"Matt." I took a step toward him but stopped again. I clasped my hands behind me. "There's nothing to forgive."
Lounging in the dim light cast by the lamps, he'd never looked more youthful. The signs of exhaustion were hidden by shadows and he had a way of looking at me that was not quite looking but pretending to be focused elsewhere. My heart thumped loudly in response.
"When is your birthday?" I asked.
His mouth twitched. "July nine. Why?"
"Sometimes it's hard to believe you're not yet thirty."
He laughed. "It's hard for me to believe too. I feel like an old man, some days. In many ways, I'm lucky. I've lived a full life. If it all ends—"
"Don't." My voice cracked. "It's not going to end. No way in hell, Matt, so you can stop talking like it is."
He chuckled. Chuckled!
"I fail to see what's so amusing about the turn of this discussion," I bit off.
"It's just that you and Willie are sounding more alike every day. Do I need to be worried about you carrying a gun?"
I snapped my skirt and spun around. "Only if you say something that offends me. Goodnight."
"India! Come back and talk to me. I desire your company."
"Goodnight, Matt," I said over my shoulder, my anger already fading but my resolve to leave even stronger. I hurried out before it faded too.
* * *
To everyone's surprise, Matt was gone before breakfast. He'd left the house alone. Not even Bristow knew where he’d headed.
"He didn't inform me," Bristow told us as he replaced the empty teapot with a full one. "He took the coach."
"Damn it," Willie muttered, sitting down hard on the chair. "If he's gone out without telling anyone, it's somewhere bad."
"Aye," Duke muttered. "You sure he didn't leave a note under your door, India?"
"Quite sure." If he didn't want a single one of us to know then I had to agree with Willie. It was somewhere bad. Somewhere he knew we'd object to him visiting.
I ran the previous night's conversations through my head, and for a moment, I suspected he'd gone to see Oscar Barratt to order him not to write the article after all. But Matt must know that was a futile exercise. So if not to see Barratt, where else would he go? The office of The City Review? But it was too early and it wouldn't be open. He didn't know Mr. Force's home address so he couldn't have gone there.
But he did know where Mr. Abercrombie lived, and Matt had told Oscar that Abercrombie and Force wouldn't escape his wrath.
I sprang up. "I know where he is!"
Duke, Cyclops and Willie all rose too. "Where?" they chimed together.
"Confronting Abercrombie." I snatched up a slice of toast and marched out of the room, my skirts snapping at my heels. "Bristow! Bristow, I need a hansom!"
"Make it a growler to take all of us," Cyclops added from behind me. I turned to see him surging out of the dining room, a slice of bacon sandwiched between two pieces of toast. He shoved it in his mouth and signaled to the others to hurry.
"What are we going to do if Matt's there?" Willie asked me.
"Stop him from saying or doing something that will land him in trouble."
Chapter 5
According to the footman who answered our knocks, Mr. Abercrombie was not at home. He had business to attend to at the Watchmaker's Guild hall before opening his shop. It wasn't far and we arrived at the Warwick Lane building by eight-thirty. There was no sign of Matt or his carriage.
I tipped my head back to peer up at the coat of arms above the door. Old Man Time looked somewhat ridiculous in nothing but his loincloth, and the emperor reminded me of the arrogant and overbearing men I'd met from this guild, chiefly Abercrombie and Eddie. Tempvs Rervm Imperator: Time is the ruler of all things. That may be true, but the Worshipful Company of Watchmakers no longer ruled me as it once had. I felt no connection to it anymore, no indignation that I hadn't been invited to become a member. I used to. When I thought their exclusion of me was because of my gender, I'd been angry. But I'd also felt a burning need to be recognized for my skill then, and the guild monopolized the awards and other means of recognition. Now, I knew their exclusion was based on something else entirely, and that my skill could never be compared to that of the members. It was liberating to not care.
The porter with the white bushy beard opened the door. He sighed upon recognizing me. "What do you want this time, Miss Steele?"
"Is Mr. Abercrombie here?"
"He's indisposed."
"Nonsense."
"Is Mr. Matthew Glass here?" Duke asked.
The porter's flinty gaze narrowed. "No. Why?"
Duke pushed past him, bumping his shoulder. "You sure about that?"
"Excuse me!" the porter cried. "I say, excuse me, you can't just barge in like this."
Willie and Cyclops followed Duke, and I trailed behind them. "We'll be but a moment," I said.
"This is outrageous! I expect it from Americans, but you, Miss Steele, are a good English girl from a good English family. I knew your father—"
"Do be quiet or I'll be forced to say something very un-English that I might regret later." I didn't spare him another thought as I followed the others through the guild hall.
We peered into the sitting room, a meeting room, dining hall and even the back of house. All except the service rooms were vacant. Despite the search, it was Mr. Abercrombie who found us. He came down the staircase as we were about to climb up.
"I should have known you'd be at the root of such a hubbub, Miss Steele," he said down his equine nose. He remained half way on the staircase, not proceeding further. I suspected the presence of three angry Americans at the base of the stairs was the reason for his reluctance.
"Is Matt here?" I asked.
"No."
"Have you seen him this morning?"
"Lost him, have you? Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later, him being what he is and you being, well…" His meaning was not lost on me, particularly because he accompanied his acidic tone with a sneer.
Willie surged up the staircase. "You better not be lying."
Mr. Abercrombie stumbled back a step. "I'm not."
Willie placed her hands on her hips, revealing the gun thrust into the trouser band.
"Miss Steele, control your…whatever this person is…or I'll summon the constables."
"Come on, Willie," Duke said. "Matt ain't here."
Mr. Abercrombie stretched out his neck and tugged on his jacket lapels. He did not take his gaze off Willie. "Why would he be?"
"To speak with you about the article in The City Review," I said, climbing the steps. "It was irresponsible of you and Mr. Force to write so negatively about magicians. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for treating innocent people so cruelly."
"Innocent! You are no innocent, Miss Steele, and neither is the rest of your ilk. You're a wolf in sheep's clothing, and wolves do no belong in the flock. They're a danger. Magicians are a danger. Look what happened to Wilson Sweet!"