The Toymaker's Curse (Glass and Steele Book 11) Page 2

  I doubted I could stop Oscar if he was angry enough. The situation might require a more physical solution. “Wait here,” I ordered as I gathered my skirts. “I’ll ask Matt to accompany us, and perhaps Duke.”

  “You ought to fetch Willemina,” Aunt Letitia said from behind me. “And her gun.”

  “When did you get so bloodthirsty?”

  “You must admit it can be quite an efficient way to resolve a confrontation.”

  “We will not be shooting anyone.”

  “I think it’s a good idea,” Louisa called out from the pavement as Bristow opened the front door for me. “Oscar was rather furious, and I don’t trust either he or Sir Charles to back away without a fight.”

  Even so, I would not invite Willie or her gun along. Adding her to an already volatile situation seemed about as smart as lighting a match in a room filled with gas.

  Chapter 2

  We did not find Oscar and Sir Charles engaged in fisticuffs when we arrived at the modest Hammersmith row house where Sir Charles rented rooms, but we could hear their shouts from the pavement. The landlady was eager to let us in when we explained we were there to resolve the conflict peacefully. The poor woman was as white as a sheet.

  Matt took the stairs three at a time, and when Louisa and I caught up to him in Sir Charles’s parlor, he’d already positioned himself between the men, arms outstretched to keep them apart. They each glared past him at the other, although only Oscar’s hands were clenched into fists.

  Sir Charles looked more relieved than angry as he smoothed a hand over hair slicked with Makassar Oil. Not that his hair had been disheveled. Sir Charles’s appearance was as sleek and sophisticated as ever. “Thank you, Glass, but there’s no need for you to be here. Barratt and I were about to have a civilized conversation.”

  “It didn’t look civilized to me.” Matt lowered his arms, keeping a wary eye on Oscar. “Barratt, can I count on you to be a gentleman and talk your differences through?”

  “A gentleman?” Oscar scoffed. He uncurled his fists and put his hands in the air, however. “Very well, I’ll lower my voice. But I’ve come here for answers, and I won’t be leaving until I get them.”

  “I already told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sir Charles spoke mildly, as if he were addressing a friend with a minor complaint. “Come now, let’s be chums again, Barratt. We have similar interests, after all. It would be a shame to attend Collectors’ Club meetings and have to avoid one another.”

  “You had me dismissed from the Gazette,” Oscar snarled.

  “I’m flattered that you think I have such influence, but I do not.”

  “You set upon me in a lane,” Oscar snarled.

  “I didn’t.”

  “You shot at me outside the Gazette’s office!”

  “What?” Sir Charles blurted out. It was the first sign that his feathers were ruffled.

  “India and Glass were there. Don’t try to deny it.”

  “I certainly did not shoot at you!”

  Oscar bared his teeth and took a step closer to Sir Charles. Matt shoved him back and Oscar stood there, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as his gaze drilled into Sir Charles. Sir Charles glared right back, his feathers once again smooth. He was not a man who let emotions unsettle him, even when confronted by a determined member of the press.

  “You are responsible for the beating,” Matt said to Sir Charles. “We know it.”

  We didn’t, but Matt’s lie worked. Sir Charles gave a slight nod of his head.

  Again, Oscar stepped toward him; again, Matt had to hold him back.

  “That fellow went too far,” Sir Charles admitted. “I never intended for you to get injured. All I wanted to do was frighten you into giving up on that damned book.”

  Oscar gave a thin smile. “Congratulations. Your plan succeeded.”

  I tried to gauge if he was sincere or not, but it was impossible to tell. Louisa’s face gave nothing away either. She moved up alongside Oscar and clung to his arm. It was a show of solidarity for a couple I was never quite sure were solid enough to make a good marriage. As a lady, she was marrying far beneath her station, but that didn’t mean it was a love match. She wanted Oscar for his magical bloodline. He agreed to marry her because her money could fund the publication of his book. Now that he’d decided not to write it, he no longer needed to marry her.

  Considering they were standing side by side, it suggested he wasn’t giving up on the book at all and was lying to us. I wasn’t surprised.

  “Why don’t you want the book written?” Louisa asked Sir Charles.

  “The book’s publication could see magic brought into the open. I stand with Coyle and don’t wish my collection to be devalued if magicians infuse their magic into everything, which is precisely what will happen if the general public learn of its benefits.”

  I kept my gaze directed forward, despite wanting to look around for the objects Sir Charles claimed were magical. I’d touched them in the past and felt no magical warmth in them. If he did own any magical objects, he kept them hidden. Or he had none and lied about it.

  “Selfish, greedy little man,” Louisa spat. “You choose money over allowing magicians to live a free life.”

  Sir Charles bristled. To my surprise, so did Matt. It was he who spoke while Sir Charles searched for a response.

  “They won’t be free. Not if the book is published. Magicians will be reviled and feared by their artless competitors and that will lead to their persecution. History shows us what the majority do to the minorities they fear.”

  “Magic is common knowledge now, Mr. Glass,” Louisa said. “It’s too late to suppress that knowledge now.”

  “It’s not too late. Thanks to your fiancé’s articles, some suspect, that’s true, but not all. If the book is published…” His gaze shifted to Oscar. “If the world knew about magicians, I’m afraid they’d suffer persecution.”

  Sir Charles cleared his throat. “Agreed. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to return to work. I’m late enough as it is.”

  “Not yet,” Matt said. “Were you being honest when you claimed you didn’t shoot at Barratt?”

  “Of course. I did not shoot at him, nor did I get him dismissed from the paper.” He turned to Oscar. “You have my word as a gentleman.”

  Oscar’s lip lifted in a sneer.

  Louisa tugged her fiancé toward the door, and I followed them.

  “Am I still invited to your meeting tonight?” Sir Charles asked.

  Louisa glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Of course. You are a club member.”

  Outside on the pavement, Oscar extricated himself from Louisa, who’d continued to cling to his arm. “I don’t think he should be invited,” he said. “Can’t you ban him?”

  “That’s not how it works, Oscar. He’s a member. It’s not up to me.”

  “You can ban him from your house.”

  She gave him an arched look.

  “I’m sure either he or Coyle had me dismissed from the paper. My editor is a good fellow. He likes me. He wouldn’t get rid of me unless someone forced his hand.”

  Matt opened the door of our waiting carriage and extended his hand to assist me inside. “Coyle is the most likely suspect. He has the greater influence.”

  “I’ll confront him tonight,” Oscar growled.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” his fiancée shot back. “Besides, you don’t need to work. I can support us both.”

  “When are you getting married?” I asked as I smoothed the blanket over my lap.

  “Soon,” Louisa said from the pavement.

  Oscar looked away.

  Matt offered to drive them home but both declined. He gave our coachman, Woodall, instructions before climbing in and sitting beside me.

  “India, will you come to the meeting tonight?” Louisa asked before Matt closed the door. “You too, Mr. Glass, of course.”

  “Thank you for including me, but I have a prior enga
gement tonight.” Matt’s wry tone wasn’t lost on me, but Louisa didn’t flinch.

  “Do come, India. You’ll be most welcome, as always. The members of the club adore you, and there’ll be a special guest tonight too.”

  “I’ll come,” I said.

  “Wonderful. We begin at eight.”

  Louisa and Oscar stepped back and our coach rolled off. I took Matt’s hand. “Before you comment, you should know that I only agreed to attend so that I can spy on Sir Charles. I might learn something about him by observing him more closely.”

  “I wasn’t going to comment.” He leaned back to look at me better. “Did you think I’d forbid you?”

  “You wouldn’t dare. But I thought you might question my judgement.”

  “Never. Your judgement is perfectly sound.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “But…?”

  “But I think you should take Duke or Cyclops with you, just in case.”

  “Not Willie?”

  “I want you protected, not thrust into the path of scandal or danger.”

  Willie would not be left out, however. Since Duke and Cyclops were both coming with me, she was determined to accompany us.

  “You ain’t going to miss out on anything,” Duke told her. “It’ll just be the usual toffs boasting about the usual magical things they’ve bought.”

  Willie accepted her Stetson from Bristow. “I ain’t got nothing better to do, seeing as Farnsworth’s with Matt at his club. Besides, Louisa always has nice food.”

  “She has a French chef,” I told her.

  Bristow gasped.

  We all stared at him. “Is something the matter?” I asked.

  He checked over his shoulder then leaned closer. “Don’t let Mrs. Potter hear you mention French chefs. She doesn’t like them.”

  “All of them?”

  “One in particular, a Monsieur Claud, a chef-for-hire who caters for parties at the finest houses. Apparently she disparaged his pastry and he heard about it, and now they’re having an ongoing war.”

  “A war over pastry. How extraordinary.”

  “Ain’t no contest,” Cyclops said. “Mrs. Potter makes the best pastry.”

  “You haven’t tried the French chef’s yet,” Duke said.

  “I don’t need to.”

  I patted Cyclops’s arm. “Mrs. Potter will be pleased to hear you say that.”

  He sighed. “I’m going to miss her cooking when Catherine and I set up our own house.”

  It was the first time I’d heard him admit that he and Catherine would have a life together soon. I was shocked into speechlessness but immensely pleased. They both deserved happiness.

  I spent the journey to Louisa’s townhouse with a smile on my face. I was even looking forward to the evening, particularly once Willie told me that Lord Farnsworth had informed her that the guest of honor tonight was a toymaker magician. Most magicians performed magic on a natural element, such as metal, wood, cotton, silk, or even the human body. My magic worked with crafted objects—watches and clocks—that could contain more than one element. I infused my magic into the watch, not its metal components. A toymaker magician would work the same way.

  It was an important difference between the magics, and one that had me curious about the nature of magic. While all magicians were craftsmen—even Gabe Seaford, the doctor magician—our magic didn’t manifest in the same manner.

  Before he left the house, Matt had asked me not to tell the toymaker magician my name. After Amelia Moreton, the fireworks magician, tried to force me to infuse my extension spell with her friend’s magic, Matt worried that other magicians would try to do the same. Despite keeping Amelia’s threats out of the newspapers, word would have got out among certain magicians that I could extend the length of other magicians’ magic. The Pandora’s box had been opened and we could not close it again, but I liked to think common sense would prevail and no one else would go to the extremes Amelia had.

  Matt wasn’t quite as trusting.

  Louisa didn’t bat an eyelid at my inviting extra guests to her soiree, but others narrowed their gaze at first and widened them again upon seeing Willie. With her thumbs hooked into her belt loops, the men’s clothing and disheveled hair, she was quite the curiosity among the elegant ladies in their evening gowns. Those who’d met her before gave forced smiles as she passed, while others changed direction to avoid crossing her path altogether. Only Mrs. Delancey surged towards her like a steam engine encased in purple silk with velvet trim.

  Willie didn’t see her coming until it was too late. She groaned when Mrs. Delancey reached us, not even trying to cover it up. “I ain’t signing no temperance agreement,” Willie told her. “You can shove it—”

  “Willie!” I drew in a breath and hoped to draw in some patience along with it. “What she’s trying to say is, she prefers to have a drink now and again rather than completely abstain,” I told Mrs. Delancey.

  Willie peered past Mrs. Delancey. “Speaking of which, have refreshments been served yet?”

  Mrs. Delancey moved to block Willie’s view of the adjoining refreshment room. Willie stepped the other way and Mrs. Delancey responded. It looked like an odd dance performed between unwilling partners.

  “You can’t supervise me all night,” Willie said.

  Mrs. Delancey patted her arm. “I know, dear. That’s why I’ve convinced Louisa to serve alcoholic beverages to the men only. The women will have tea.”

  Willie stamped her hands on her hips. “That ain’t fair.”

  Duke chuckled. “It’s her house; she can do what she wants.”

  “How did you convince her?” I asked Mrs. Delancey.

  “By telling her the story of Miss Johnson’s visit to my home just before Christmas and how she threw up in my magical vase after drinking too much the night before.” Mrs. Delancey gave Willie a smug look. “She suspected you might bring Miss Johnson tonight and agreed it was best to keep the brandy away from her so it doesn’t happen again.”

  “I ate a bad oyster that time,” Willie muttered. “I can hold my liquor.” She marched off toward a group of men that included Oscar. Perhaps she hoped to blend in with them and be offered a glass of brandy by an unobservant footman.

  Mrs. Delancey looped her arm through mine as if we were intimate friends. “What a delight to see you here, India. Have you met Mr. Trentham yet?”

  I followed her gaze to where Fabian Charbonneau was chatting to a portly middle-aged man with a bushy moustache and a thick crop of curly gray hair. He gazed up at the French iron magician with what could only be described as adoring eyes. “Is he the toymaker magician?”

  “He is indeed. I’m looking forward to hearing him speak. He brought a large trunk with him that I suspect is filled with all sorts of magical wonders. I do hope he’s prepared to sell some things. Mr. Delancey has given me free reign to purchase any item I wish, no matter the cost. He couldn’t come tonight, alas, but it appears all the usual members are here, except Lord Farnsworth.”

  “Mr. Trentham and Fabian seem deep in conversation.”

  “They’ve been inseparable ever since Louisa introduced them. Would you like to meet him?”

  “Perhaps later.” I searched the room for Sir Charles and spotted him talking to Lord Coyle. They stood to one side of the room by a large potted fern.

  “Speaking of Mr. Charbonneau,” Mrs. Delancey said. “Do tell me you’ve reconsidered and will resume creating new spells with him. You two can achieve so much together.”

  “Dear me, it seems Willie has managed to get a drink already.”

  I took the opportunity that Mrs. Delancey’s distraction provided and slipped away. I unfolded my fan and placed it in front of my face. With a shake of my head at Cyclops and Duke, I distanced myself from my conspicuous companions and hid behind the potted fern.

  Lord Coyle’s tone was cross, but I couldn’t make out his words. From my position, I couldn’t see either of their faces. It was possible Lord Coyle wasn’t cr
oss with Sir Charles at all, but simply irritable thanks to his new wife banning him from smoking cigars.

  As if my thoughts summoned her, Hope appeared by my side. She was dressed in a dark green gown with black lace ruffles down the skirt and at the elbows. The low neckline showed off her décolletage and the emerald and jet necklace nestled there. “India, what are you doing hiding back here? Why, it’s almost as if you’re trying to eavesdrop on my husband and Sir Charles.”

  Lord Coyle and Sir Charles broke off their conversation. Sir Charles bowed to me as I emerged from my hiding place, but Coyle merely grunted.

  “Glass not here?” Lord Coyle asked as he peered around the room.

  “He had another engagement,” I said.

  “I see you have your other bulldogs with you instead.”

  “I know you’re not familiar with the concept, my lord, but they’re my friends. I wanted them to come.”

  His eyes narrowed so much they almost disappeared beneath the folds of his protuberant eyelids. “You’re bold tonight, India.”

  The corners of Hope’s mouth turned down. “Indeed. You become more and more American every day.”

  I laughed. “That isn’t the disparagement you think it is.”

  Hope’s gaze turned hard and became even harder when her husband laughed too. “I like this boldness in you, India,” he said. “You should leave your husband home more often.”

  “Perhaps we all should.” Hope marched off and was soon swallowed up by the gathering.

  Sir Charles cleared his throat and he too made his excuses, although more politely. I was left alone with Lord Coyle, but instead of feeling trapped, I did feel emboldened. It was most likely because, for the first time since meeting him, I had the upper hand. He owed me a favor. Matt had sold him the magic flying carpet we’d used to fly to Brighton to capture Amelia Moreton. The cost of the sale had been Lord Coyle’s information. We were yet to collect our debt.

  But it was a debt we shouldn’t even be owed. Matt hadn’t sold him the actual flying carpet, but a fake one that held no magic. Being artless, Lord Coyle couldn’t tell the difference.