The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele Book 1) (12 page)

I picked up my skirts and ran after them, not wanting to miss a single moment. Behind me, Lady Rycroft ordered Miss Glass to remain behind, but light footsteps followed nevertheless.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" Lord Rycroft struggled to pull himself free of Mr. Glass's grip.

"Not until you promise to send the letters. Every last one of them." Mr. Glass shoved him forward, and Lord Rycroft stumbled. He would have fallen if Mr. Glass hadn't still been holding his arm.

"Very well," Rycroft grumbled. "I don't care about the bloody letters anymore. Harry's dead. His letters have no meaning now."

I thought Mr. Glass would punch him, but instead he let his uncle go. He tugged on his sleeves and collar to straighten them, then held his elbow out to Miss Glass. She took it with a smile. He offered me his other arm, but I shook my head. A small triangular dent appeared between his brows.

"You've turned out to be even more of a disappointment than your father," Lord Rycroft said as we exited. "Hardly surprising considering the type of blood running through your veins.

"Pay him no mind," Miss Glass said, patting her nephew's arm. "He's simply jealous of Harry. Always has been and always will be."

The door slammed behind us.

Mr. Glass helped his aunt into the coach. I stood on the pavement and glanced up at Cyclops. His one eye watched me closely. How much of that exchange had he seen and heard?

"Everything all right, miss?" he asked.

I nodded and smiled, yet I didn't climb into the carriage. Mr. Glass held his hand out to me. "Miss Steele?"

I stared at his outstretched hand. It withered and closed upon my scrutiny. He dropped it to his side.

"You have something to say?" he said to me.

My things were at his house. All my worldly possessions were in one of his rooms. I could forgo the clothing, but not my tools or the daguerreotype of my parents. Surely he wouldn't harm me. I was no threat to him. Indeed, I was helping him. If he'd wanted to attack me, he could have done so last night in the kitchen. I made up my mind to go with him and do my best to simply perform the duty he asked of me. I abandoned the idea of notifying the police and collecting the reward. I valued my life more than money.

"No." I held out my hand for him and he took it. "I have nothing to say."

His fingers momentarily pressed mine, then he let me go. As he folded up the step, I could swear I heard him sigh.

* * *

W
illie was not pleased
to have another Englishwoman in the house. "You're a damn fool, Matt!" She paced across the entrance hall tiles and back again to wag her finger at her cousin. Some of her hair had come loose from its knot and she looked like a madwoman. I resolved to steer clear of her. Of the lot of them.

Miss Glass had no such qualms. She patted her nephew's cheek. "But a sweet fool. I knew you would be. You're your father's son, and so like my own dear mama too."

Willie snorted. Duke jabbed her in the ribs with his elbow and hissed at her to be quiet. She jabbed him back.

"She was always rescuing poor helpless creatures," Miss Glass went on.

"Helpless?" Willie echoed. "Ha!"

Miss Glass ignored her. "She used to wander in the woods on the estate, singing and talking to the birds."

"She sounds more like
you
," Willie grumbled, which she followed up with an "Ouch," when Duke once again elbowed her.

I did have to agree with her. The late Dowager Lady Rycroft sounded as mad as her daughter. But there was no harm in Miss Glass. Looking at her now, with a dreamy emptiness in her eyes, it was impossible to reconcile her with the woman we'd met on the doorstep, accusing Mr. Glass of house stealing. First appearances were definitely deceiving in some cases. Her nephew had something in common with her there, but little else.

"Willie, see that my aunt is made comfortable while Duke prepares a room for her," he said.

"Me?" Willie placed her hands on her hips. "Why me? Why can't she?" She nodded at me.

"Miss Steele is coming with me. We've got a lead on Chronos."

Willie's anger immediately dissolved. "Then what are you waiting for? Go!" She shooed us both, but I stood my ground.

"You don't need me," I told Mr. Glass. "Cyclops can find the Aged Christian Society on his own, and you don't need me to talk to Mr. Mirth."

He searched my face, and that small triangular dent at the bridge of his nose appeared again. "I would like the company."

"I'm sure my company's far too dull for someone like you." I turned to Duke. "I'll assist you with Miss Glass's room."

Duke and I headed up the stairs. The front door didn't close until we were on the first floor landing.

Miss Glass's room was situated next to mine. I opened the window to allow some of the crisp afternoon air in and to blow out the stale. Duke opened wardrobe doors to do the same, then we both searched high and low for linen.

"Must be downstairs," he said, giving up.

"I'll get it. I need to stretch my legs."

"Servant door's in the corridor wall opposite."

I found the hidden door easily enough and made my way quickly downstairs. The service area ran the length of the house below street level. The kitchen was the largest room, with a pantry and scullery off it. Signs of the evening meal preparations covered the central table, but the small dining and sitting rooms looked untouched, as did the butler's and housekeeper's offices. I found the linen press, but the sheets were stored at the top. I stepped on a lower shelf, but my weight tipped the entire cupboard forward.

I jumped down and managed to keep the whole thing from toppling on me, but a flat box slid off the very top and crashed to the floor. It missed me by mere inches.

I righted the press and bent to pick up the box. No, not a box, a case with brass clasps that had sprung open. The case's contents spilled onto the floor. I bent to gather up the sheets of paper, but froze.

A picture of a bushy browed man stared back at me, his face a map of scars. He looked about thirty or so, but it was difficult to tell from the picture. The word WANTED in bold, blocky type labeled the fellow an American outlaw. He was worth five hundred dollars, dead or alive. But it wasn't the amount or the face that had my heart stopping. It was the name.

Bill Johnson. Johnson was Willie's name. This man was a member of Mr. Glass's family. According to the poster, Bill Johnson was wanted for robbing a general store.

Each of the twelve sheets of paper was a poster showing different outlaws wanted for crimes committed in various American states and territories. Three bore the name Johnson. One was the Dark Rider, the man from the newspaper article I'd read. The sketch was the same. His face wasn't clearly shown thanks to the beard and hat. According to the poster, he was considered extremely dangerous.

My hands shook as I replaced the papers back in the case. I stood on a chair to return it to the top of the cupboard, then hurried back up the stairs with my arms full of clean linen.

Duke and I finished making up the bedroom, and I joined Miss Glass in the drawing room while he disappeared into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Miss Glass dozed by the window so I sat and read quietly. Or tried to. It wasn't easy with my mind wandering back to those posters of outlaws with their grizzly faces and cold eyes. And then there was the Dark Rider, the man no one had seen properly. His value had been the highest of the lot.

Mr. Glass returned earlier than I expected. When I heard the front door, I sat forward on the chair, my heart in my throat; not from apprehension at seeing him again but because I was eager to find out what he'd learned from Mr. Mirth. That surprised me. I ought to be more afraid of him.

Nobody met him at the door and he came immediately to the drawing room. He glanced at his aunt's sleeping form then at me. I arched my brows and he shook his head. At my frown, he indicated I should follow him back out to the entrance hall. I hesitated then went after him.

Duke and Willie emerged from the rear of the house so I hung back near the staircase. "Well?" Willie asked. "What did Mirth say?"

"He wasn't there," Mr. Glass said heavily.

"Not there?" Duke said. "Where is he?"

"He left a few days ago. He simply walked out of the facility and nobody knows where he went."

"He left!" Willie shouted.

Mr. Glass shushed her with a glance back at the drawing room.

Willie made a rude gesture in the same direction. "He can't just leave. Isn't that the point of that place? The inmates are too old to care for themselves?"

"They're not inmates," Mr. Glass said. "It's a charitable institution for the aged, and there's no obligation for anyone to remain. If the patient feels well enough to leave, or a family member collects them, they can go."

"God damn," Willie muttered. "I hate this country."

"It's hardly England's fault," Mr. Glass told her.

Willie folded her arms and turned away. Her spine curved and she lowered her head.

"Don't you go all teary on me." Mr. Glass rested a hand on her shoulder.

She shook it off then suddenly turned and threw herself into his arms. Fortunately he was strong enough to catch her. If it had been me, I would have landed on my rear beneath her.

He held her a moment, until she composed herself and stepped back. "Enough of this sentimental claptrap," she declared. "We'll find this Mirth fellow." She suddenly looked at me. Despite her watery eyes, the gaze was as sharp as a blade. "She'll find him." She marched over to me and stabbed a finger into my shoulder. "You'd better, Miss Steele. If you don't, I'll…make you regret it."

They were just words. Easy enough to say, difficult to believe. But Willie's anger wasn't something I wanted to stoke.

"Willie," Mr. Glass chided.

"Goddamn it, woman!" Duke marched over and grabbed Willie by the elbow. "You're a damn fool. Threatening her won't help."

"Paying her isn't doing anything!" Willie pulled free then ran up the stairs, taking two at a time.

Duke shook his head and left too. Mr. Glass gave me a flat smile. "My apologies for my cousin's behavior. She can get emotional at times."

"Over a watchmaker, no less."

"It's a special watch."

"So you keep saying." I waited for him to tell me about his special rejuvenating watch, but he didn't. "Will we resume our search this afternoon then?"

He leaned back against the newel post. "It's late. We'll resume tomorrow." His gaze wandered past my shoulder.

"Harry, dearest, you're back," Miss Glass said. "How was your journey?"

Mr. Glass sighed. "I'm Matthew, not Harry. Have you settled in, Aunt?"

"I'm quite settled, thank you. I do think I'm going to like it here, despite your strange cousin and that other gruff fellow. At least I have Miss Steele as a companion."

"Good," he said, once again glancing at me. "But it's only for a few days. I'll be returning to America on Tuesday."

She waved her hand and headed up the stairs. "Come, Miss Steele, and play the piano for me. This house needs music."

I went to follow her, but Mr. Glass stopped me with a hand on my arm. "She likes you, Miss Steele," he murmured, his face close to mine. "Try to make her see that this arrangement is only temporary."

"I'll do my best. Perhaps it will help if she knew what was to become of her after you leave. Her brother has forbidden her to return to his house."

"She's not going back there," he growled low. "Not while I live."

I nodded in agreement. "But she does need to go somewhere."

* * *

A
loud bang
woke me up. It was very dark, and I could only make out outlines of the furniture in my room. Someone shouted from the depths of the house, too far away to make out their words. I jumped out of bed, hitting my knee on the nightstand, and fumbled for the candlestick and matches.

Another bang echoed through the house, shaking the walls and setting my heart pounding. It wasn't just any bang; it was a gunshot.

Then Miss Glass screamed.

I
abandoned
my attempts to light the candle and ran from the room. My shoulder smacked into the doorframe, but I ignored the pain and raced to Miss Glass's room. The house was filled with shouts and footsteps, and the sound of my own heartbeat echoed in my ears.

"Miss Glass!" I didn't wait for a response, just pushed open her bedroom door.

She screamed again, but quieted when I assured her it was only me. I could just make out her shape sitting up in bed, the covers pulled to her chin. "Miss Steele! Thank goodness. What was that noise?"

"A gunshot, I think." I sat on the bed and clasped her shoulders. She shook violently. "Are you all right?"

"I…I think so?"

"Aunt Letitia!" Mr. Glass burst into the room. Even in the dark, he filled the space with his presence. "Miss Steele? I heard screaming."

"That was me," Miss Glass said, crisply. "Matthew, someone is shooting inside the house!"

He crouched by the bed near where I sat. He wore only trousers, and was entirely naked from the waist up. I swallowed and tried not to stare, but I failed miserably. Even in the dark, I could see the straps of muscle across his shoulders and down his arms. Muscles like that didn't appear on the bodies of idle gentlemen. They came from hard work. Or fighting. I tried to lean forward to see his chest.

He caught me and righted me. "Miss Steele? What's wrong?" His hands explored my arms, up to my shoulders and neck. They were warm and strong as they searched me for injuries. "Are you hurt?"

I drew in a breath to steady my jangling nerves. "I, er, that is, we're unharmed. What's happening?"

"I don't yet know." He let me go, stood, and strode out the door, leaving me with a heart beating harder than ever and nerves stretched to their limit. My skin felt warm where he'd touched me.

I stood too.

"Don't go out there." Miss Glass caught my hand. "Wait for Matthew to return."

The shouting had ended, and calm voices filtered to us through the still house. "The danger, if there was one, seems to have passed. I'll return in a moment."

I lit a candle and headed downstairs. Raised voices filtered up from the service rooms, so I made my way to the kitchen. Willie's voice reached me before I saw her. "
You
didn't lock up. It ain't my fault."

"I left the door open for you!" Duke snapped. "Did you take a key? No, you did not," he answered for her. "If you hadn't gone out, Willie, this wouldn't have happened."

"If I hadn't shot at him, you would all be dead in your beds! I scared him off, good and proper."

"You almost committed murder on English soil," Mr. Glass growled.

"What was I supposed to do? Wait for him to shoot me first?"

"Was he armed?" Cyclops asked.

"How should I know?" Willie said with a pout in her voice. "It was dark."

Nobody had a response to that, and I deemed it a good time to make my presence known. "Is anyone hurt?" I asked, stepping into the kitchen. A hissing gas lamp on the table illuminated their faces and the gun in Willie's hand. It also illuminated Mr. Glass's chest. I kept my gaze averted with some difficulty.

"We're all unharmed," he said.

"How long have you been standing there?" Willie asked.

"Long enough to hear there was an intruder," I said. "What did he want?"

I counted three whole seconds before anyone responded. "Money, perhaps," Mr. Glass said. "Silver."

"I didn't stop to chat with him." Willie thrust the gun into the waistband of her trousers. The flap of her jacket hid it from view. Did she go out with the gun every night? Did she wear it during the day around the house?

I swallowed heavily. "Did you hit him?"

"Would have, if it weren't so dark."

"And he wasn't so fast," Duke sneered. "Or it wasn't a Thursday in London and you hadn't eaten beef for dinner. You missed, One Shot Willie. You've lost your touch."

"Shut your mouth," Willie snapped. "You're lucky I came home when I did."

I shivered, suddenly aware that I was standing in the kitchen in nothing more than a nightgown. "Surely not. Burglary is one thing, but murder is entirely another. He wouldn't have harmed any of us."

The heavy silence blanketed us until Cyclops lifted it with a hearty, "I'm going back to bed." Like Mr. Glass, he wore no shirt. It wasn't until he walked off that I saw the scars crossing his back. There was at least a dozen, all old. "Goodnight, Miss Steele. Hope you can sleep after this ruckus."

"Goodnight, Cyclops."

"We should all return to bed," Mr. Glass said, dragging his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. "Duke, make sure
all
the doors are secure now."

Duke didn't respond. He was too busy staring at my chest. It would seem I wasn't the only one who'd become aware that I wore only a nightgown. Thank goodness the lamp didn't cast enough light to reach my hot face or show the outline of my figure through the thin cotton. At least, I hoped not.

Willie smacked Duke's arm. He cleared his throat. "Right. Doors and locks. Doing it now."

He hurried off, taking the lamp with him, leaving my candle as our only light.

"Goodnight, Willie," Mr. Glass said.

"I'm not leaving you here alone with her," Willie said, folding her arms.

"Miss Steele is perfectly safe with me."

"It's not her I'm worried about."

He gave her a little shove and a stern, "Goodnight, Willie."

She grunted and stormed off.

"I ought to return to bed too," I said, edging away. "I'll look in on your aunt as I pass."

"Take her a cup of chocolate." He plucked a copper pot off its hook and disappeared into the pantry. He reappeared moments later with the pot half full of milk and a jar of honey in hand. He set them down and fetched a bag of sugar, chocolate and implements.

"You know how to make it?" I asked.

He laughed. It was so odd hearing the sound after such a trying day and evening. "Of course. I'll make you some."

I settled on the stool by the table and tried not to watch him as he stoked the fire in the stove to life, but I gave up. It was impossible. He was right there in front of me. No woman could look away when she was presented with such a fine masculine specimen. I'd never seen so many muscles before. Never seen a half naked man before. It was quite an, er, education. He was completely unconcerned about the damage his lack of attire could do to my virtue. Perhaps Americans weren't as troubled by propriety as we British. If that were the case, there was no need to feel guilty for staring.

"I want to apologize for my cousin's behavior," he said dripping a dollop of honey into the milk. "Again."

"She's very loyal to you."

He spooned in some sugar and stirred the contents. "Willie's got a good heart. It's difficult to find beneath all those prickles, but it's there. We've been through a lot together, and she worries about me as much as I worry about her."

"Why does she need to worry about you? You seem quite capable of taking care of yourself." All those muscles explained how he'd fought off those three brutes. Clearly he knew how to use them effectively. "Aside from your occasional bouts of illness, that is."

His stirring slowed, his attention focused on the task. When the milk began to simmer, he shaved off flakes of chocolate into the pot with a knife and whisked it into a froth.

I fetched cups and a chocolate pot from a shelf. He poured the chocolate into two cups and the pot. The pot and a spare cup he set aside, and handed one of the full cups to me. He indicated I should sit opposite on the stool. I did and looked up. His cheeks flushed and his gaze plunged to his cup.

I crossed my arms over my chest, hoping I didn't push up my bust more. "I know why you asked me to remain."

"I very much doubt that you do, Miss Steele." He swallowed loudly and rubbed a hand over his face. I suspected he was tired, but at least he didn't look exhausted to the point of illness.

"Then why?"

He set his cup down on the table and placed his palms flat on either side of it. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I asked you to stay back because I need to talk to you." Finally, he would explain about his mysterious illness and the watch! "I think it's best if you leave tomorrow."

"Pardon?"

"I'm severing our arrangement."

No. He wouldn't. Surely he knew how much I needed employment, and somewhere to live for a few days. Surely he saw that I had nothing and nowhere to go. "But…you can't! You've paid me in advance."

"Keep the money. But you can't stay here. It's too dangerous."

My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. "Because of one intruder?"

He continued to avoid looking at me.

"It wasn't merely a burglar, was it?" I prompted.

"You can go back to the Masons," he said quickly. "Or secure new lodgings tomorrow. You'll find other employment soon enough too, I'm certain of it. You're a remarkable woman and—"

I stood abruptly. The stool's feet scraped on the flagstone floor. He finally met my gaze, but I found I could no longer meet his. It was all I could do to hold myself together and not burst into tears at the hopelessness of it all, at the heavy weight once again settling on my shoulders, trying to push me down into the floor.

He stood too. "Say something, Miss Steele. You can shout if you like. In fact, I wish you would."

"What of your aunt?"

He blinked. "You have no home to go to, yet you're worried about Aunt Letitia?"

"I am employable, Mr. Glass. I haven't had much luck yet, but it will turn soon. There must be a shopkeeper in London in need of an assistant. But your aunt is vulnerable. I doubt she can look after herself properly. I wouldn't want her to return to her brother's house when you leave."

"She won't."

"Does she have other relatives? Friends?"

"None that I know of." He pressed his knuckles on the table and lowered his head between his shoulders. I waited, but I wasn't really sure what for. I knew I ought to take Miss Glass her chocolate, but something kept me rooted to the spot. "Damn it!" he finally growled. "You can't stay here, Miss Steele. Don't you understand? It's enough that I have the welfare of Cyclops, Willie and Duke on my hands. They can at least defend themselves."

"Tell me about the intruder."

"It's better for you if you don't know too much."

"You're deciding what's best for me now?"

"I'm deciding what's safest for you, yes."

"I do wish you wouldn't treat me like a child or a simpleton. I'm neither."

"I'm very aware of that." His dark lashes lifted, casting shadows over his eyes as he watched me for a long time.

I bore it with what I hoped was defiance, while everything inside me wanted to shrivel up. I was about to be cast out on my own—again—without employment or accommodation. Living with outlaws suddenly seemed the lesser of two evils. I wanted to stay, very much. "Please don't do this," I said simply.

"Damn," he said on a sigh. "You're very persuasive."

I was?

"Do you still sleep with that knife?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Continue to do so. You can stay until Tuesday. My aunt too. I'll consider what to do with her in the meantime." He picked up our empty cups and stalked into the scullery. "Goodnight, Miss Steele."

"Goodnight, Mr. Glass." I left the kitchen with the chocolate pot and cup. My heart was still hammering by the time I reached Miss Glass's room.

* * *

M
r. Glass
, Duke, Willie and Cyclops went out after breakfast, and it had nothing to do with finding Mr. Mirth, so I was informed. They wouldn't tell me where they were going, but I suspected it concerned the intruder Willie had shot at.

I spent the morning getting to know Miss Glass better as two charwomen worked in the other rooms. Indeed, I found her eager to discuss her family, and it took little prompting from me to discover her father had been just as horrid as her older brother. The free-spirited and kind-hearted Harry, the youngest of three siblings, had left the country as soon as he reached his majority.

"He asked me to go with him," she said with a sad smile. "He pleaded with me, in fact. Mama had passed by that time, and Harry was everything to me. I gave it some serious thought, but decided to remain here. Having his spinster sister trail along would have stifled him. He needed to be free more than he needed to breathe. Father and Richard had been so cruel, always telling him he was worthless. As the younger brother, he inherited nothing and had to find his own way in the world. Father wanted him to become a lawyer, but working in an office would have slowly killed Harry's spirit. So he escaped and never came back."

"Was your father angry?"

"Terribly. He flew into a rage after he discovered Harry had left. I was the only one he told, you see, and I kept the secret until after his ship departed."

"Where did Harry go?"

"Everywhere. He traveled to exotic lands—Egypt, Turkey, Russia, all over the Orient, Canada and America. He had a small annuity from our mother that funded his travels. She left him this house too, but he never let it out. He may have worked, but his letters never mentioned such things."