by C. J. Archer
I certainly wasn't sure what I would do. Matt and I had agreed to use this meeting to convince Coyle that Hope wasn't a good match for him. We planned to list all her faults, the ways in which she'd manipulated us, and even tell him about her greedy parents. We wouldn't have to lie, simply show him what she was truly like.
But I forgot every word of our speech. The need to rid myself of the cloud hanging over my head in the form of Coyle's favor was strong. I could be free of him, of his influence, his menacing presence and the hold he had over me. All I had to do was say a few words to Hope.
I wouldn't be able to convince her to fall in love with Coyle, but I could try to convince her it was the right thing to do to marry him. That had been all he'd asked.
"India?" Matt prompted gently. "Do you need time to consider your answer?"
I nodded numbly.
He squeezed my shoulder. "She'll give you her answer in a week," he said to Coyle.
"Three days." Coyle hauled himself out of the chair. "No more."
"Let her suffer," Willie declared. "She deserves to be married to that fat, old tyrant."
We sat in the drawing room after dinner with Willie, Cyclops, Duke and Aunt Letitia. Having told them the reason for Lord Coyle's visit, we'd been able to talk of nothing else. So far, I was the only one who couldn't decide what to do. Everyone else thought I should encourage Hope and wipe my slate clean with Lord Coyle. I wasn't sure I could do that to her. It was a decision I'd have to live with for the rest of my life.
"She won't suffer too much," Duke said. "He lives in a big house, has a big estate, mountains of money, and a title. She'd be Lady Coyle and can have parties every night if she wants."
"But he's an ogre," I said, accepting a glass of sherry from Matt.
"An ogre who can give her everything she desires," Aunt Letitia said. "Not only that, he's old and seems quite unhealthy. He'll probably only last a few more years then she can be a rich widow while still having her youth."
Willie pointed at her. "Good thinking, Letty. I reckon I could put up with him 'til then if I had to."
"They got along well at the dinner that night," Cyclops added. "She didn't hate his company."
I looked to Matt, but he simply shrugged. The only time he'd offered an opinion was when he noted that it would mean I no longer had to owe Coyle a favor, and that was all he cared about.
"Let's stop talking about them." Willie stood, glass of whiskey raised. "Let's celebrate Cyclops being finally free of Charity."
We all raised our glasses in a toast.
"And to Catherine for her help," Cyclops added.
"I hope you thanked her good and proper," Duke said with a smirk.
Willie snickered. "Or are you going around there later tonight to thank her?"
"Willemina!" Aunt Letitia cried. "Unlike you, Cyclops does not have the morals of a trollop."
Willie put her hand up in defense. "I've got morals on plenty of things. Like friendship and family, honor and truth. But when it comes to my body, I'm free of society's constraints."
Aunt Letitia pulled a face. "Don't mention that word in my presence. It's vulgar."
"Body is a bad word?"
"It is in polite society." Aunt Letitia indicated all of us. "Which this is."
"Ain't nothing polite about them two." She pointed at Cyclops and Duke.
"It's an English thing," I told her.
"Nope. It ain't. If it were, Brockwell wouldn't want to see my body and—"
"Don't!" Matt cried. "I don't want to hear it."
Duke downed the remaining contents of his glass and got up. "I need another to drown out the image."
Willie chuckled and held out her empty glass. "Me too, please."
Two days later, I still hadn't decided what to do about Hope. Every time I thought I'd made up my mind, I changed it again. Working on my watch and the black marble clock didn't help as I'd hoped. Everyone continued to advise me to do as Coyle asked and encourage Hope. Everyone except Matt. Since his one and only comment on the matter, he'd left the decision up to me. It was maddening.
"You look like you need some fresh air," Matt said, perching on the edge of the table in the library where I was working. He picked up a tiny cog and held it to the light coming through the window. "You've been tinkering with this clock most of the day."
"It's supposed to clear my mind and allow me to have a better insight into my problems. But this problem won't be easily resolved. My head is telling me to encourage Hope in Coyle's direction, but my heart is telling me I can't do that to a young woman. No matter what she has done to us, she ought to be free to make her own decision about who she spends her life with."
He put down the spring and touched my chin. A smile ghosted his lips and warmed his eyes. "That's one of the reasons I love you. Your heart is kind."
I stood and circled my arms around his neck. He settled his hands on my hips, a hopeful look replacing the warm one in his eyes. "Perhaps it'll help me think if you kiss me," I said.
His smile spread. "That's strange because my mind goes completely blank when we kiss. Well, not completely blank. It does become more aware of you."
"Are you being vulgar and talking about my body?" I teased.
He pressed his smile to mine. "There's nothing vulgar about it. I love every curve, every dimple."
The movement at the door had us springing apart. Bristow cleared his throat.
"A letter arrived for you, Mrs. Glass. It's marked as urgent."
I checked the sender's name and my heart thudded to a halt. "It's from Lord Cox." I looked up at Matt. "Patience's husband. What can he possibly want?"
He read over my shoulder. He was so close that I heard his breath hitch as he read, and felt the quickening of his pulse. It matched mine.
"Oh god," I whispered. "He's blaming me."
The scrawl was tight, small and barely legible. It seemed to have been written in haste. No doubt Lord Cox was terrified. His older half-brother, who should have inherited their father's title and estate, had written to him, demanding Cox relinquish what was rightfully his.
The last I'd heard, the half-brother knew nothing of his father, and certainly didn't know he should have inherited. His mother had been poor, but her marriage to the previous Lord Cox was legal, although conducted in secret. He'd committed bigamy to marry someone deemed more worthy, meaning the current Lord Cox was illegitimate.
"He thinks I told his brother," I said weakly.
"The question is, who did tell him?"
Had Hope found out and followed through with her threat? She was clever and could have discovered the truth, but had there been enough time for her to inform the half-brother, and for him to then confront Cox, who then wrote to me? I didn't think so. That left only one possible suspect.
Coyle.
Available from 4th February 2020:
THE IMPOSTER’S INHERITANCE
The 9th Glass and Steele novel
* * *
India and Matt must uncover a thief who stole Lord Cox’s magical family heirloom.
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Also
by C.J. Archer
SERIES WITH 2 OR MORE BOOKS
After The Rift
Glass and Steele
The Ministry of Curiosities Series
The Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy
The 1st Freak House Trilogy
The 2nd Freak House Trilogy
The 3rd Freak House Trilogy
The Assassins Guild Series
Lord Hawkesbury's Players Series
The Witchblade Chronicles
SINGLE TITLES NOT IN A SERIES
Courting His Countess
Surrender
Redemption
The Mercenary's Price
About the Author
C.J. Archer has loved history and books for as long as she can remember and feels fortunate that she found a way to combine the two. She spent her early childhood in the dramatic beauty of outback Queensland, Australia, but now lives in suburban Melbourne with her husband, two children and a mischievous black & white cat named Coco.
Subscribe to C.J.'s newsletter through her website to be notified when she releases a new book, as well as get access to exclusive content and subscriber-only giveaways. Her website also contains up to date details on all her books: http://cjarcher.com She loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through email [email protected] or follow her on social media to get the latest updates on her books:
