"Affection? For me?" she scoffed. "You had to push him towards me, India."
"It was just a little nudge."
"It was blackmail. You threatened to expose a dreadful secret that could ruin him. It took that for him to propose."
"He proposed once before."
"Precisely. Before. Before he found out about my past indiscretion. I disgust him so much that once he found out, he had to be coerced into proposing again. He loathes what I did, and he loathes it even more that he had to marry me."
I took her hands in mine and didn't let go when she tried to pull away. "I don't see that. All I see is a man who didn't know how to set aside his pride and act on his feelings. I gave him a way to do it."
"Is that what you tell yourself to lessen the guilt?"
I deserved the verbal slap, but I wasn't giving in yet. Something Matt said occurred to me. "I don't believe he's dwelling on your past, Patience. Matt told me Lord Cox was happy at the wedding."
She looked away. "Things were fine, for a time."
"Until he received the letter from his half-brother?"
"Yes. But if he trusted me, loved me, he would have spoken to me about it. He would have shared the burden." Her chin shuddered and her eyes pooled with tears.
"Not if he's angry with himself. Angry and ashamed."
She blinked back her tears. "Why would he be angry with himself? It's not his fault."
"Because he married you despite knowing his father's terrible secret. This coldness is because he feels ashamed that he married you under false pretenses. Perhaps he feels he's no longer worthy of you. You are a baron's daughter and he's…well, he's the illegitimate son of a bigamist."
"D—do you really think so, India?"
"Yes." I squeezed her hands. "Speak to him. Reassure him that you love him anyway, and always will, no matter what happens. You will love him unconditionally, won't you?"
"Of course."
Lord Cox entered carrying a golden crown on a red velvet cushion. It was in remarkably good condition for its age, with hardly a scratch on it. The gold shone brightly around the garnet and tourmaline gemstones, as if it had been recently polished.
"It's lovely," I said. "What do you think, Matt?"
"A very fine piece," Matt said dutifully.
Lord Cox presented it to Matt. "You may pick it up, if you like."
Matt did so, turning it around and making a show of studying it. "How old is it?"
"About two hundred and twenty years."
"It has survived well. There's not a dent on it."
"It's kept in a locked box."
Matt handed the coronet to me. Luckily he kept hold of it because I immediately let go as faint magical warmth spread up my arm.
"Something wrong, Mrs. Glass?" Lord Cox asked.
"No." I took it from Matt and I brushed my thumb over the smooth golden surface, one of the garnets, then back to the gold again. The magic was definitely in the gold, not the jewel, but it was quite mild.
I placed the coronet on the cushion. "Thank you for showing us. Matt, shall we go?"
Lord Cox promised to let Matt know when he was meeting his half-brother and we departed.
"It was magical, wasn't it?" he asked as we headed down the front steps.
"How did you know?"
"The condition was far too good for something so old, even if it is kept in a box. Your reaction when you touched it was also a giveaway."
"I wonder what Lord Cox would think if he knew."
"Going by his reaction when you told him you were a magician, he wouldn't believe you."
"Lord Coyle would pay a tidy sum for something like that," I said. "Gold magic is incredibly rare." So we'd been informed by Mr. McArdle, a gold magician we'd met when we were searching for the mapmaker's apprentice. According to McArdle, gold magicians once knew a spell to make gold multiply, but the spell had been lost in ancient times. "If that coronet is only two hundred years old, then Mr. McArdle was wrong."
"The coronet could have been fashioned from an older artifact. The magic in it could be ancient."
"True. The residual heat did feel faint." I accepted his assistance up the step into the carriage. "Even so, best not to mention it to Lord Coyle. There's no telling what he'd do to get his hands on it."
We arrived home to find Willie, Aunt Letitia and Duke trying to cheer Cyclops up. Even Mrs. Potter seemed to have contributed to the effort in the only way she knew how, but the shortbread, slices of Madeira cake and sponge on Cyclops's plate hadn't been touched.
"What is it?" I asked, pausing in the doorway, hat pin and hat in hand.
"He's too good for Catherine," Aunt Letitia said huffily.
"It ain't her fault," Cyclops muttered.
"Let me rephrase. He's too good for the Masons. Horrid family. How could you be friends with them, India?"
"Did something happen at church?" Matt asked.
Cyclops had attended the Masons' local church instead of joining us at Grosvenor Chapel for the Sunday service that morning. "I shouldn't have gone," he said. "Everyone stared."
"You should have come with us," Aunt Letitia said.
"If he avoids them then they'll never get used to him." Duke picked up the plate and offered it to Cyclops. "Have one of Mrs. Potter's shortbread. They always make you feel better."
Cyclops accepted the plate but didn't eat.
Willie reached over and took the slice of sponge. "Duke's right. You got to go again. You ain't a quitter, Cyclops. Anyway, you got a right to go to any church you like. I say you go back there next Sunday and the Sunday after and the one after that."
"I don't want to go where I ain't wanted."
"You shouldn't care what people think." Willie took an enormous bite and a waterfall of crumbs cascaded onto her chest. "I don't."
Duke rolled his eyes.
Matt clapped Cyclops on the shoulder. "Willie's right, in a strange way."
Willie tossed Duke a smug look.
"This is about you and Catherine, not her family. Hear me out," he said when Cyclops protested. "If her family love her, and I believe they do…"
"They do," I chimed in.
"Then they'll accept you for her sake, if they see she loves you and you love her. Give it time. Be persistent but don't rush them. They'll come to see you for the good man you are. Everyone does."
Cyclops gave a deep sigh and a nod of thanks for Matt.
Willie went to take one of the shortbread, but Cyclops moved the plate out of her reach. "Mrs. Potter gave these to me," he said. "Get your own."
Willie pouted as she watched Cyclops eat one biscuit and pick up another. "You'll get fat."
He ate the second biscuit and smiled at her, his mouth full.
She humphed. "Mrs. Potter never bakes me shortbread when I got romantic troubles."
"See what we mean," Duke said to Cyclops. "Everyone likes you. Mrs. Potter doesn't try to feed everyone just because they're sad. Case in point." He indicated a morose Willie.