by C. J. Archer
Duke and Cyclops exchanged glances. "You been acting like a coyote with a thorn in its paw ever since—"
"Duke," I snapped, shaking my head at him.
Duke closed his mouth and bowed his head. He was right, of course, and Willie had been acting oddly ever since her lover ended their arrangement. She only showed that kind of moroseness when she drank too much, however.
I gently pried the glass from her fingers when she went to refill it. "How about a game of poker?" I asked.
She wrinkled her nose. "Playing for matchsticks? No thanks. Ain't my idea of fun. How about we go fighting again? There's a private bout at the Kingsman's Arms tonight."
"Not me," Cyclops said.
"Afraid what Catherine Mason will think?"
"No," he said sullenly. "She already thinks I'm a thug."
"She doesn't," I said.
He crossed his arms and sank into the chair.
"I ain't fighting either," Duke said. "My ribs are still sore from the last time."
"You didn't protect your chest." Willie put up her fists, keeping her elbows together in front of her chest. "Like this."
"I ain't going," Duke said again.
"So what'll we do tonight? It's only eight."
Duke picked up Miss Glass's novel and opened it to the first page. "I'm reading."
Willie tipped her head back and laughed. "Don't strain an eyeball. I'm going to have me a good time."
"I'll go with her," Cyclops said, rising. "She shouldn't be on her own in this mood."
Duke sighed and closed the book. "I'll go too."
"Both of you can stay here," Matt said. "You've looked after her enough while I was ill. It's my turn now."
"She's a grown woman," I said. "She doesn't need a nursemaid."
The three of them just looked at me.
"On the other hand, it'll do her good to spend some time with you, Matt," I added.
Duke, Cyclops and I decided to play poker. We heard the front door open and close as Matt and Willie went out during our first round. The men were probably right; Willie did need company. She seemed irritable tonight, more so than usual.
"Did Willie receive mail today?" I asked Bristow when he brought in a pot of chocolate for us before he retired for the evening.
"No, miss," he said.
"That's the problem," Duke told me after Bristow left. "Willie ain't getting any response to her letters."
"She's still writing them?"
"Not for a few days now, but she's still hoping for a reply to her older ones." He studied his cards for a long time without discarding any. "If she found someone else, she might cheer up."
"You volunteering for the position?" Cyclops asked with a wry smile.
"No. We ain't never going to be together. I know that, now. We're better just being friends."
I set down my cards and touched Duke's arm. "I am sorry. I know how you feel about her."
"Don't be sorry. And what I felt for her is in the past. We've both changed since coming here." He finally discarded two cards.
Cyclops dealt him two replacements. "You think she'd want someone else so soon after that nurse?"
"Maybe. Problem is, I don't know what sort of person she likes anymore. It used to be simple."
Cyclops grunted. "That's because it used to be men."
"The pool's a lot bigger now." Duke removed three matchsticks from his pile and neatly laid them out, side by side.
"That's all you're betting?" Cyclops counted out eight matches from his own pile.
I also counted eight, and Duke matched the number. We all showed our hands. Duke's two pair beat us both. He chuckled as he raked in his winnings.
"You got to learn to bluff, India," he told me.
"I'm terrible at poker," I said. "Can we play a nice English game for once? Something that doesn't entirely come down to luck?"
"Poker ain't about luck."
"It's about who can lie best," Cyclops added. "You and me are too honest, India. That's why Willie's so good at it."
"Matt's good too, and he's no liar." Even as I said it, I knew how wrong that statement was. Matt was an excellent liar. He could get people he disliked eating out of his hand with just a few words and a smile. He'd infiltrated outlaw gangs back in America to gain information. Here in England, he'd pretended to be someone he wasn't on numerous occasions.
"Maybe one of us should speak to her nurse friend," Duke said, picking up the thread of Willie's relationships again. He and Cyclops looked at me.
"You want me to do it?" I asked.
"Even if you can't convince her to see Willie again," Duke went on, "you can see what kind of person she is. It'll help us find someone new."
I picked up the pot and filled each cup with the rich liquid chocolate. I breathed deeply, drawing the heady scent into my lungs. "I don't think it's a good idea to try and play matchmaker when there's a very good chance we'll be leaving London soon."
A gasp from the direction of the doorway had me spinning around in my chair, spilling chocolate on the table. Miss Glass stood there, her hand pressed to her stomach, her eyes huge.
"Leaving?" she asked, voice trembling. "Who…who is leaving?"
Chapter 8
I tried to steer Miss Glass to a nearby chair, but she shooed me away.
"Answer me, India," she demanded.
"No one is leaving yet," I said.
"Yet," she repeated. "I see."
I appealed to Duke and Cyclops but they suddenly became very interested in their cards. "Come and sit down. I'll pour you a brandy."
She accepted my assistance and the glass when I handed it to her, but she didn't sip. Her gaze became distant, and I worried she'd slipped into the past to take refuge against from the present.
"Is this because of the announcement in The Times?" she asked, proving me wrong.
"I think you should wait for Matt to return and speak to him."
She held my gaze. "I'm asking you, India."
I sat beside her on the sofa with a sigh. I couldn't lie to her, even though lying might be the best thing to do if her mind couldn't cope with the truth. "What I am about to tell you is told in absolute confidence. You cannot repeat it to anyone, especially not to your brother and sister-in-law. Do you promise not to tattle?"
"I am not a common gossip, India."
I sucked in a breath and summoned some patience. "Matt and I have decided to leave England if we cannot break the engagement with Patience any other way."
She lowered her head and studied the contents of the glass cradled in her lap. After a moment, she drank.
"There is still a chance Lord Cox will change his mind after spending time with her at tomorrow night's dinner," I said.
She shook her head. "He won't."
"Then we'll make arrangements to leave. Patience will be told in a letter, as gently as possible, but…I'm afraid she'll be deeply hurt."
Miss Glass set aside the glass. "I didn't think either of you were so cowardly."
"There is no other way."
"A gentleman ought to face his responsibilities—"
"Marrying Patience is not Matt's responsibility. Her happiness is not his responsibility."
"He is her cousin. He'll be head of the family when Richard dies."
"You are being unfair, Miss Glass. You place far too much on Matt's shoulders, and do not tell me that it's how things are done with your lot. Perhaps if Matt was brought up here, he would think differently, but he is not the sort of man who believes marrying a woman he doesn't love will make her happy. Even if we had never met, he wouldn't do it. They are completely unsuited to one another and would end up miserable. Patience will realize that, in time."
I waited for her to disagree but she did not. "What about me?" she asked weakly. "What will I do?"
"Well," I said carefully, "Matt could set you up with a new companion here, in this house, if you like."
"I don't want a new companion. I want you, India."
"Desp
ite everything? Despite our disagreement now?"
"We are not disagreeing."
I almost smiled. I wasn't entirely sure what we were doing either.
She blinked big eyes at me. "Where will you go?"
"We haven't discussed a destination. Perhaps America, or Europe. Matt has properties there, and I've always wanted to see the continent. Cyclops can't return to America," I said, looking over my shoulder at him.
Miss Glass plucked the brandy tumbler off the table and stared into it. "Patience might never recover from the rejection," she said, switching topic again. "It'll stain her for the rest of her life."
I buried my face in my hands. "I know," I mumbled into them. "But if we stay and Matt marries her, we will be unhappy for the rest of our lives." I scrubbed my hands down my face then looked at her again. "Your brother has forced this onto everyone. If you want to blame someone, blame him. Matt and I will not be manipulated by him. Or by anyone else."
I strode across the room, only to pause in the doorway. Miss Glass looked small and frail sitting on the sofa clutching the glass of brandy. She looked even smaller when Cyclops sat down beside her. I left them. Perhaps he could say something to convince her that Matt and I were doing the right thing.
Then perhaps he could convince me, because I suddenly thought leaving England was a very bad idea.
I informed Matt of my conversation with Miss Glass over breakfast. Cyclops and Duke joined us, but Miss Glass and Willie had not yet risen.
"Did she have one of her turns?" Matt asked as he sat next to me, a plate in one hand and coffee cup in the other.
"No, surprisingly. Was she all right after I left?" I asked Cyclops and Duke.
"She was fine," Cyclops said, adding more bacon to his already full plate. "She's worried about her future. She don't want to live with her brother again."
"She won't," Matt said.
"I suggested you would employ a companion for her," I told Matt. "But she didn't like that idea."
Duke pointed his butter knife at me. "That's because she wants you, India."
"I'd be happy to remain as her companion—if she agreed to Matt and me being together."
Matt placed his hand over my arm and squeezed. "She'll come around."
"Hopefully soon. It's not long until the wedding." A matter of three weeks, in fact, since they were keeping the same date that was set for Patience's wedding to Lord Cox.
Duke glanced at the door then leaned forward. "How'd it go with Willie last night?" he whispered loudly.
"Fine," Matt said. "Willie got drunk."
"Did she talk to you about…" He waved the butter knife around. "About that nurse?"
"We talked about her, among other things."
"Did she cry?"
Matt met his gaze. "I won't tell you what we discussed in confidence. What I can tell you is that Willie needs time before she falls in love again. So no matchmaking. Understand?"
Duke held the knife up in surrender. "Matchmaking's a woman's job."
I laughed. "That's not what you said last night."
He glared at me, and I smiled into my cup.
We went our separate ways after church, with Matt and I heading to Oscar's residence. He rented rooms on the second floor of an old house within walking distance of The Weekly Gazette's office on Lower Mire Lane. His landlady opened the door only wide enough to peek through and demanded we state our business before letting us in. I could only make out the middle two inches of her face through the gap.
"Is Oscar Barratt at home?" Matt asked.
"He might be or he might not be," she said.
"We're glad to see you're being cautious," I told her. "He must have warned you that his life is in danger."
"Who are you and what do you want?"
"My name is India Steele. This is Mr. Glass. We're friends of Mr. Barratt's."
She opened the door wider. "He told me you can enter if you came calling. He's upstairs with his brother."
We were about to head up the staircase when there was a loud crash above our heads. Matt ran up, taking the stairs three at a time. I picked up my skirts and raced after him.
"Stay here," I told the landlady. "Keep guarding the door."
By the time I reached Oscar's sitting room, Matt held a man from behind, rendering his arms useless. Oscar lay sprawled on the floor, the pieces of a broken table around him. He rubbed his jaw.
"Get up, coward," the man in Matt's grip snarled. "Get up and face me like a man."
I went to Oscar's side and assisted him. Once he was on his feet, I glanced at his assailant and gasped. It had to be Isaac Barratt, Oscar's brother. He was a little shorter than Oscar, and more solidly built, but had the same shade of dark brown hair and eyes. Although they both sported sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw, their features were arranged a little differently so that Oscar was the more handsome of the two.
"Are you all right?" I asked Oscar.
He stretched his neck and adjusted his tie. "Yes, thank you. You can let him go, Glass. He took me by surprise, this time, and my shoulder is not yet fully recovered, but I can usually best my brother."
"You make it sound like you do this sort of thing a lot," I said.
He glared at Isaac. "We used to, for fun."
Matt slowly released Isaac. As soon as he was completely free, Isaac lunged at Oscar. Matt grabbed him again and jerked him backward. Isaac lost his balance and would have fallen if Matt hadn't held onto him.
"It seems our discussion will have to take place like this," Matt said, not letting go.
Isaac held up his hands. "You can release me. I can see I won't get anywhere with Oscar's thug in the room."
"Thug?" Matt echoed. "And here I thought everyone took me for a gentleman, these days."
I glared at Matt. Now wasn't the time for jokes.
He released Isaac again and this time Isaac didn't try to hit his brother. Oscar, however, didn't relax his stance. I thought that wise, since Isaac looked as if the slightest provocation would entice him into another fit of violence.
Matt held out his hand to Isaac. "My name is Matthew Glass, and this is Miss Steele. I assume you're Isaac Barratt."
Isaac scanned Matt from head to toe then stretched his neck out of his collar in the same way Oscar had. He finally shook Matt's hand.
"I suppose there's no need to ask what this is about," Matt said.
"Actually, you'd be surprised," Oscar sneered.
I looked from one snarling brother to the other. "This isn't about you writing those articles and naming yourself as an ink magician?"
"Of course it is." Isaac snatched his coat off the back of an armchair near the window. We stood in a small sitting room. A door led to an adjoining bedchamber. The bed was unmade, with Oscar's half-eaten breakfast on the table beside it.
"Is that so?" Oscar said with icy calmness. "Then why the months of cold silences before I left, before I ever thought about revealing magic through the papers? Why turn our friends against me?"
"Can you not forget that? I won, Oscar."
Oscar snorted. "You don't really believe that. Not deep down. She chose me, but she married you because you inherited the business."
Isaac puffed out his chest. "She married me because I treat her better than you ever did."
"Is she still in love with me? Is that why you hate me?"
"I don't hate you. You're my brother." It sounded automatic, like something Isaac had repeated so many times it simply fell from his lips.
"You tried to punch me! Of course you hate me."
Isaac marched toward the door, but Matt blocked his path. "We need to speak to you both," Matt said.
Isaac sighed. "About what?"
"We're investigating the death of Mr. Baggley, the editor of The Weekly Gazette."
"Oscar tells me he was the intended target," Isaac said. "Do you believe that?"
"We haven't ruled anything out at this point."
"Am I a suspect?"
"Don't be
ridiculous," Oscar said. "You're my brother. No matter how much we fight, you're not going to try to kill me."
Isaac watched Oscar from beneath lowered lashes. Oscar swallowed and took a step back.
"We spoke to the man who came looking for you at the office on the day of the murder," Matt said to Oscar. "He claims he didn't return later and shoot Baggley."
"Of course he'd say that." Oscar inspected the damaged table. Finding its damaged legs unable to support it, he lay it down again. "He's hardly going to tell you the truth."
"He's a professor of history," I said. "He has a keen interest in the history of magic and wanted to offer his expertise for your articles."
Oscar looked up. "What's his name?"
"I'll tell you later."
Oscar's gaze slid to his brother. "Isaac isn't a killer. A fool, a crow and a…a word I won't use in front of a lady. But he's not a killer, India."
"Don't tell him the name in front of me," Isaac said. "I don't care to know it. If the professor dies in suspicious circumstances, I don't want to be the prime suspect in both murders."
"You're not the prime suspect in Baggley's."
"But I'm certainly a suspect, aren't I?" Isaac asked Matt.
Matt didn't respond.
"There was another man who came to see you that day and overheard the staff member tell the professor that you were working late," I said.
"Do you know who?" Oscar asked.
"We're going to question him now."
Isaac tried to step around Matt, but Matt moved to block the exit again. "You were seen arguing with your brother that day. Was it about the articles Oscar has been writing?"
"What do you think?" Isaac snarled. "He has no idea what harm he has caused me and my family back home. He swans around the city, doing as he pleases, and meanwhile we suffer the consequences. I lost customers because he told the whole bloody world that he's an ink magician, and now they all think I am too."
"You are," Oscar said lightly. "And don't exaggerate. The entire world doesn't know. The Gazette's a London paper."
Isaac bared his teeth but he thought better of lunging at his brother again, probably because Matt was standing very close. "There are people who want magicians to fade into the background, Oscar. A lot of them are very powerful, and they will do whatever it takes to protect their businesses. This is not a game. Lives are at stake, as you well know after the murder of your editor."
