"But—"
"I'm fine. Don't mention it to the others. I don't want to worry them."
"If you're fine, there's no need for them to worry, is there?"
He scowled but offered no retort and we traveled in silence back to Mayfair. He took himself off to his room without me prompting, and he remained there for the rest of the afternoon.
I'd forgotten that the others were at the convent, helping with repairs and observing the goings on. Unfortunately, they had nothing to report by the time they came home in the late afternoon. They found me playing cards with Miss Glass in the sitting room. We'd hardly spoken, which was perhaps safer than touching on sensitive topics. Nevertheless, I was glad when Willie, Duke and Cyclops walked in.
"Did you learn anything?" I asked.
Willie threw herself into a chair and sighed. "Only that I hate hammering nails."
"What did you two find out?" Cyclops asked.
I told them what Father Antonio had told us but not how we'd extracted the information. I still felt uncomfortable about our methods.
"Where's Matt?" Willie asked.
"Resting."
"He's been resting for a long time," Miss Glass said, glancing at the clock.
My heart tripped. He had been resting longer than usual. "I'll see how he is," I said as calmly as I could. "And I'll ask Bristow to bring tea."
I left and fortunately no one followed. I didn't want to alarm them. Not yet. I raced to Matt's room and knocked lightly. No answer. With my heart in my throat, I pushed open the door and peered inside. He lay on top of the bed covers on his back, his eyes closed. His chest didn't move.
Oh god.
I touched his face with a shaking hand.
He was warm. Alive. Thank God. Now that I was closer, I could see his chest rise and fall, albeit slowly.
His eyes suddenly opened and I fell back. He caught my hand, steadying me, trapping me at his side. "India," he murmured, drawing my hand to his lips. "India."
Chapter 10
I tugged my hand free and backed away from the bed. "You've slept a long time," I said. "I grew worried."
Matt sat up and rubbed his eyes. His hair was delightfully rumpled and his eyes, when he withdrew his hands, still sported the haze of sleep. It took a great deal of control not to reach out and envelope him in my arms.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"Almost six."
"Already?" He scooted off the bed and clasped my face in his hands before I knew what was happening. He planted a kiss on my forehead. "Thank you for checking on me." He let me go and sat on the bed to put on his shoes. He seemed quite unaffected by the little kiss while my nerves sang. It was grossly unfair.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
"Fine."
"Has the pain returned?"
"I feel fine, India." I heard the abruptness in his voice loud and clear. It was my cue to exit.
"I'm sorry I woke you," I said. "We're all in the sitting room."
"India, wait." He joined me at the door and we left together. "I'm sorry I snapped. I don't like to be fussed over."
"I'm concerned, Matt, not fussing. It doesn't help that you won't discuss it with me or allow me to tell the others."
"There's nothing to discuss. I had a pain in my chest, but it went away. Nothing came of it. The long rest did me good. I feel fitter than I have in some time."
I eyed him closely, trying to detect if that were a lie or not, but he noticed and broke into a grin. "Be truthful, India, you were really hoping to catch me without my shirt. That's why you barged into my room."
"I didn't barge in," I said, striding off down the corridor. "I knocked first. And I know what you're trying to do, Matt. You're trying to distract me from inquiring about your health."
Miss Glass met us on her way up the stairs and looked relieved to see Matt. "I thought I should check on you," she said. "But I see India already has."
Matt placed a hand on my lower back and steered me down the stairs alongside his aunt. "She takes good care of me," he said.
"India, can you help me with something, please?"
I silently groaned but allowed Matt to go on ahead of us.
"India, you mustn't encourage him," Miss Glass hissed. "It's not appropriate for you to enter his room alone, now that he and Patience are almost engaged."
There were a thousand things I could have said in response but I chose the most benign one. I did not want to enter into awkward discussions with her. "You're right. It was highly inappropriate. I'll only enter his room if his life is in danger, from now on."
She hooked my arm with hers. "Thank you, India. You're such a good, agreeable sort."
Sometimes I wished I wasn't.
We caught up to Matt in the sitting room where he stood reading a newspaper. From the looks on the faces of the others, I knew it contained something I wouldn't like.
"It's this week's edition of The Weekly Gazette," Duke said. "Barratt's latest article is in it."
Matt lowered the paper so I could read too. The article contained no surprises, thankfully. It was a quarter page feature, and it mostly outlined the good work magicians could do when allowed to, such as building sturdy houses, creating beautiful and functional maps, and generally being useful yet ordinary members of society. The word "ordinary" had been stressed with bold type, and Oscar had gone on to say that magicians could be a friend or neighbor but suppress their true nature to go about their daily lives undetected. If they did not, the craft guilds would refuse membership to protect non-magician members. I thought it a tempered article. He could have said the guilds persecuted magicians.
Then I reached the final paragraph. Oscar wrote that magic was fleeting, but it could be extended by combining one magician's magic with that of a timepiece magician. He'd posed it as a theory only and had not expanded on the potential. Even so, he gave away too much for my liking. Where Force's article in The City Review had merely alluded to the possibility of extending magic through the experiment on Wilson Sweet, Barratt's article had left nothing open to interpretation.
"Damn it." Matt slapped the newspaper onto a table. "Damn Barratt."
"He always pushes the boundary," Cyclops said with a shake of his head.
"It's his job," Willie said. "He wouldn't be a good reporter if he didn't stir things up."
"Nonsense," Miss Glass said, picking up the paper. "There's no reason he can't write nice, sensible things that don't ruffle feathers. I'd read it. Many people would. There's no need to cause trouble like this." She dropped the paper back onto the table. "No need at all."
Willie rolled her eyes but wisely kept her mouth shut.
"So what do we do about it?" Duke asked. "Confront him? Warn him not to do it again?"
"Ask him to write a retraction," Cyclops added.
Willie leaned forward where she sat, legs apart like a man. "It's too late. The horse has bolted. We need to stop him from writing anything more, and the only way to do that is to threaten him. Make him afraid." She tapped her chest. "Let me do it. I'm the only one with the stomach for it."