by C. J. Archer
She sighed. "I don't know. Give him time, I suppose, while I settle in to things here."
"It'll be good to be busy, and for him not to be."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll have work to occupy your mind, but after he's finished helping here, he'll have little to do. It'll give him time to think about you and come to the conclusion that he misses you and wants you in his life."
She sighed again. "I hope so." With a customary toss of her blonde curls, she shrugged off her melancholia and smiled. "Tell me more about your honeymoon. What was it like?"
"Lovely. The air was fresh, the hotel was—"
"That's not what I meant, India." She glanced at the door then leaned closer to me. "What was it like? Being with a man?"
"If you're trying to shock me, you failed. I'm used to Willie and her crassness. As to your question, I'll say that waking up in Matt's arms was delightful."
She made a sound of disappointment. "You can do better than that. I need more details." She slowly wiped over an already sparkling cog before repeating the action. "Without being too specific, of course. Just generalizations about the…" She searched for the right word before holding up the cog. "The mechanics."
I took the cog from her and placed it with the others in the box. "I'm sure your mother will discuss it with you when the time comes."
"Lord, I hope not. Besides, she won't tell me until the day before my wedding."
"So?"
She clutched the box of parts to her chest and leveled her gaze with mine. "What if I never marry? I don't want to die a spinster whose castle has never been conquered, India."
I stared at her, not quite sure which was worse—that she was talking about her death, or that she was considering losing her virginity to a man who was not her husband. I wasn't a prude, but Catherine was not the sort of girl to disregard societal norms. Then again, she had teamed up with her brother to manage their own shop against their parents' wishes, and she wanted to have a relationship with a man they disapproved of. It was time I admitted that. Catherine had a rebellious streak. I just wasn't sure how far that streak stretched.
"Cyclops won't agree to…conquer your castle unless he marries you," I said. "He's far too honorable."
She thrust out her chin. "If you won't tell me, I'll ask Willie."
"You'll do no such thing! Willie will teach you—"
The door to the shop opened and Matt strolled in. "What's Willie teaching?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, my cheeks heating.
Catherine suppressed a smile, and I realized I'd walked right into her trap. If I didn't tell her something, she'd go to Willie, and Willie would tell her more than a respectable woman needed to know.
"Keeping secrets from me already, Mrs. Glass?" Matt might have said it lightly, but the heat suddenly drained from my face. I felt ill again.
This secret wasn't going to hurt us, but my other secret would. Every time I thought about it, my insides tied into a knot. Now it felt like someone was pulling the ends of the knot, tightening it.
"I ought to return home and freshen up before my meeting with Fabian," I said. "Matt, will you accompany me?"
"Of course." He smiled effortlessly, but I detected uncertainty. We both knew I didn't need an escort, and he'd planned to remain there while I met with Fabian.
He helped me into the carriage and shut the door. "If you don't want to go to the meeting, you don't have to."
"It's not that." I blew out a breath, but failed to steady my jangling nerves.
Matt's frown deepened. "What's wrong?"
"I have something to tell you and…" I swallowed. "And you're not going to like it."
He sat back, his shoulders stiff, his sharp eyes focused on me as if that could gouge the words out of me. But the words had become stuck. I didn't know how to say what I needed to say. I didn't know if I should say it, I just knew that I wanted to end the wretched feeling that came over me every time I thought about the agreement I'd made with Lord Coyle.
Would telling Matt make me feel better? Or would it only make things worse?
Chapter 2
"Go on," Matt said. "You've come this far, you have to tell me now."
"Yes. Right. Of course." I swallowed again. It was now or not at all. "The thing is…you see…I was the one who convinced Lord Cox to marry Patience."
"How?" he asked, his voice threaded with steel.
"You know how."
He let the silence stretch as that gaze continued to spear into me. I held it, even though it took all of my willpower to do so. I couldn't look away now and let him think I was ashamed of my actions.
"It was the only way," I finally said. "If I didn't use Lord Coyle's information to blackmail Lord Cox, he would never have agreed to marry Patience. You would have remained betrothed to her. Indeed, you'd be married by now."
He broke the connection and turned to look out the window. A pulse throbbed in his throat above his neck cloth. "I asked you not to go to Coyle."
I took a leaf out of his book and let the silence go on.
It worked, and he continued talking, albeit in that tight, dark tone that worried me. "Now you owe him, India."
"I made it clear that I won't extend someone's life with Gabe. He knows I won't do something I don't want to do."
He slowly turned to face me. His features softened and he looked weary rather than angry. It didn't ease my anxiety or my conscience. "Do you think it matters what promises he made to you? If you refuse to do as he asks, he'll force you."
"He can't force me to do something I don't want to do."
He turned back to the window, his elbow resting on the sill. The edge of his finger skimmed over his top lip, a slow deliberate motion that would have been alluring if not for the tension between us.
"I suppose you're wondering why I waited until after we married before telling you." When he didn't speak, I went on anyway. "I waited because I thought if I told you beforehand, you would have ended our engagement and informed Patience that Lord Cox was being blackmailed into marrying her then married her yourself. I thought you would do it to save me from owing Coyle. And I didn't want you to save me."
He continued to stare out the window.
I clutched my reticule tighter. I'd known I'd receive either shouted fury or cold silence, so his reaction wasn't unexpected, but I preferred shouting. At least he would get it out of his system.
"I wanted you to marry me, Matt, and the only way to do that was to wait until after the wedding to inform you. I couldn't risk you backing out."
"We married two weeks ago."
"I enjoyed our honeymoon too much to ruin it." Tears stung my eyes and clogged my throat. Our happiness had come to an abrupt end and all because he hated that I'd betrayed him. How long would it take for him to forgive me? Would he ever completely forgive me or trust me again?
Neither of us spoke for the remainder of the journey. When we reached number sixteen Park Street, Matt alighted first and held the door open for me, then climbed back inside. I fought back my disappointment but the tears rose again. Not that Matt saw. He seemed to be taking great pains not to look at me.
Neither of us spoke. He probably couldn't bear to talk to me at that moment, just like he couldn't bear to look at me. For my part, I thought it best not to tell him that I would go against his wishes again if the alternative was to lose him.
Fabian had taken a house not far from where we lived. His family was wealthy, having used their iron magic to create marvels of industrial engineering, but he wasn't involved in the family business. Like my grandfather, Fabian was passionate about the possibilities of magic. He wanted to create magical wonders, the likes of which hadn't been seen for centuries, and to do that, he needed to expand his knowledge of the language of magic. But he wasn't powerful enough to do it on his own. According to him, I might possess the necessary power. I wasn't so certain, but I wanted to try. He'd agreed to let me decide what happened to any spells I created. He would
not use them against my wishes.
The only one who knew about Fabian's promise and didn't like it was my grandfather. Chronos had been excited to learn that I might be a powerful magician and he begged me to work with Fabian, but that was before he realized he wouldn't get access to our new spells. I was relieved to see he wasn't at Fabian's house when I arrived.
But Lady Louisa Hollingbroke was.
"How lovely to see you again, India." She kissed my cheek as if we were old friends and invited me to sit and have tea, as if she were mistress of the house.
I glanced at Fabian but he merely watched on with a serious set to his mouth and a small frown connecting his brows. He was a fine looking gentleman, with slicked back hair and a strong jaw, but it was his confidence that set him apart from most men. He seemed sure of himself without being arrogant and equally assured that he would get what he requested. I suspected it was the result of being born into a wealthy family and having an abundance of natural charm. Much like Matt.
"I wasn't expecting to see you here," I said as I sat.
"Fabian and I are old friends." Not only were they friends, but she had been the one to tell Fabian about me. It was the first time I'd seen them together, however, and I was struck by how alike they were. Not in looks—he had dark hair where hers was light, and he was considerably taller—but in character. They both exuded easy confidence.
"Why are you here today?" I pressed. "I thought we'd be alone."
"That's precisely why I came," she said. "You need a chaperone."
"I'm a married woman."
"Married women shouldn't be seen alone with a gentleman any more than unmarried ones. Tongues will wag."
"My husband isn't worried or he would be here."
"Perhaps it's not your reputation I'm worried about." She cast a small smile at Fabian, who'd yet to speak more than a greeting.
His gaze fixed hard on me. Was he avoiding looking at her? It was impossible to tell, although something troubled him. The small crease between his brows hadn't cleared.
"Louisa will not interrupt us," he said in a lilting French accent. "Please sit. I will bring my papers."
He left and Louisa poured tea. "Thank you," she said softly.
"For what?" I asked.
"For not objecting to me staying. Fabian said he would allow me to remain only if you didn't object."
I wanted to ask if she and Fabian were courting, but it wasn't my place and it wasn't relevant to my being there. She had no cause for jealousy, and nor did Matt. He knew it, but I wasn't quite sure Louisa did.
"Am I allowed to object?" I asked, rather snippily. "I didn't think you would care for my opinion."
She lifted the teacup to her lips. "Fabian cares."
"And you care about him."
She sipped.
I sipped too, and the moment for her to respond passed without a word.
"The last time we saw one another, we argued," I reminded her.
"My dear India, that wasn't an argument. Merely a minor differing of opinions. As I recall, you thought Mr. Hendry should be brought to justice for murdering that American cowboy, and I thought he could still make a valuable contribution to society without hurting anyone else."
"I still think Hendry should be brought to justice, but I know there isn't enough evidence to convict him. I also know Lord Coyle paid for lawyers to help Hendry because he is a magician."
"Not just any magician. He's the last of his line. If he dies without issue, paper magic dies with him." She set her teacup on the table, her movements dainty and graceful in a way mine would never be. "I have news of Mr. Hendry, as it happens. He married last week."
I almost spat out my tea. She'd warned me that Lord Coyle would find Hendry a wife, but I hadn't expected it to be so soon. Indeed, I hadn't been entirely sure Hendry would agree to it. He wasn't interested in women, let alone marriage, not even to appease society rules. He had no family to pressure him, and as long as his liaisons were conducted in secret, he wouldn't run afoul of the law.
"Coyle gave him no choice," she said, as if reading my mind. "He would have miraculously found some incriminating evidence and informed Scotland Yard if Mr. Hendry didn't agree to the marriage. As it happens, Hendry understood the importance of continuing his very special lineage."
"His bride is a magician?"
"Yes, but I don't know what type. Coyle wouldn't tell us."
"Us?"
"The other members of the Collector's Club. The Delanceys, Sir Charles Whittaker, among others."
Louisa had joined the club only recently, but I wasn't entirely sure if she was the sort of person they were looking for. While they wanted to collect and trade magical objects for personal enjoyment and profit, she wanted to bring magic into the public consciousness. I was still mystified that Lord Coyle had accepted her into their inner circle. On the other hand, their interests aligned with regard to Mr. Hendry. Neither wanted to see the paper magic lineage end.
Fabian returned clutching a large leather wallet. "Are you ready, Mrs. Glass?" he asked with a warm smile. "We shall work here, where there is tea and comfortable chairs."
"Here is fine, but if Louisa is to stay, I'd like to set some rules."
Louisa swiveled in the chair to face me fully. "There's no need for rules. I won't divulge anything to anyone."
I settled my gaze on Fabian, who frowned again, this time with curiosity. "She may sit somewhere she can see us but not hear us," I said. "She is not allowed to look at our notes or ask questions about our work."
"Come now, India," Louisa said with a delicate laugh. "You can trust me."
"If you are truly here merely as a chaperone, then these rules will not be unwelcome."
"Fabian—"
"Agreed." Fabian tugged on the bell pull to summon a servant. "Louisa, if you will be so good as to move to the landing. Sharp will make the area comfortable for you."
"The landing!" she cried.
"No rooms adjoin this one." He shrugged an apology as the footman entered. Fabian gave him instructions to set up a table and armchair outside the drawing room and to see that Lady Louisa's needs were met.
Louisa watched the proceedings in silence, her displeasure at being banished barely disguised. She did not object, however, and when the landing was set up with the chair angled so that she could see into the drawing room, she left with dignity.
"You can trust her," Fabian said to me as we settled on the sofa.
I glanced through the doorway to see Louisa watching me coolly. "I don't think she trusts me with you."
He grunted softly. "It is not what you think between us. We are simply friends."
I suspected she wished they were more. Whether Fabian wanted that too, I couldn't tell.
He opened the leather wallet and pulled out several pages with two neat columns of writing. The left column contained one word to a line in a language I didn't recognize, while the right column gave what appeared to be a definition of the corresponding word. That part was in English.
"Is this it?" I asked on a breath. "The language of magic?"
He nodded, smiling at my reaction.
I read down the left column, sounding out the words. When I reached the end, I asked, "Did I pronounce any of them correctly?"
"Some."
"How do you know? Are these words from your iron spell?"
"These four are." He pointed to the top four lines. "The others have been told to me by other magicians. They are simple words for simple spells." He removed the top sheet of paper to reveal more sheets beneath, all packed with handwritten words and descriptions. "These are more complicated ones. Some I learned from magicians, but most are from books I found in private libraries in Europe. I am not sure how to say some."
"The accent matters."
He nodded, and I suspected he already knew.
By the end of our two-hour meeting, I had an aching head, but Fabian no longer needed to correct my pronunciations. I'd also memorized some of the meanin
gs. We'd progressed through a mere three pages. There were a dozen more.
"You are tired," Fabian said.
I rubbed my temples. "A little."
He handed me the three pages. "Take these. They are your copies. I will test you tomorrow."
I groaned, and he laughed.
The butler entered with a purposeful stride and a worried look. Louisa followed him, glancing over her shoulder toward the landing where she'd been sitting. I'd forgotten she was there, she'd been so quiet.
"Mr. Charbonneau, sir." The butler swallowed heavily. "There are three men here."
"Who?" Fabian asked.
"They wouldn't give their names, sir. They claim to work for your…" He glanced at me then Louisa.
"My what?" Fabian prompted. "You may speak in front of my friends. I have nothing to hide."
The butler leaned forward and whispered, "Your creditor."
Fabian stiffened. "I will speak with them."
The butler's cheeks flushed, and he wouldn't meet Fabian's gaze. "They don't want to speak to you, sir. They want to repossess the furniture."
Fabian shook his head and muttered something under his breath in French.
"There's been a mistake," Louisa snapped at the hapless butler. "Send the incompetent fools away. If they refuse, use force."
The butler hesitated, clearly wanting directions from his employer but reluctant to ignore the lady's instructions outright. The result was inactivity and a series of rapid blinks.
Louisa clicked her tongue and marched off. "I'll do it myself."
"Louisa, no," Fabian barked. To the butler, he said, "Let the men take what they must."
"Fabian!" Louisa all but stamped her foot. "You can't give in to thuggery. If this isn't sorted out now, you'll have a devil of a time getting your furniture back."
"I do not think there has been a mistake," Fabian said heavily.
Louisa's sharp intake of breath punctured the silence but she had the presence of mind not to question him further. She glanced at the butler. Fabian nodded at him to go.
The butler still hesitated. "Sir, if I may be so bold…will the staff be paid?"
