The Convent's Secret (Glass and Steele #5)
C.J. Archer
Chapter 1
London, Spring 1890
Matt had walked to Lady Buckland's house, so there was no rumble of carriage wheels to announce his return to number sixteen Park Street, only the quiet click of the front door unlocking. The sound wrenched my frayed nerves and echoed through the deep silence of the small hours.
He was home, thank God.
I gathered my wrap around my shoulders and rose from the sofa where I'd given up trying to read an hour ago. I got no further than a few steps before his frame filled the doorway. The lamplight cast a soft glow over his face, highlighting his strong jaw and cheekbones, obscuring the signs of exhaustion. He should be resting, not breaking into the homes of well-to-do ladies.
"I saw the light," he said, prowling into the drawing room. It would seem that stealth, necessary for the night's burgling, had not yet rubbed off. He stole toward me without making a sound nor a hair on his head moving. The dark pits of his eyes threatened to swallow me whole. I couldn't tell whether his excursion had been successful or not, but I could read his desire. Or perhaps sense it.
Or perhaps I simply wanted it to be there.
Wanted it, yet did not at the same time. Dared not.
I was suddenly more anxious about being alone with him than I had been waiting for his safe return. "Well?" A whisper was all I could manage as panic set in. I really should have gone to bed. Tempting fate like this was a mistake.
"Well," he said, his rich voice sliding over me as thoroughly as his gaze. "You waited up."
"I was worried."
"There was no need. I've crept through houses while the occupants slept dozens of times. Mostly the occupants were armed outlaws, not old ladies." He stepped closer until we were barely a foot apart. He leaned forward a little and a small, crooked smile bedeviled his handsome features. "But I like that you were worried about me."
I clutched my shawl tighter and felt my heart flutter. It was definitely a mistake to stay up when no one else had. "But her servants…"
"Were asleep in their beds. Nobody stirred."
"They could have. Or her dog may have heard you."
"The dog is used to servants coming and going. Besides, I had treats." He pulled out a paper bag from his jacket pocket. I smelled the bacon before he showed me the contents.
I laughed, shedding the remnants of the worry that had weighed me down since he'd told me he would break into Lady Buckland's house.
"The others have retired?" he asked, pouring two brandies at the sideboard.
"They weren't as concerned." Duke and Cyclops had remained up until one. Willie had come home from her own nocturnal adventures half an hour later and had promptly retired to bed.
"They know me better." He handed me a tumbler and touched his glass to mine. "That side of me, anyway. You only know the respectable gentleman, not the outlaw."
"I've seen you in moments where you've shed your polished veneer." Like the time he'd fought off my attackers, the times he'd threatened Eddie Hardacre and Mr. Abercrombie, and the time he undid my corset laces.
He studied me over the rim of his glass, as if trying to determine which moments I meant. "And do you like those moments?"
I didn't answer him. That path led to treacherous waters. I sat on the sofa and sipped. The brandy steadied my nerves enough that I felt I could look at him again without falling into the depths of his eyes. "I know you well enough to know you're in a good mood. You were successful?"
He sat too, and the tension that had enveloped us since his entry broke. I sighed but wasn't sure if it was from relief or disappointment.
"I was," he said, a hint of triumph in his voice. "Tucked away in the hidden drawer of her escritoire was a document, from Mother Alfreda at the Convent of the Sisters of the Sacred Heart in Chelsea, stating that Lady Buckland agrees to give her child to the convent's care until such time as he can be given to a good Christian family to raise."
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. We had another piece to the puzzle of Matt's magical watch. I'd been so afraid that our investigation would come to nothing. We'd opened old wounds and released painful memories for many people in recent days, including me, but I'd consoled myself with the thought that we were making progress. And we had. My grandfather, Chronos, had taught me the spell to combine with another magician's to extend their magic, and we had the doctor magician's spell too. It was written in Dr. Millroy's diary, now in our possession after we discovered who murdered him twenty-seven years ago. But the final piece of the puzzle had eluded us—a doctor magician to speak the spell. We only knew of one potential candidate: the illegitimate son of Dr. Millroy, who'd been given away by his mother all those years ago.
Now we had a place to begin our search for him. We were drawing so close I could taste the hope on my tongue, feel it thrumming along my veins. We would find him soon and combine our magic in Matt's watch to fix it.
I didn't dare think about what we'd do if we found him only to learn he hadn't inherited his father's magical ability.
"Did you find out anything else about the boy?" I asked.
"No." He drained the contents of his glass. For a moment, I worried he would pour himself another. He used to drink too much, years ago, but had curbed his excesses except for a minor relapse, the previous week, when he'd been with my grandfather in this very room.
Matt remained seated, the glass dangling from his fingertips over the arm of his chair. He watched me from beneath heavy lids.
"Will we visit the convent first thing tomorrow morning?" I asked.
"Yes." At least he didn't correct my use of we. While there was no need for me to accompany him, we'd fallen into a pattern of investigating together. We worked well as a team, our strengths balancing out the other's weaknesses. That's what I told myself, anyway. It could be that he simply wanted my company.
"Then we should get some sleep." I glanced at the clock on the mantel but it was too dim to make out its face. I guessed it to be almost three.
He caught my arm as I passed. His fingers lightly skimmed my bare flesh and his gaze held mine. "India," he purred. "Stay. Talk to me. Tell me—"
"No," I said before he could ask me to tell him why I'd refused his offer of marriage. Only the day before yesterday he'd assured me he would find out. I wasn't prepared to broach the subject and defend my decision. "Not now."
"When this is over, then. When my watch is fixed and I have a future to look forward to."
I nodded.
"Unless I coax it out of you sooner." He smiled that crooked smile again, the one I found I wanted to capture and keep just for me.
He let me go and I headed up to my room, my heart in my throat.
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