The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele Book 3)

by C. J. Archer

  "Oh," I murmured. "You think I'm wrong about him too?"

  He looked pained. "Perhaps. I don't know. But you're not wrong about everyone. You are a good judge of character, India. The only people you misjudged are those deliberately trying to dupe you."

  "Brockwell isn't?"

  "To be honest, I don't know what Brockwell's up to either."

  I turned to the window with a sigh and said nothing. I found it hard to believe that Brockwell wasn't in Payne's pocket. He certainly didn't like us interfering and he didn't believe his own commissioner when it came to Matt's innocence.

  "I wish I could eat my words," Matt said softly. "I'm sorry, India."

  "For what?"

  "For making you doubt yourself."

  I kept my mouth shut and stared out the window for the remainder of the journey. Not because I didn't appreciate his apology, but because I didn't want to think about our little spat over Barratt anymore. I didn't want to argue with Matt over anything, least of all Oscar Barratt.

  Matt used his watch before dinner but did not retire for a rest. Cyclops was the first to arrive home, followed by Duke, then Willie. Miss Glass ate in her rooms so we were able to talk in the dining room after Matt dismissed the servants. We told the others about our eventful day, stopping frequently as Willie interjected with cuss words, exclamations or declarations that she should have been there with her Colt.

  "I admit," I told her, "your presence and your gun would have been welcome when Coyle's man was here. I might have even allowed you to shoot off his little toe, if it meant he would tell us who employed him and why."

  "It would have been my pleasure, India," she said, saluting me with her knife.

  "That's precisely why we're lucky you weren't here," Duke grumbled.

  "You learned that he worked for Lord Coyle on your own," Matt said to me. "Congratulations, India, by the way. I'm very impressed."

  "She could have been caught!" Duke protested. "You want her to follow everyone who threatens you when you're not here?"

  "India's capable of deciding for herself if it's safe enough to do so."

  I narrowed my eyes. Matt's praise was highly suspicious. He must still feel guilty over the argument we'd had earlier.

  "Tell us what you three discovered today," I said, eager to change the topic. "Cyclops, you first. You went to Pitt's, didn't you?"

  Cyclops had been busy piling his plate with enough sliced meats, boiled potatoes, and vegetables to feed all of us, but stopped when I asked my question. "Pitt's shop wasn't busy," he said. "Only a handful of customers came and went."

  "Anyone you recognized?" Matt asked. "Or might recognize again if you saw them?

  He shook his head. "They weren't distinctive."

  I glanced at Matt. Was he going to tell Cyclops that Brockwell had used the same term to describe him?

  "None wore particularly fine clothing," Cyclops went on. "All entered the shop alone, all came out carrying a small package. It was odd, though. None of them looked ill."

  "Perhaps they were purchasing the medicine for an ill family member," I said.

  Cyclops shrugged his shoulders then tucked into his meal. "I'll go back tomorrow."

  "You should lay low for a while," Matt said. "Brockwell spotted you there."

  "Damn it," Cyclops muttered with a particularly severe stab of his fork into a potato.

  "I've got news," Duke announced.

  "So do I," Willie cut in.

  "Ladies first."

  "No." She plucked her wine glass off the table and swirled the contents until a drop fell over the rim and splashed onto the tablecloth. "Mine's the biggest news, so I'll go last. Go on, Duke. You tell 'em your little story."

  "It ain't a little story, I'll have you know. I followed Clark to Abercrombie's shop today and saw 'em arguing."

  "Go on," Matt said when Duke paused to shoot a smug look at Willie. "What did they argue about?"

  "I didn't hear every word, but I definitely heard them say Hale, and also India's name, and magic. The argument was one-sided. Clark did all the shouting and Abercrombie mostly tried to calm him down."

  My gaze connected with Matt's. "Anything else?" I asked.

  Duke shook his head and concentrated on his food.

  "That weren't much." Willie pushed her plate away and shot a smug look at Duke. "Listen to this. Dr. Ritter sold Hale's medicines today. You know, the ones he kept in his office."

  "Sold them!" I said. "To whom?"

  "I don't know. I didn't see it happen. One of the nurses told me about it later."

  "It would've been more helpful if you followed the buyer," Duke muttered.

  Willie rolled her eyes but he didn't see, too intent was he on his beans.

  "It must be Coyle," I said. "He got wind of Hale's magic, perhaps after his discussion with Barratt, and bought the medicines to add to his collection."

  Matt nodded. "I think so too. Good work, Willie."

  "That ain't everything," she said. "Dr. Wiley exploded like a firecracker at the widow of one of his patients. Right in front of other patients, too."

  "The widow?" Matt echoed. "So the patient died."

  "According to my new nurse friend, the patient had been Hale's before he died. Wiley disagreed with Hale's diagnosis and changed the treatment. Well, the patient up and died this morning. The widow was no weeping violet, though. No, sir. She marched up to Wiley when he was doing his rounds and shouted at him. I could hear her clear at the other end of the ward, calling Wiley a bad doctor and wishing Hale was still there because her husband had been getting better under his care. By then, I reached that ward, and just in time, too. That's when Wiley snapped. He ranted and raved about how poor a doctor Hale had been, and that it was only luck her husband hadn't died under Hale's care, not good doctoring. He went on and on about Hale's mistakes and how some patients just up and die for no good reason, but maybe because they ain't got the will to live no more. That's when he accused her of being a bad wife and said her husband died to escape her."

  I gasped. "That's awful! What a horrid man."

  "If I were her, I'd have thumped him," Cyclops said.

  Duke nodded. "You win, Willie."

  "She does," Matt said. "And now I know where to go first thing in the morning."

  Miss Glass tried to get Matt and I to remain home the next morning, but he refused. "I'm sorry, Aunt, but we have to go out. Urgent business."

  "To do with that doctor's murder?" she asked, handing him his glove.

  He blinked at her.

  "I'm not a complete fool, Matthew," she said. "I know I lose my wits sometimes, but I do see things."

  "Yes, it's to do with Dr. Hale's murder. We're helping the police with their investigation."

  She did up his jacket button for him then patted his lapels. "I wish you wouldn't get involved in such a vulgar thing as police work."

  "I'm sorry you find murder vulgar, Aunt Letitia. Believe me, you're not the only one."

  "It's not just the murder but the police themselves. I do like knowing they're protecting us from criminals, or trying to, but I wonder what sort of person wants to go about chasing down murderers and thieves and other undesirable characters."

  "The active sort." He kissed her forehead. "Did you have plans for India and me today?"

  "You, yes. I wanted to take you to lunch with me. Lady Abbington is going, and Oriel Haviland, and your cousins, too."

  "Another time, Aunt. When this is over."

  "Promise me?"

  He clasped her hands in his. "Promise. You can throw as many eligible women at me as you can possibly find. I just can't promise to like any of them."

  "That is entirely the wrong attitude, Matthew."

  He smiled. "Ready, India?"

  "Oh, and India, before you go," Miss Glass said. "Wait there." She disappeared into the adjoining sitting room and came out again a moment later carrying a piece of folded soft green fabric. "I bought this for you."

  "For me?" I said,
accepting it.

  "It's a shawl. It will look lovely with your coloring." She helped me adjust the shawl around my shoulders then stepped back and smiled. "I was right. It does."

  "That's very kind of you, Miss Glass, but you didn't have to."

  "It's a token of how much I value your friendship." She stepped in and fussed with the shawl near my throat. When it dragged on too long, I touched her elbows. She stepped back again, and that's when I saw her damp eyes. "You're very special to me," she said quietly. "Very special indeed."

  "Thank you," I said, not quite sure how to react. Was it an apology gift because she felt guilty for forbidding me from being with Matt, or did she genuinely consider me a close friend? Perhaps it was both.

  I removed the wrap and handed it to Bristow. "Please take it to my room."

  "My aunt is behaving very oddly lately," Matt said as we drove off. "More so than usual, and mostly with you. Is everything all right between you?"

  I nodded. I would not tell him that his aunt forbade a tendre between us. It would only embarrass me and make things awkward. I couldn't bear that. "Perhaps she's lonely. We are out of the house an awful lot. I should be home with her more."

  "She's been doing quite a lot of visiting herself, lately. I don't think it's loneliness. And you're busy, anyway. I have need of you too."

  The coach slowed as we approached the London Hospital. My reticule, which I'd been holding loosely, throbbed. Startled, I let it go and it fell off my lap and landed on the floor at my feet.

  Matt picked it up. "Is everything all right?"

  "It moved."

  He held up the reticule by its ribbon. The little pouch twirled slowly until it settled, but it did not throb again. "It's not moving now," he said.

  "The watch inside pulsed, like it did that day the Dark Rider attacked me. Matt, I think—"

  The coach door wrenched open and a figure wearing a billowing black hooded cloak jumped in. I swallowed a scream and crowded against the far side of the cabin. Matt grabbed the man by his cloak and shook him. The hood fell back.

  It was Coyle's thug!

  "How dare you," Matt snarled, rising off the seat. The cabin seemed too small all of a sudden, the ceiling too low. Both men filled it, trapping me in the corner.

  My watch chimed. Matt no longer held my reticule but I couldn't see it.

  "Let me go, Mr. Glass, or you'll regret it," the man said to Matt in his thick cockney accent. Yet it was his calm, sinister tone that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise, not the threat itself.

  Matt twisted his fist, tightening the cloak at the man's throat, forcing him to lift his chin. "You're coming with us to Scotland Yard," Matt growled.

  "No, Mr. Glass, I ain't." The click of a gun cocking stopped my heart dead. "Let me go or I'll shoot."

  Chapter 12

  Matt uncurled his fingers and eased his fist out of the man's cloak. "There's a lady present," he said through clenched teeth.

  "I ain't blind," Coyle's thug shot back.

  "Let her go then we'll talk."

  "We're past the point of talk, Mr. Glass, and your woman ain't going nowhere. She's a part of this. Now, put your hands in the air, both of you."

  I did but Matt hesitated. "Matt!" My whispered voice trembled.

  He slowly raised his hands. "Are you all right, India?"

  I nodded and tried not to look terrified out of my wits.

  The man jerked the gun at Matt. "Order your driver to move on."

  "Bryce!" Matt called. "Drive off!"

  "Where to, sir?" Bryce called back.

  "Just drive around," the man said.

  "Anywhere!" Matt shouted. "And go as fast as you can!"

  "Fast, eh?" The thug's dry chuckle hung in the cloying air of the cabin. "You think you can overpower me without this going off?" He turned the gun on me. "Think again."

  The coach rolled forward and the thug settled on the seat where I'd been sitting moments ago. I perched at the other end with Matt occupying the opposite seat. He didn't take his gaze off Coyle's man.

  "You didn't heed my last warning," the man said. "I told you not to continue your investigation, and yet you were about to go to the hospital where Hale worked."

  "You followed us," Matt said.

  The man shrugged. "Since you didn't listen to me, I have to punish you so you know I'm serious."

  "Punish?" I whispered. "What are you going to do?"

  My watch chimed, a sharp sound that punctured the tense air.

  "Let me show you," the man said. "Remove your glove, Miss Steele, and give me your right hand."

  "Don't, India," Matt snapped.

  The watch chimed again, louder.

  "Either you give me your hand, Miss Steele, or I shoot you.

  The watch chimed again, and I hesitated. It was warning me. Against giving him my hand or against inaction? "What will you do?" I asked.

  "Since you're such a pretty lady, I'll kiss it first." He smiled, revealing a chipped front tooth and several crooked ones. "Then I'll snap every bone in every finger."

  I recoiled. My stomach rebelled and bile burned my throat.

  Again, my watch chimed, louder than before. The thug glanced around, annoyed, but his gaze quickly settled on me again.

  "You touch her and I'll kill you." Matt's harsh voice filled the cabin over the rumble of wheels.

  "Either I break your hand or I shoot you, Miss Steele. It's your choice."

  "Why?" I whispered.

  "Because you didn't take my first threat seriously. Maybe a broken hand will remind you the next time you decide to continue with the investigation. Now, put out those pretty, fine fingers and let me kiss them first. If you don't, I put a bullet through you. I reckon your shoulder. What do you think, Mr. Glass?"

  Matt's ragged breaths expanded his chest. "You won't get out of this coach alive if you hurt her."

  My watch's chime clanged like a bell.

  The thug flinched. "Where is that bleeding racket coming from?"

  "It's my watch," I said. "It's in my reticule. I dropped it when you ambushed us."

  "Pick it up and hand it to me. Do it slowly."

  I reached down and my hand touched the reticule's fabric. I passed it to the thug and he squeezed the pouch, feeling for a pistol or other weapon perhaps. Then he suddenly let it go.

  The reticule bounced on his lap, leaping inches into the air, and the watch clanged over and over with deafening relentlessness. Coyle's man stared at it, his eyes huge. "What the devil—?"

  Matt lunged at the hand holding the gun. It went off.

  "Matt!" I screamed.

  Oh God, was he hurt? Had he been shot?

  Strips of leather, wool and wood rained down on me. The leather-clad ceiling sported a large hole, exposing its woolen padding. Matt hadn't been hit. I half sighed, half sobbed in relief.

  Matt wrestled the man in the corner, causing the cabin to rock violently. He pinned down the hand that clutched the gun and dug his knee into the man's chest. His other hand circled his throat. The thug's eyes bulged, and his face turned a dangerous shade of purple.

  "Don't kill him!" I cried.

  My reticule had fallen to the floor again. I picked it up and opened the drawstring mouth. My watch had fallen silent and no longer leapt about. I pulled it out and checked it. It seemed to be in perfect order and even warmed to my touch. I didn't return it to my reticule but kept it in my hand.

  "India, order Bryce to drive to Coyle's house," Matt said, taking the gun off the man.

  "Not Scotland Yard?" I asked.

  "Not yet." He sat back on the seat and pointed the gun at the thug.

  I opened the window and gave Bryce new orders then closed it again.

  Coyle's man rubbed his red throat and scowled at Matt. "I'll gut you when I get free," he rasped.

  "You won't get free," Matt said.

  He barked a laugh that made him cough.

  "Lord Coyle won't save you," Matt said. "You've just become a liab
ility."

  We drove in silence to Belgravia. Bryce must have remembered which house was Lord Coyle's from a previous visit, because he pulled up outside its grand entrance.

  "Everything all right, sir?" the coachman asked as we alighted. "I thought I heard a…" He trailed off when he saw Matt pointing a gun at the thug's head.

  "Wait here," I directed him then followed Matt up the steps.

  The butler opened the door and fell back a step. Matt didn't wait to be invited inside but shoved the thug across the threshold despite the butler's protests.

  "Your master," Matt snapped. "Now!"

  "I-I'll see if h-he's in," the butler said.

  "He better damn well be in."

  The next two minutes were excruciating on my nerves. Matt held the back of the thug's collar in his left hand and the gun at his temple with his right. Both men had lost their hats in the coach.

  Finally Lord Coyle trudged down the stairs, flanked by two young, wide-eyed footmen and the butler, who'd regained his composure and now looked down his nose at us.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Coyle demanded in a voice as robust as his stout body.

  Matt hustled the thug forward. "Your man attacked us. He threatened to break Miss Steele's fingers if we didn't stop investigating Hale's murder."

  "My man?" Coyle looked the brute up and down and wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something foul. "I've never seen him before."

  "Don't play me for a fool, Coyle. He was seen coming here."

  Coyle looked to his butler.

  "Er…a delivery of some sort, if I recall, sir. Nothing important."

  "He came to the front door," I pointed out, "not the service entrance."

  "It is hardly my master's fault if that fellow doesn't know the proper order of things." The butler straightened and placed his hands at his back. He looked entirely too smug for my liking.

  "There you have it, Glass," Coyle said, stroking his thumb and forefinger along his drooping white mustache. "This man has nothing to do with me. Now if you'll kindly remove him from my premises, I would be most grateful."

  Matt pulled hard on the man's collar and he made a choking sound. "Threatening me is one thing, Coyle, but you do not threaten Miss Steele and get away with it."