The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele Book 1) (8 page)

That had us both laughing until we collapsed on the bed, out of breath.

Once recovered, we headed back down to the parlor with my valise. I touched Catherine's hand before we went in, wanting some sort of reassurance from a person I knew and trusted. Despite our laughter, I was anxious about staying in Mr. Glass's house. He and the other members of his household were nothing like us. They were bold and brash, and they talked about holsters and…pups. They could be outlaws. I could be walking into something too deep to dig myself out of.

Catherine squeezed my hand in sympathy, although she didn't know the real reason behind my anxiety. She must think me nervous about the possibility of ravishment.

Catherine and her parents walked us to the door. I hugged each of them in turn and promised to see them again soon. All except Mr. Mason hugged me enthusiastically. "One other thing," I said before we left. "Has Mr. Abercrombie been here asking after me?"

"Miss Steele, there's no need," Mr. Glass said with a hard glare and shake of his head. "It'll be taken care of by the morning."

"Abercrombie?" Mr. Mason said. "No. Why?"

"It's of no consequence," Mr. Glass cut in.

"Actually, it is," I said. "He tried to have me arrested for theft."

"Good lord!" Mrs. Mason pressed her apron hem to her chin. "That's awful."

I briefly explained the event and assured them I hadn't stolen anything from him. "I just wanted you to know from me before you heard it from someone else." Although Mr. Glass had assured me everything would be taken care of, I couldn't see how. I needed to protect myself, and that meant involving the Masons.

"Of course, of course." Mr. Mason nodded excessively, which only set his jowls off like a bowl of jelly. He looked quite worried, and that had me worried.

"If Abercrombie does come here looking for you, we won't tell him where you've gone," his wife said.

I smiled at her and tried to catch her husband's eye but he wasn't looking at me. "Thank you."

Mr. Glass stored my valise at the back of the coach while I climbed inside. He climbed in after me and the coach lurched forward.

"It wasn't necessary to mention the incident with Abercrombie," he said. "I
will
see that he doesn't trouble you again."

"I don't see how you can do that. Perhaps if you shared how you would see to it, I might have more faith."

He plucked off his gloves, finger by finger. "I have some influence in this city."

"But you've never been here before!"

"That's irrelevant."

I clicked my tongue. It was easier to get answers from statues. "Forgive my doubt, Mr. Glass, but I find it difficult to trust someone who doesn't give satisfactory explanations."

His brow crinkled. His gaze locked with mine. "I hope that's not true, Miss Steele." His low, deep voice rumbled from his chest. "I don't want you to feel unsafe in my home."

"Oh." I waved off his concern. "That's another matter entirely."

"I know Willie, Duke and Cyclops are…different to you English folk, but you have my word that they won't harm you."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Unless you cross them."

I went very still. Did he know that I suspected him? Was he warning me not to act on my suspicions?

He smiled, and I didn't detect any falseness in it; not that I was an expert at reading people. Look at how I'd been taken in by Eddie.

We arrived back at Mr. Glass’s Mayfair home and I was glad to see that my room was ready. It was spacious and decorated in wallpaper of pink climbing roses with matching cushions on the bed. It commanded a pretty view over the street, way down below. I'd never been up so high, and looking out the window made me feel uneasy. I stepped back but kept it open for the air. The room, like many of the others, smelled stale. It would seem the house had been shut up for a long time before Mr. Glass's arrival.

Someone had laid my dress on the bed so I emptied my reticule of the buttons. I found my sewing kit in my valise, but quickly ran out of thread. With a deep breath to fortify my nerves, I left the room to go in search of Willie. I hoped she wouldn't accuse me of spying again if she came across me outside my room.

I headed down a flight of stairs to her suite, but no one answered my knock. She was probably in the kitchen, preparing the evening meal, or helping Duke. I gazed up the corridor toward Mr. Glass's door, but decided against knocking. He might be resting.

I made my way down the winding staircase to the ground floor and peeked into rooms. All empty. The kitchen was below ground level, and I finally found the door leading to the service stairs hidden in a wall near the back of the house. Voices filtered up to me, first Willie's then Mr. Glass's. I paused on the last step upon hearing Willie's stinging words.

"I don't like her," she said. "She's a hoity toity miss who thinks she's better than all of us."

"You're being childish," Mr. Glass chided. "Miss Steele isn't like that at all."

Willie snorted. "Why'd you bring her
here,
anyway? You could have paid for lodgings somewhere else. She didn't have to come under
our
roof."

"I agree with Willie," said Duke. "Letting the Steele woman live here is dangerous. She might see something she shouldn't."

"Or Matt might do something
he
shouldn't," said Cyclops with a deep chuckle.

"Shut your trap, Cyclops," Willie snapped. "Matt ain't interested in the likes of her. What's she got to offer him that other ladies don't?"

Cyclops's low chuckle filtered out to me. I wished I could see the others' reactions, particularly Mr. Glass's.

"I wanted her here for a reason," Mr. Glass said. "Not that reason," he added quickly. "There's something about her. I can feel it. Or, rather, the device can."

"The device can?" Duke echoed.

"When she's nearby, the watch becomes warmer. I can feel it through my shirt."

"That's ridiculous," Willie said. "It can't do that."

"How would you know?" Duke sneered. "But Matt…is that all? Does it glow or something?"

"No, but I'm convinced she's more than a simple watchmaker's daughter. She
must
be, or why would all the other watchmakers in the city be afraid of her?"

Afraid of me? That was overstating it a little. They did seem unnaturally wary of me, however, for reasons I couldn't fathom. Even Mr. Mason. The only one who treated me as he'd always done was Mr. Healy.

"She's staying here," Mr. Glass announced, "because she's of use to me. So be nice.
All
of you, Willie."

Was that why he was being gentlemanly to me? Was that why he'd saved me from Mr. Abercrombie's clutches? Because he suspected I was useful to him? While I'd never expected to become friends with him, I had thought we shared an amiable connection. Now, I wasn't sure what I felt or whether I could trust his pleasant manner. It sounded like it was all an act to lull me into trusting him.

But to what end, I didn't know. I had nothing worth stealing and there was certainly nothing special about me, no matter what he thought. Nothing special at all.

D
inner was an unusual affair
. Duke had prepared sole, followed by roasted pork, potatoes, salads, and finishing with jelly. The unusual part was that he and Cyclops dined with Mr. Glass, Willie and myself in the dining room instead of the servants' quarters.

"This is delicious, Duke," I said, casting him a smile.

His cheeks flushed and he concentrated on his plate of food. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"Should be," Willie said, stabbing a slice of pork with her fork. "He spent all afternoon on it to impress you."

Duke rolled his eyes. "It takes all afternoon to prepare something like this. Not that you would know. You burn everything."

"Where did you learn?" I asked quickly before the conversation descended into an argument between them.

"Here and there." He stuffed his mouth full of potato. I gathered that meant he didn't want to answer any more questions about his cooking.

"Cyclops, did you collect our tickets?" Mr. Glass asked his coachman.

"Aye, after I brought you back here, I went to the booking office," Cyclops said.

"Finally!" Willie licked pork grease off her lower lip. "I was beginning to think we were going to stay in this miserable country forever. When are we going home?"

"Next Tuesday." Cyclops's one clear eye focused on Mr. Glass. "As long as all goes well and we find him."

"We will," Mr. Glass said, cheerfully. "Won't we, Miss Steele?"

"I, er, hope so," I said. Unless the watchmaker was dead, or living elsewhere. The more I thought about all the reasons why he wouldn't be in London, the more doubtful of success I became. He could be anywhere in the world. "But what happens if we don't find him in a week? Will you still return to America?"

The resulting silence was so complete that even chewing ceased. Duke, Willie and Cyclops all glanced at Mr. Glass. Mr. Glass studied his wine but did not drink.

"You'll find him, Miss Steele." Willie pointed her knife at me. "Or else."

"Willie," Mr. Glass said with effort. "If we fail to find the watchmaker, it won't be Miss Steele's fault."

Willie sniffed then gulped down the contents of her wineglass. "Just find him," she growled, setting the glass down hard. "You can't afford not to."

Again, nobody spoke, and again Mr. Glass pretended not to notice everyone staring at him. Cyclops looked worried, Willie seemed angry, but Duke's reaction interested me most. His eyes moistened. When he saw me watching, he quickly lowered his head, and shoveled another potato into his mouth.

"Goodness me," I said, brightly. "You all seem rather distressed by the thought of not finding the watchmaker." I hoped I wasn't stirring a bees nest, but I would seem more suspicious to them if I
didn't
say something at this juncture. "Your watch must be very special indeed if only one man in the world can fix it, and the thought of not finding him elicits such concern."

"It is," Mr. Glass said with a flat smile. "Now, Miss Steele, please tell us about yourself."

His sudden change of topic didn't surprise me, but turning it on to me did. "There's nothing to tell. I'm quite dull."

"I find that hard to believe. The watch and clock business here in London seems lively. Everyone seems to know everyone else. Is that how your parents met? Was your mother from a watchmaking family?"

Ah, now I understood. He was fishing for information about my other grandfather, in the hope he might be the watchmaker he sought. It would seem I was only of interest to Mr. Glass in relation to his glowing watch. It stung a little to realize that, but I shouldn't have been surprised. My life
was
dull, and so was I, by extension. "My mother's father was a confectioner. He had a shop near where my father lived growing up. Father bought sweets every day just so he could speak to her."

Mr. Glass smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but Willie got in first. "Delightful," she said in a dreadful attempt at an English accent. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going out." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, plucked the napkin off her lap, and stood.

"Is that wise, Willie?" Mr. Glass asked darkly.

"Nope, but being wise is for virgins and dullards." She tossed me a smile.

"It's also for the living." I smiled back at her. "And those who wish to remain so. Enjoy your evening, Willie."

Instead of looking offended, Willie's grin broadened. She squared up to face me. "Care to join me, Miss Steele? I could teach you how to win at poker."

"No," Mr. Glass snapped before I got a chance to speak. "Miss Steele does not care to join you for poker. Nor should you be out playing all night. It's not safe, and it's not seemly. Things are different here in England."

She snorted. "That's true. But one thing is the same, Matt—I am a free woman who can do as she pleases. Goodnight, all. Enjoy your evening of reading and polite conversation. I'm off to win me some English money."

"If you're not back by dawn, I'm coming to fetch you," Mr. Glass called after her.

She gave him a rude hand gesture that I'd only ever seen youths give to constables behind their backs.

"Forgive me, Miss Steele," he said once Willie was out of earshot. "I shouldn't have answered for you."

Yet it had seemed like a natural thing for him to do. Perhaps he was used to giving orders and having them obeyed. Except by Willie.

"I don't have to watch my cousin back home," he said. "She plays poker with a group of regulars, most nights. None would dare harm her."

"Why?"

His mouth worked, but no words came out.

Cyclops answered for him. "They're scared of Matt."

I blanched. I'd expected to hear that they were scared of Willie, not her rather charming cousin. I tried to think of something to say, but in the end, I simply kept silent.

Mr. Glass laughed and waved off Cyclops's answer. Cyclops scowled in return. "I'm worried Willie's smart mouth will get her into trouble," Mr. Glass told me.

"She seems like the sort who can get herself
out
of trouble well enough," I said.

"You should let her hear you say that. She'd like you more for it." He sighed and passed a hand over his eyes. "The class of men she's playing against here are more cunning than the cowboys she's used to. They act all charming and gentlemanly, but they're not. They're devious."

I wondered if he was speaking from direct experience or observation only. He hadn't been on our shores long, but he'd clearly come into contact with charming gentlemen who turned out to be devious.

The similarity to himself struck me like a blow. He may not be English, but he was acting the part of a gentleman around me. The more I got to know him, the more I suspected it was all a charade. Few open, innocent gentlemen could thrash three armed thugs, or instill fear in American cowboys. An outlaw, on the other hand, could.

"Willie'll be fine," Duke said to Mr. Glass. "If she gets arrested, we'll just crack her out of jail like we did that time in Tombstone."

I gasped. "You broke her out of jail? Or a cemetery?"

"Holding cell," Cyclops said with a shrug. "Tombstone is a town."

"Strange name for a town."

"Willie was innocent," Duke assured me.

Good lord. I felt as if I'd stepped into a sensation novel.

"Apologies, Miss Steele. I see we've alarmed you," Mr. Glass said.

"Not at all. I'm not easily alarmed."

"So I've seen," he said with a hint of admiration and a warm smile. "Few women would have had the presence of mind to trip a man up when she was cornered. Indeed, most would have spent the rest of the day recovering from the ordeal you endured this morning."

"I suppose." I couldn't look at him. His praise was too much, and that intense look in his eyes was back again, as if he were reliving the moment he'd parted my corset and laid his hands on my bare skin.

"A brave lady," Cyclops said, raising his glass in salute. "You'd be well suited to the Wild West, Miss Steele."

"Thank you, but it sounds a little too wild for my tastes."

Mr. Glass rose. "Perhaps I should go with Willie."

"No," both Cyclops and Duke said. They both glanced at me.

"Check the time." Duke nodded at the broken clock on the mantel. The hands hadn't moved all night. "It's late. Isn't it, Cyclops?"

"Too late for someone who's been unwell," Cyclops agreed.

Mr. Glass came around the table and held his hand out to me. I took it and rose. "I have to go out anyway."

"Why?" Duke asked.

"To make sure Abercrombie doesn't pursue his foolish claim of theft. Miss Steele is innocent, and I intend to make sure nothing comes of his accusation."

I gaped at him, but he merely smiled. His thumb stroked my hand in a most intimate fashion, sending my heart into little somersaults in my chest. I decided against protesting yet again over his need to do anything about Abercrombie. It was in my best interests to let him think that I trusted him.

"May I take that clock to my rooms tonight?" I asked instead. "I'd like to try and fix it."

"Of course." He plucked it off the mantel and handed it to me. "I wound it, but it still refuses to work."

I returned to my room with the clock and pulled out the pieces of the mechanism, laying each of them carefully on the table. I fished out the toolkit from my valise and cleaned each wheel, lever, and pin with a cloth. I took my time, finding comfort in the soothing task that came so naturally to me. I'd been cleaning mechanisms for as long as I could remember. After nearly an hour, I discovered the culprit—one of the springs had snapped. The clock couldn't be fixed until a spare had been purchased.

I set the pieces aside and contemplated what to do next. With Willie and Mr. Glass out, and Cyclops most likely driving him, I decided to go about searching for proof that Mr. Glass was the outlaw mentioned in that newspaper article. If I wanted the reward, I must earn it before anyone else did. Besides, I also wanted a knife.

Candlestick in hand, I headed downstairs, not quietly or suspiciously but as though I had need of a cup of tea. I found Duke snoring loudly on the sofa in the drawing room, his boots off and his arms across his chest. I continued on to the kitchen and removed a knife from the drawer. I'd just slipped it up my sleeve when someone cleared their throat behind me.

I spun round, my gasp caught in my chest. Mr. Glass stood in the doorway, one shoulder against the doorframe, arms and ankles crossed. He looked as if he'd been there for some time.

"You're back," I said lamely.

"I am." His face was in shadow, but I could just make out the curve of his lips as he smiled. It was not a warm smile designed to reassure me. It was roguish and knowing, as if he was warning me that he knew what I was up to.

I swallowed hard. "Did you speak with Abercrombie?"

He pushed off from the doorframe and prowled into the kitchen. "I never said I was going to speak with him."

"Oh." I backed away as he came closer. His smile widened ever so slightly. "What about Willie?"

"She can take care of herself for one night. I wanted to come straight home."

He kept advancing, and I continued to back away from him, although my retreat was pointless. There were no exits behind me.

"Oh," I said again. My voice sounded breathy, girlish. "I was about to put on some tea," I said, more boldly. "Would you like a cup?"

"No, thank you."

I felt the warmth of the range behind me and stopped. I needed to face up to this man and show him I wasn't afraid, or he might wonder
why
I was afraid. "Can you point to where the teacups are located?"

"Are you sure you want tea?" His voice was a purr that I found mesmerizing. "Or did you come down here looking for something else?"

"Tea," I said, weakly. "Definitely tea."

He was very close now, his feet touching the hem of my skirt. I only came up to his shoulder. My candle may have been on the table now behind him, but I could still make out the fierce intensity in his gaze as it locked with mine. I couldn't look away. Didn't want to.

My heart hammered against my chest, drowning out all sensible thoughts, leaving me only with mad ones. Ones where I imagined myself kissing Mr. Glass and being kissed in return.

As if he'd read my thoughts, his fingers touched mine. He caressed my palm and stroked upward to the underside of my wrist. He traced my throbbing vein and tugged aside the lace cuff of the dress. His finger continued up, up, until it touched the point of the knife.

He didn't flinch, didn't reel back in surprise. He knew it had been there the entire time. He continued to watch me with those deep, dark pools.

I did not pull away, despite my brain screaming at me to run. My heart protested, too, by slamming into my ribs. I couldn't move. Dared not. Running would invite him to catch me, and what he might do to me if he did scared me as much as it thrilled me.

"Careful, Miss Steele." The thick, velvety tone held more humor than threat, yet it did nothing to settle my nerves. "It's hot in here. Don't get burned." He backed away, leaving the knife concealed up my sleeve, then turned. Clearly he wasn't concerned that I'd throw the blade into his back. "Teacups are in that cupboard there," he said, walking out. "Don't stay up too late. I want an early start in the morning."

He was gone as suddenly as he'd appeared. I had to sit down on the stool by the stove or risk falling down, my legs were so weak. My chest heaved to gasp in air, as if I'd run all the way from Oxford Street again. Finally, after a few minutes, the fog receded from my head and I was able to think again and not simply
feel
. But all I could think was that my reaction to him had been sheer madness. Never had I been reduced to a trembling ball of nerves over a man.

Never had I felt so alive in the presence of one, either, or so desirable.

That last thought shocked me to the core and had me racing out of the kitchen again before he came back. I ran up to my room, shut and locked the door, and slipped the knife under my pillow.

I didn't trust him before and I certainly couldn't now. He must know that I suspected him but, perhaps worse than that, he'd proved to both himself and to me that he had the power to turn me into a brainless twit who fell far too easily under his thrall.