We fell to discussing our next course of action, and with Bristow's help, I noted down several London manufacturers that worked with silk. It felt immensely satisfying to have a course of action and the rest of our day planned.
A plan that couldn't be put into immediate action, thanks to the arrival of Lord Rycroft. At least his wife wasn't with him. Somehow she managed to turn every discussion into an argument, particularly with Miss Glass. Lord Rycroft insisted on speaking to Matt and Miss Glass alone, and I was happy to go for a stroll with Willie to Hyde Park.
Willie, however, was not much of a stroller. "Walking's for getting places when a horse ain't available," she said as we entered the park. "And for folk with nothing better to do."
"We're folk with nothing better to do at the moment," I said, slipping my arm through hers. "Or are you going to tell me you have an invitation to be elsewhere?"
She eyed our linked arms as if it were a chain to keep her from running away. "Not today."
"That letter wasn't an invitation to meet a friend?" I attempted innocence but failed miserably if her withering glare was an indication.
"You saw that?"
"It's not the first message you've received in the last day or so. Are they from your lover?"
She lifted her chin. "I ain't saying."
I stopped and took her hands, forcing her to stop too. She didn't meet my gaze. "Willie, why won't you share your secret with me? Or if not me, then someone else? We care about you, and you're clearly unhappy at the moment. Perhaps I can help."
"You can't." She pulled away and stalked off along the path, bypassing a nanny pushing a perambulator and almost getting in the way of a rider on horseback.
I picked up my skirts and had to trot to keep up. "Very well, I respect your wish for privacy."
I let the matter drop. I let all matters drop. I didn't start another conversation and she didn't attempt to, either. After five minutes that felt like thirty, she still hadn't given in, and I found she'd steered us back to Park Lane. Another five minutes later we were home again, the briefest and most awkward stroll having ended.
Thankfully, Lord Rycroft had already left. "He wouldn't even sit down," Miss Glass said as I joined her and Matt in the drawing room.
It wasn't my place to ask what he wanted but I was terribly curious. I suspected Matt would have told me in private, away from his aunt, but Willie couldn't wait. "So what did he want this time?"
"He insisted I go with Beatrice and the girls to the estate," Miss Glass said. "It was my last chance, he told me. Overbearing, insufferable ogre. He always has been, even before our father died. It's no wonder your father left, Matthew. No wonder at all. I should have gone with Harry, like he asked me to. I could be married to an Italian count by now."
Matt sat beside her and sandwiched her hand between both of his. "You wouldn't want to live in Italy, Aunt. It's far too hot in summer."
She smiled at him but there was no joy in it.
"Don't wish yourself married, Letty," Willie said, lounging against the window frame. "It ain't always a good state for a girl to get herself into. She's got to choose the right husband, and there ain't a lot of men out there like Matt. Many of 'em are just hogs dressed in trousers."
"Poor Willie." Miss Glass rose and clasped Willie by the elbows. Eyes, wide, Willie swayed back until the window pane got in the way. "You haven't been exposed to many gentlemen so it's no wonder you have that attitude."
"I've been exposed to plenty of gen'lemen in my time, and they're just as bad, sometimes worse. They're just hogs in finer clothes. You're better off here, Letty, with Matt and India and the rest of us. You can do all the strolling and visiting you want. Ain't that a peach?"
Miss Glass kissed her cheek. "It certainly is. Thank you, dear Willemina."
Willie watched her leave with a puzzled expression. "She's lost her marbles again. She called me dear."
"That's definitely a sign of madness," Matt agreed then grinned when his cousin glared at him.
"What did you say to your uncle?" I asked Matt.
"I didn't say anything. Aunt Letitia did all the talking. She told him she'd make a very public scene if he forced her to go with Aunt Beatrice and the girls." One corner of his mouth lifted. "She raised her voice and everything. He decided not to test her."
"Why did he come back and try her again? I thought he'd accepted her decision the other day."
"I…I couldn't say."
I cocked my head to the side. "Matt? What aren't you telling me?"
Willie shook a finger at him. "Don't you keep secrets from us, Matthew Glass. I ain't asking you where you went this morning because a man has a right to his privacy, but you got to answer India now. This concerns all of us, don't it?"
"Not all." Matt cleared his throat and finally met my gaze. "He'd read The City Review."
I'd suspected as much but felt no victory in being correct. I plopped down on a chair. "And he connected my name with the Gideon Steele involved in the death of Wilson Sweet. He didn't want Miss Glass associating with me."
"Can't imagine he wants any of his family associating with you," Willie added. "Sorry, India, but you know it."
"I do."
Matt crouched before me and rested his hands on my knees. The gesture was far too intimate, yet I didn't shift away. "Don't worry about my uncle and aunt. I don't care what they think, and nor does Letitia."
"Are you sure she doesn't?" As far as Miss Glass was concerned, I wasn't good enough for her nephew. While that had nothing to do with my magic—and everything to do with my lowly status—I thought she might use the opportunity to remind Matt how unsuitable I was for him.
"Quite sure," he said gently. "You should have heard her defend you. She told my uncle that you possessed more ladylike qualities than his daughters, and she'd rather have you as a companion than anyone else. She adores you, India, and admires you greatly."
Yet that apparently wasn't enough. Nothing I did ever would be.
* * *
The five of us split up to conduct our search of silk manufacturers, weavers, and any shops we could think of that traded in bolts of silk. We had to disregard sellers of products made from silk, however. There were simply too many hatters, tailors and dressmakers in the city.
I wasn't too keen to be separated from Matt. What if something happened to him and he couldn't use his watch? Who would know to place it in his hand if he fell unconscious? He gave me no choice, however, as he got out of the carriage at the area allotted to him and ordered the coachman to drive on with me inside. We were away the moment the door closed.