by C. J. Archer
We walked idly past the other shops in the arcade and pretended to take an interest in their displays. "Did you get an address for McArdle?" I asked.
"He's in Chelsea. I must congratulate you on diverting Duffield's attention. Very well done. We'll make a poker player of you yet."
"Hardly." We walked a little more, but I didn't really notice any of the wares in the shop windows. My mind was still on Duffield. The more I thought about it, the more I couldn't believe how well the encounter had gone. He hadn't suspected a thing. "He laid the blame for the break-ins at Daniel's house squarely at McArdle's feet," I said.
"He did. McArdle does seem like the most obvious suspect. He commissioned the map, Daniel refused to give it to him. They argued and McArdle kidnapped him to get it back. When he discovered Daniel didn’t have it, he searched the house."
"The question is, what did he do with Daniel?"
We walked on in heavy silence until Matt stopped outside a milliner's. He nodded at the window where several colorful hats sat upon spikes. "See anything you like?"
"You can end the ruse now. We're well away from Duffield's shop."
"Who said anything about a ruse?"
I let go of his arm. "Stop it, Matt."
"You're right. You need a new evening gown rather than a hat." He glanced along the arcade and nodded at a dressmaker. "I think I've lost the argument with Aunt Letitia. We must resign ourselves to the occasional dinner party."
I stared at him, feeling somewhat out of my depth. "You mean for me to attend these dinners?"
"Of course."
"But I'm not…" Important. I didn't say it and merely shrugged.
"You're as much a part of the household as Willie or even Aunt Letitia."
"I don't think companions or assistants attend things like formal dinners in Mayfair mansions."
"How do you know? Have you ever been a companion or assistant before? Or attended a dinner in a Mayfair mansion?"
I narrowed my gaze. "You're mocking me."
"No, India, I am not." He took my hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. "If I have to endure the damned dinners, so do you. Don't force me to face both Aunt and Willie alone in my weakened state."
I smiled and shook my head. "You're incorrigible."
"Does that mean you're agreeing?"
"If I must, but you'll have to get your aunt to agree too."
"She will." He sounded quite sure, but I suspected Miss Glass would not acquiesce as easily. She was quite a stickler for the proper way of doing things, and social order was paramount. "Let's see what the dressmaker can do for you now."
"But we're busy. We have so much to do."
"We can spare a few minutes."
"Clearly you've never been to a dressmaker's shop before."
An hour and a half later, I'd been measured, poked, spun around and judged by Madame Lisle and her two assistants while Matt watched on. Despite my protests, silks for two evening gowns were chosen, one in sage and ivory, and the other a deep rosy pink. Madame Lisle drew some preliminary ideas based on the latest House of Worth collection in The Young Ladies Journal that she thought would suit my figure. Matt paid a deposit and I insisted on paying him back using the reward money later. The first dress would be available early the following week.
"What if Chronos is found before then?" I asked him.
"I'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
Is that all he had to say on the matter? I was about to press him further when he steered me toward a confectioner's shop near the arcade entrance.
"What do you like?" he asked, surveying the array of colorful sweets in jars behind and on top of the counter. "Peppermint drops? Bulls eyes? Brandy balls?"
"You're not buying me sweets."
He regarded me with a frown. "You're being particularly stubborn today."
I folded my arms over my chest and realized too late that doing so only proved his point. "I am not."
"Actually, the sweets are for my aunt. I only wanted your opinion."
"Oh." My face heated. I felt like a spoiled brat, and an utter fool. "In that case, nothing too hard."
"Good thinking."
He ordered a bag of marshmallows, another of chocolate drops and a third of mixed boiled sweets. "Pity they don't sell fudge," he said. "Now that's a treat."
"She won't like boiled sweets," I said as we left.
"Those aren't for her." He pocketed two of the bags and opened the third. "Go on. Take one."
I selected a red and white Gibraltar rock. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
"I'm not allowed to be nice to the woman who saved my life?"
I looked down at the sweet as we headed into the wan sunshine. I didn't like being reminded of him almost dying in the Vine Street Police Station cell. If I hadn't been able to get his watch to him… It didn't bear thinking about.
"It makes me feel awkward," I said, popping the sweet into my mouth.
"You'll become accustomed to it."
We walked home, sharing the sweets, and Matt joked about manufacturing fudge in England. The confection sounded quite delicious, as did the chocolates he'd tasted on the Continent in his youth. He spoke of those days wistfully, without too much sorrow. I wondered if he thought of his parents at such times, or if he no longer thought of them at all. They'd died fourteen years ago. My father had been dead only a few weeks, and while I thought of him every day, the terrible pain in my heart had eased somewhat. It was still there, but it didn't sting quite so much. Keeping busy helped.
Miss Glass was in the midst of receiving her first callers upon our return. In fact, according to Bristow, who met us at the door, they were Matt's cousins and other aunt, Lady Rycroft. I veered off to the stairs to head for my room, but Matt grabbed my arm.
"Oh no you don't," he said. "I'm not facing a room full of Glass women without reinforcement."
I laughed. "It could be worse. Willie could be with them."
He winced. "Please, come with me. Protect me."
"You don't need protecting. Your cousins will adore you, just like your Aunt Letitia does."
"According to Aunt Letitia, they're all as bad as their mother. My request still stands."
"Oh," I said with mock innocence. "If it's only a request…"
His gaze narrowed.
I grinned. "Come on, then. The sooner you meet them, the sooner the meeting will be over."
I headed into the drawing room first, and bore the full brunt of five frowns. Clearly my presence wasn't expected—or wanted—by any of them. I felt a little bruised at Letitia Glass's disapproval. I thought we'd become friends, in a way. It would seem she didn't think I should meet her nieces.
"There you are, Matthew," she said, accepting Matt's kiss on her cheek.
"Good morning," Matt said breezily. "Aunt Beatrice, I didn't expect to see you again so soon after our last meeting."
"Nor did I." Lady Rycroft surprised me with her quick quip. The last time we'd met her, Matt had admonished her husband in his own home, in front of his servants. Lady Rycroft had been rude to her sister-in-law, and to me, and disdainful of Matt's mother. Seeing her sitting with her hands in her lap while her three daughters perched on the sofa opposite was quite a turnabout. "I hope we can get off on a better foot today. I have no wish to be enemies."
"Nor do I," he said. "We're family, after all."
She gave him a tight smile. To be fair, it may have been tight because of her turban, not because she disliked the idea of being related to him. The turban slanted her eyes and smoothed the skin on her forehead. It didn't affect the grooves carved deeply around her mouth, however. "Allow me to present my daughters to you."
The girls were arranged in a pattern, from tallest to shortest, darkest to fairest, prettiest to plainest. And, as it turned out, youngest to oldest. I guessed them to be aged from about twenty to twenty-five.
"Miss Patience Glass, my eldest." Lady Rycroft indicated the brown-haired girl whose face resembled her mothe
r's ,with lines drooping from the corners of her mouth although not yet as deep. "Miss Charity Glass," she said, pointing out the girl in the middle, whose dark brown hair fell across a ponderous brow. "And finally, Miss Hope Glass." Lady Rycroft clearly favored her younger, pretty daughter with the midnight black hair and milky skin. And it was clear from the scowls of the older girls that they knew it.
Matt bowed over each girl's hand in turn and welcomed them to his home. "Tell me, do you all resemble the traits of your given names?" he asked.
Hope laughed. "Quite the opposite, I'm afraid. Patience cannot abide waiting, Charity is kind enough when someone is watching, and I'm quite the hopeless romantic, according to Mama."
Matt laughed.
"Hope!" her mother scolded. The elder two girls' scowls deepened, but none of it had any effect on Hope. Her smile turned somewhat wicked. I'd wager her mother had her hands full with that one. It was unusual for the two older girls to be unmarried at their age. Unlike me, they had something to offer a husband aside from an education. Their father was a landed gentleman and would no doubt settle an adequate dowry on the girls. The pretty younger one, Hope, shouldn't have much trouble finding a husband at all, but she may be forced to wait until the oldest was married first. Some families worked that way.
"Aunt Beatrice, you recall my assistant, Miss Steele," Matt said, indicating me. It was very obvious from the mere fact that he had to introduce me that Lady Rycroft didn't plan on acknowledging my presence.
"Yes," she said, flatly.
"Pleased to meet you," Hope said. "Tell me, Miss Steele, what sort of things do you do for Cousin Matthew?"
I glanced at Miss Glass, but she seemed not to be listening. I wondered if she'd fallen into one of her vacant episodes where she seemed to forget that she was in company. "I attend meetings with him, take notes, that sort—"
"Matthew, there's no need for your assistant to stay," Lady Rycroft said. "I'm sure she's busy."
Matt stiffened. "She's staying." He'd gone from amenable to growling in the space of a heartbeat, catching all the guests unawares. Lady Rycroft and her daughters gasped.
"Of course she should stay, Mama," Hope said with a nervous laugh and glance at her mother. "She seems like a pleasant sort of person."
Her mother's jaw hardened. "We're here to discuss family business. She is not family."
"But she attends to all my affairs," Matt said, his voice low. "She stays." He indicated I should sit in the only remaining chair while he stood.
I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to be involved in their squabbles. In the end, I only sat because I didn't want Lady Rycroft to win any sort of argument, even a small, insignificant one like this.
"I see this isn't a private call then," Matt began. "So you'd better get on with it, Aunt."
"Oh, but it is a private call," Miss Glass said, rousing. "Isn't it, Beatrice? The girls wanted to meet you, Matthew."
"We did," Hope said quickly. "Our maids said you were the most dashing gentleman they'd ever spied after your visit the other week."
"That's enough, Hope," Lady Rycroft snapped. She drew in a deep breath and put up her hands. "Let's begin again. Letitia is correct, and this is a private call. I wanted to introduce my girls to you so you could choose."
Matt cocked his head to the side, as if he hadn't heard correctly. "Choose?"
"To marry, of course."
Chapter 5
"Marry!" Matt spluttered a laugh, but no one joined in.
I suddenly wished I hadn't remained. This was indeed family business of a nature that I didn't want to get involved in.
"You don't have to choose now," Lady Rycroft told him, her face perfectly serious. "Get to know them better first."
Matt sat on the arm of my chair, very close to me. It didn't go unnoticed by a single person in that room. Five scowling faces once again turned to me, as if it were my fault. He shook his head, over and over. "Are you sure that's what you want?"
Why had he not laughed them out of his home already? He couldn't truly be considering it. Could he?
"It's what both Lord Rycroft and I want, yes. Most assuredly."
"But my uncle dislikes me. He dislikes everything about me."
Lady Rycroft's gaze slid to her hands. "There are the girls' futures to consider."
Ah, now I understood. Matt was the heir, and the girls were unmarried. The entire estate would one day turn over to him, risking the wellbeing of the daughters if they weren't happily settled. It would seem settling the older two in any kind of situation at all, happily or not, wasn't looking likely at their age and with their sour countenances.
"This is so awful," Hope muttered, pressing her gloved hand to her glowing cheek.
"I quite agree," Matt said. "Aunt Letitia, surely you don't approve of this shameless parade."
She spread out her hands. "It had to be done, Matthew. Better to get it over with. I'd like you to remember, however, that there are far more fish in the sea than these three."
"Letitia!" Lady Rycroft gasped in horror. "You should encourage him to choose one of your nieces. It's the right thing to do."
"The right thing for whom?" Miss Glass snapped. "Not for Matthew, I can assure you."
Lady Rycroft bristled. "My girls are good, decent, well-bred ladies. They would make fine wives."
"Not for Matthew."
"Why not?"
"I'd rather not discuss that in front of them."
Hope lifted her chin, and her eyes flashed. Her two older sisters studied their clasped hands resting in their laps.
"I feel as though I've walked into a stage show. Make that a farce." Matt rubbed his forehead. "Let's make one thing clear. I am in no hurry to marry, but when I do, she'll be a woman of my own choosing."
"I am giving you three perfectly fine choices here!" Lady Rycroft's face turned redder and redder, matching her turban.
Her daughters all looked as if they wanted to sink into the sofa. Not even Hope met Matt's gaze.
He sighed. The first signs of tiredness began to show around his eyes and in the slope of his shoulders.
"Think of my girls," Lady Rycroft said. "Think of your family, Matthew. Would you see them suffer?"
"How will they suffer by not marrying me?"
"By being thrown out of their home!"
"I won't throw anyone out of Rycroft. Besides, my uncle seems to be in good health. I doubt he'll fall off the perch any time soon."
She waved her hand, as if the health of her husband was inconsequential to the discussion. I happened to agree with Matt; Lord Rycroft could live for another twenty years or more. "You would see my daughters become homeless urchins?"
I smothered a groan. The girls might be rendered poor by their own standards, if their father died before they married, but they would hardly be urchins. They didn't know the meaning of poor. None of them did and never would.
Matt nudged me with his elbow, and I got the feeling he was trying not to laugh too. He kept a straight face, however, as he regarded each of the girls in turn. Only Hope met his scrutiny with a calm countenance that I couldn't help but admire.
"Hasn't Uncle Richard settled a sum on them all?" Matt asked.
"Ye-es. But their home…" Lady Rycroft's lower lip wobbled. She pulled out a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at the corner of her eye. "Rycroft Estate is everything to them."
"Then it's settled. When I inherit, they can live there, and I'll live elsewhere."
"Assuming you haven't married one of us," Patience said.
Hope glared at her sister. Patience shrugged innocently.
"Don't you want to live there?" Charity asked him.
He met her gaze. "No."
"Why not? What's wrong with Rycroft?"
"It'll be a noose around my neck, just as much as it was for my father."
Both Patience and Charity stared at him aghast, their mouths open like unhinged trapdoors. Hope's sharp eyes softened, however, as she regarded Matt.
"Thi
s is beastly," she said. "I can't bear it. We only just met him and here we are discussing marriage as if we were bargaining chips and he the prize."
"The discussion couldn't be put off any longer," her mother said with a sniff.
"You promised you wouldn't be so forthright about it all, Mama. You've embarrassed us in front of our cousin."
I cleared my throat, but she paid me no mind. Clearly she didn't think it a problem to be embarrassed in front of me.
"There's no time for delicate negotiations," Lady Rycroft said. "He might return to America any day."
"He's not leaving England," Miss Glass announced.
Everyone looked to her.
"Aunt Letitia," Matt said quietly. "We've been through this." He abandoned the rest of his gentle lecture. No matter how many times he'd said it, it never seemed to sink in.
"I don't want to live in America." The eldest, Patience, pouted. "It's so wild."
"It appears we've whittled down the number of candidates to two already," Hope said, with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "That ought to make your choice easier, Cousin. Oh, why don't I make it even easier. I withdraw from the race."
"Hope!" Lady Rycroft blurted out. "Stop being so obstinate and snide. It's most unbecoming in a lady."
"The point I'm trying to make is, I'd like to get to know Matthew as my cousin, without this drama hanging over our heads." She gave Matt a weak smile. "I do apologize. I hope it won't color your perceptions of us. We're not all bad."
He smiled. "I can see that."
I blinked up at him.
"Tell me, Aunt Beatrice," he said, sounding quite cheerful all of a sudden. "Did you tell your daughters what trade my mother's family are in?"
The blood drained from her face. She continued to dab at her eyes with renewed vigor.
"What trade is that?" Hope asked, glancing from one to the other.
"The illegal kind. My mother's family are mostly outlaws."
"Oh." Hope bit her lip. "That's, er, interesting."
"It is, isn't it? Does it make you want to withdraw from the race too, Charity?"
"Quite the contrary," the middle sister said, shifting forward. "It sounds very intriguing."
