The Toymaker's Curse (Glass and Steele Book 11) Page 3

  “Your wife despises you already?” I asked cheerfully. “That was fast. It took me more than two weeks to decide I didn’t like you.”

  “She is simply upset that I haven’t given her free access to my fortune.”

  “Isn’t that a new necklace she’s wearing?”

  “It’s a family heirloom. She wants more.”

  “In my experience, she always does.” I went to walk off.

  “I have some news for you,” he called after me.

  “I don’t want to hear it.” Even so, I hesitated.

  He leaned on his walking stick. “This is free and won’t be covered by my debt for the rug.” His jowls trembled with his smile. “Do you remember Hendry?”

  “The paper magician who murdered a man and tried to kill me?”

  “The very same. He’s getting married.”

  I blinked slowly. Mr. Hendry preferred men to women. For him to marry, he must have good reason, and I suspected that reason was because he owed his freedom to Lord Coyle, who’d saved him from being hanged for murder. It seemed Lord Coyle had collected that debt by forcing him to wed.

  It also seemed his lordship was going to great lengths to ensure the continuation of the paper magic line; a lineage that would end with Mr. Hendry if he didn’t have children.

  “Is his new wife a magician?” I asked.

  “You’re an intelligent woman, India. What do you think?”

  “I think she is.”

  He simply smiled, or attempted to. Lord Coyle’s smiles tended to look more like grimaces. “Let’s hope the happy couple enjoy a long and fruitful life together.”

  “In peace, without the interference of others.” I strode off and joined Cyclops who stood alone, trying to look inconspicuous near another potted palm on the opposite side of the room. “You look bored.”

  “These ain’t my people, India.”

  “They’re not mine, either.” I sighed. “I’m sorry I dragged you here. We’ll leave as soon as the lecture is over.”

  “Is that the toymaker magician?” he asked, nodding at Mr. Trentham.

  It was the man behind Mr. Trentham who caught my attention. Oscar stood alone, his icy glare directed at Louisa and Fabian, speaking quietly to one another. She looked relieved at something Fabian said and shifted closer to him. She fingered his lapel before lightly pressing her hand to it.

  Oscar stiffened and marched off. He did not head towards them but corralled Lord Coyle by the door. I could no longer see Oscar’s face, but from the way Lord Coyle’s nostrils flared, I suspected he was confronting his lordship over his involvement in Oscar’s dismissal from the newspaper.

  It was the very thing Louisa asked Oscar not to do tonight.

  Lord Coyle folded both hands over the head of his walking stick and shook his head. He said something to Oscar then went to move off.

  Oscar grabbed his arm. Coyle glared down at it, but Oscar did not let go. By now, several guests had stopped their conversations and watched.

  “It wasn’t me!” Lord Coyle bellowed.

  “Wasn’t it?” Oscar asked, voice also raised. “It seems like the sort of thing you’d do to force me to give up the book.”

  “You have given it up, so you tell everyone. Or is that not the case?”

  All conversations stopped and an eerie hush blanketed the room. Louisa had gone very still. She appeared frozen to the spot, but I suspected I was the only one who noticed. Everyone else’s attention was on her fiancé and Lord Coyle.

  “You’re a fool if you think it was me, Barratt.” Coyle had lowered his voice but it was still audible in the quiet room. “Why would I want you dismissed from the paper when that would give you more time to work on the book?” Lord Coyle smacked the end of his walking stick into Oscar’s shin. “Out of my way.”

  Oscar’s chest heaved with his unsteady breaths. For one heart-stopping moment I thought he’d assault Lord Coyle. I’d never considered Oscar to be a violent man, but being dismissed from the Gazette had clearly rattled him. When added to his troubles with Louisa, it might cause him to be frustrated enough to lash out.

  Louisa clapped her hands to get our attention. “Time for the lecture, everyone! Mr. Trentham, would you like to make your way to the front.”

  Footmen positioned chairs into rows as Louisa directed Mr. Trentham where to stand.

  I sat near the back and Fabian occupied the chair beside me. “That was a curious show between Barratt and Coyle,” he said. “Did Coyle lie about having Barratt dismissed, do you think?”

  “It’s difficult to say.” I tried not to look at either Oscar or Lord Coyle and directed my gaze ahead. “He is a good liar.”

  “And capable of costing a man his work.” Fabian clicked his tongue. “I despise him. He cares for no one but himself. But Barratt should not have confronted him here. Not in front of everyone.”

  “Louisa asked Oscar not to.”

  Fabian frowned. “Then why did he?”

  “Why indeed?” The only explanation I could come up with was frustration and perhaps jealousy. When Oscar had seen Louisa touching Fabian’s lapel in an intimate gesture, he’d done the very thing he knew would get her attention.

  If he was jealous then that meant he loved her. Perhaps he wasn’t marrying her simply for her money, after all. It explained why he continued with the engagement when he’d abandoned the book and no longer needed her money.

  Poor Oscar. Louisa only had eyes for Fabian.

  Fabian leaned closer to me. “There is a madness in the air tonight. Do you feel it, India?”

  “A little. Why did you come? I thought you were trying to avoid Louisa.”

  His dark eyes sparkled. “She sent me a message this afternoon to say you would be here. Of course I want to come to see my friend. I miss you.”

  I chuckled. “You mean you miss making spells with me.”

  He pressed a hand to his heart and fought against a smile. “You wound me, India. I miss my friend.”

  “You can call on me whenever you like. Just because we’re no longer creating spells together doesn’t mean we can’t see one another.”

  “I do not wish to make Glass jealous of me.”

  I laughed. “You’re so French, Fabian. I assure you, Matt won’t get jealous.”

  “Then I promise to call on you.” He turned to face the front where the toymaker was inspecting the contents of the trunk while the rest of the audience took their seats. “His magic is curious but not strong. He wants to meet you, very much.”

  “I’ll talk to him later, but I won’t create a spell with him.”

  “I was not asking you to. You must come to me if you change your mind. I will not trouble you.” He sounded genuinely disappointed in me for thinking he would.

  “Sorry, Fabian.” An uncomfortable silence filled the space between us which Fabian thankfully broke after a moment.

  “I can bring you the carpet, if you like. I retrieved it from the field near Brighton. It was dirty but my servants cleaned it.”

  “It’s your rug, Fabian. You keep it.”

  “But your magic made it fly.”

  “Yours too. I couldn’t have managed it without your iron magic in the supports. Besides, I have nowhere to put it.” I glanced at Lord Coyle, seated two rows in front. “Whatever you do, don’t let his lordship know he didn’t buy it.”

  He smiled slyly. “I would never. Tricking him makes me happy.”

  I smiled too. “It does give one a sense of satisfaction. Speaking of that spell, I’ve been meaning to ask you for it.”

  “You wish to keep it?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Will you destroy it?”

  I hesitated before saying, “I don’t know.”

  There was nothing to stop Fabian making a copy before he gave it to me, so it didn’t matter if I destroyed it. I couldn’t imagine Fabian bringing himself to release the one and only written copy of our flying carpet spell, no matter how many times he said it was mi
ne to do with as I wished. I suspected he would keep it simply for the sakes of future studies into magic. He couldn’t use it himself; his magic couldn’t make the rug fly, only the iron supports beneath it. Iron and wood magic needed to be used in conjunction with our new spell to make the whole structure fly.

  “I will bring it to you tomorrow,” he said.

  Louisa called for quiet then introduced Mr. Trentham.

  During the applause, Fabian bent his head to mine and whispered, “Perhaps you will use the spell to create another in secret.”

  I stared at his refined profile as he watched Mr. Trentham. This was one of those times when it was impossible to know if Fabian was teasing me. While he’d been upset when I first told him I no longer wanted to create new spells with him, I thought he’d come to accept it. But his response seemed to say that he held out hope I would change my mind. Fortunately he did not pressure me to change it. I liked Fabian and I didn’t want to argue with him or have to stop seeing him altogether.

  Mr. Trentham was an engaging speaker with interesting tales to tell about his toys and the people who came into his shop. Unfortunately his magic was somewhat less engaging. The only spell he knew made his toys move a little longer than without it. They still had to be manipulated by human hands, however.

  The spinning top spun for five minutes before it lost momentum and toppled over. The wooden train traveled further than expected after he pushed it. A doll repeated the words “My name is Polly” three times with the spell and two times without it, but only after Mr. Trentham pulled on the string at her back. I was hoping it would work without the need for anyone to pull it at all.

  “You could make it walk,” Fabian whispered in my ear.

  I nudged him with my elbow, but the twinkle in his eyes remained.

  Polite applause followed the conclusion of Mr. Trentham’s lecture and Louisa announced that refreshments would be served. As we filed into the adjoining room, the footmen removed the chairs and returned the sofa and other furniture to the drawing room while it was empty.

  I accepted a cup of tea from a footman but did not want anything to eat. Cyclops and Duke made a beeline for the table along with Fabian and most of the other guests. Willie beat them all.

  “Mrs. Glass?” came a soft voice from behind me.

  I turned to see Mr. Trentham smiling tentatively. I put out my hand. “I’m pleased to meet you. Thank you for your lecture. It was enlightening.”

  His cheeks flushed and he shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s the best I can do. My magic is rather weak, so I tried to make it more interesting by telling a few stories. I’ve never done this sort of thing before. I’m afraid I’m not a lecturer.”

  “You’re a natural, and your magic is intriguing. I’m sure the children get great enjoyment from your toys.”

  “You’re too kind. My magic is nothing compared to yours.” He cleared his throat. “I heard about your extension spell, Mrs. Glass.”

  I sighed into my teacup.

  Mr. Trentham heard it and put his hands up in surrender. “Please, do not think I’m trying to ingratiate myself to you. I have no intention of asking you to extend my magic.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it.”

  “Mr. Charbonneau warned me not to.”

  I bit the inside of my lip to stop my smile.

  Fabian joined us, a questioning look on his face, but I didn’t get a chance to thank him for warning Mr. Trentham as others approached. They asked Mr. Trentham about his magic and toys.

  “Can you detect magic in other objects?” asked a woman.

  He nodded. “All magicians can feel magical warmth.”

  “Are you the only toy magician in London?” Sir Charles asked.

  “No.”

  A bespectacled fellow I’d seen at other club meetings handed Mr. Trentham a glass filled with amber liquid. “Have you ever tried frightening someone by making the doll move with a spell? You know, without touching it and while you’re standing on the other side of the room.”

  “That would be a lark,” his female companion said, laughing.

  “I can’t do that,” Mr. Trentham said, apologetically.

  The man’s face fell. “Pity.”

  Mrs. Delancey muscled her way between two other members. One of them had to lean back to avoid being poked in the eye by the feather in her headdress. “Are any of your pieces for sale?” she asked.

  Mr. Trentham nodded. “Would you like to inspect them?”

  “Yes, please.”

  They led the way to Mr. Trentham’s toy chest with a trail of onlookers in tow. He could make quite a tidy sum tonight if he played his cards right.

  I found myself standing very near Hope as she watched the procession return to the drawing room. “You’re not purchasing anything?” I asked her. “A gift for your husband, perhaps?”

  “He adds to his collection as he sees fit.” She somehow managed to seem as though she were looking down her nose at me despite being shorter. “Nor would he advise undertaking transactions at a gathering such as this. A private negotiation is more his style.”

  “I suppose he can use whatever tactics he likes in private without receiving the censure of the crowd.”

  She stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means precisely what you think it means. Your husband is ruthless. He does and says whatever is necessary to get what he wants without concern for those he walks over.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I stepped toward her, stopping very close, and did not bend to her level. She had to crane her neck to meet my gaze. “I know your husband’s tactics rather well, as it happens. I’d have a care if I were you, Hope, or he might walk over you too.”

  The gleam in her eyes turned hard. “Or he might teach me how to get what I want.”

  We didn’t stay much longer and arrived home before Matt returned from Lord Farnsworth’s club. Duke and Cyclops went to bed at midnight, but Willie and I waited up. By one-thirty, I was beginning to think Matt had found it necessary to join Farnsworth and the home secretary’s friend in some nocturnal adventure or other. I only hoped it didn’t involve too much imbibing, given Matt’s prior battles with drink.

  I was considering retiring when I heard the front door open. I’d sent Bristow to bed some time ago, so Matt let himself in.

  “Thought I saw the light on in here,” he said, entering. He still wore his hat and coat as he tugged on his gloves to remove them. He leaned down to kiss me. “Good evening, Wife. Did you have a good night or did someone do or say something to ruin it?”

  “Was that directed at me?” Willie asked, sounding curious rather than defensive.

  “Not in particular, but it could be. Why? What did you do?”

  “Nothing! And that’s the God’s honest truth.”

  Matt seemed to be having trouble getting the glove off his right hand so I helped him. “Have you been drinking?”

  He pulled his hand out of the glove then scrubbed it over his face. “Yes.”

  “Don’t lecture him, India,” Willie scolded. “He did what he had to do, ain’t that right, Matt?”

  “I was hardly scolding him,” I said, standing.

  Matt turned to Willie. “She wasn’t scolding me.”

  I helped him out of his coat then directed him to sit on the sofa. He slumped into it, gathering me around my waist as he did so, and drew me onto his lap. He gave me a devilish smile as his heated gaze dipped to my mouth.

  Willie made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. “You used to be able to hold your liquor better.”

  Matt settled me beside him. “I’m out of practice, but I’m not completely inebriated, either. You’re correct in saying that I drank more than I usually would. Farnsworth’s liver must be made of iron.”

  “What did you learn?” I asked.

  “That he drinks a lot.”

  I smiled. “I meant about Sir Charles and his knighthood.”
>
  “Nothing, yet. I merely laid down the groundwork with the home secretary’s friend. He promised to introduce me when the home secretary returns to the city.”

  “When will that be?”

  Matt shrugged.

  I sighed and took his hand. “Are you coming to bed or staying up awhile?”

  “To bed, definitely.” He rose and bade Willie goodnight.

  She shot to her feet. “That’s it? That’s all you learned?”

  Matt shrugged again. “Tonight was about getting the home secretary’s friend to trust me. I couldn’t come right out and ask how someone could receive a knighthood without being nominated through the usual channels. It would be too suspicious. Besides, he wouldn’t know, unless the home secretary confides in him.”

  “But what about Farnsworth’s day? Didn’t you ask him how it went?”

  “How what went?”

  “With the girl he was meeting. His future wife.”

  Matt gave his cousin a lopsided grin. “Jealous?”

  “No!” Willie crossed her arms over her chest. “Just curious.”

  Matt picked up his hat and pointed it at her. “If you are interested, you should make your feelings known to him. He might consider you a serious prospect.”

  “I ain’t jealous. I just don’t want to lose another friend to marriage. First you, next it’ll be Cyclops, then Farnsworth. At least I still got Duke, but he’s getting dull, too.”

  “Marriage is not a disease,” I said.

  “It’s worse. At least you can recover from a disease.” She stormed out of the sitting room.

  Matt chuckled as he dropped the hat on the sofa and circled his arms around my waist. He nuzzled my throat beneath my ear. “She is jealous,” he purred.

  I pulled away. “You shouldn’t encourage her to tell Farnsworth how she feels. He might not conform to some society norms, but he’s still an earl. He won’t wed someone like Willie.”

  He tightened his hold on my waist, drawing me against his body. “I don’t expect them to marry, but she might form a relationship with him. Now kiss me.”