cried, flapping her arms about as if she were directing traffic. "Girls, to me!" But none of her daughters moved. They were riveted to the drama playing out before them.
"I'm glad you've got visitors," Payne said, his thin mouth stretching into a thinner smile. "I want them to hear about your thieving family back home."
"This is my family," Matt said, almost sounding amused. "And they already know about my American side. Believe me, they're quite disgusted by my past. Nothing you say will make it worse."
A sheen of sweat broke out on Payne's high forehead beneath his hat brim. Matt's nonchalance was getting to him. "You sure about that? They know the particulars?" The more he spoke, the thicker his American accent became and the less confident he sounded.
"You're angry at me for speaking to Munro," Matt said, the steeliness back in his voice. "I understand. It's frustrating being thwarted at every turn."
"I ain't thwarted, Glass. Not in the least." Payne snickered. His eyes flashed and he planted his feet a little apart, as if settling himself in for a long stay. "Want me to tell them something they don't know?"
"Duke, Cyclops, help Bristow show Sheriff Payne to the door."
"Sheriff?" Lord Rycroft's bellow startled Miss Glass. He squared up to Matt, getting between him and Payne, although they taller and easily peered over his head. "Matthew, I demand to know what's going on."
"Shut it," Willie snapped. "This ain't your affair."
Rycroft's jowls wobbled in indignation, proving that he couldn't entirely ignore Willie and the others, no matter how much he pretended to.
"I'll see you swing, Glass," Payne snarled. "Be it here or back home, makes no difference to me."
Miss Glass gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. One of the Glass girls whimpered while their mother flapped a handkerchief in front of her face.
"Do something, Richard," she begged her husband. But Lord Rycroft merely glared down his nose at Payne with righteous indignation and said nothing.
Duke and Cyclops grabbed Payne by the arms and hauled him backward, dragging his heels on the carpet. His feet scrabbled for purchase and he tried to struggle free, but could not. His hat fell off and Bristow picked it up. They got him to the door when the clock on the mantel chimed. Payne glanced at it and blinked.
Then, as if the chime triggered something, his anger vanished. His brittle, harsh chuckle filled the silence. "I know your secret," he blurted out as they dragged him from the room. "I know you need your watch. I know what it does."
Oh no.
"How do you know?" Willie snapped.
Matt's hand whipped out and grasped her arm. He must have squeezed hard because she winced.
Payne's protests finally quieted, and the front door opened and closed. A strained silence followed in which no one seemed to know what to do or say. Lord Rycroft finally broke it.
"Come, Beatrice, we're leaving."
"No," Matt said. "Stay. He's gone now. You have nothing to fear, Uncle."
"Afraid of some crackpot American?" He snorted and puffed out his chest. "Hardly. Beatrice, the choice is yours."
Lady Rycroft blinked back tears and looked at each of her daughters, although her gaze settled longest on Hope.
"Let's stay, Mama," Hope said. "I'm sure he won't come back now he's said his piece."
That settled it, and there was no more discussion of leaving. Lady Abbington arrived seven minutes later, blissfully unaware of the drama that preceded her. She sailed into the drawing room with all the serenity and grace that Miss Glass claimed she possessed. I quickly learne
d that she had not overstated Lady Abbington's charms or beauty. Her fair hair had been elegantly arranged with a string of pearls woven through it, and her deep violet gown showed off a tiny waist and creamy skin at her throat.
But it was the confidence with which she held herself that caught my attention. After introductions, she easily fell into conversation with both of Matt's aunts and his uncle, none of whom mentioned Payne's visit. Matt stood with them, part of the conversation yet not contributing, and hardly glancing Lady Abbington's way. His mind was elsewhere. On Payne, no doubt. He absently touched his breast pocket where he kept the watch, proving my point.
I could tell from Willie, Duke and Cyclops's silences that they thought about Payne too. I wished we could all discuss his accusation, but that would have to wait. For now, I was left with troubled thoughts flitting through my head. Surely Payne couldn't possibly know about Matt's watch—not for certain. He must have been guessing, based on what he'd witnessed a few weeks ago when he'd spied Matt using his watch in the carriage, early one evening. Whether he knew magic was involved, I couldn't be sure, but he did seem to presume the watch was important to Matt.
The dinner gong finally sounded, and we headed into the dining room. Miss Glass blamed the odd numbers and balance of genders on her nieces being present, something which made her sister-in-law bristle and Hope dismiss with laughter.
She stopped laughing, however, when she saw that she was seated at one end of the dining table and Matt at the other. Her mother pursed her lips and looked as if she would protest the arrangement when Charity piped up.
"Do swap seats with me, Hope," she said from where she sat on Matt's side. "You know I can't abide being so near the fireplace."
"The fire has been extinguished," Miss Glass told her.
"But I still don't like sitting near fireplaces, Aunt Letitia. It's the mantelpieces, you know." Charity didn't wait for a response but simply moved to the opposite end of the table.
Hope tried to smile and pretend not to be embarrassed but the candlelight picked out her blush. Dipping her head, she walked calmly to her sister's vacated chair and sat.
