“I’ll meet Farnsworth at the club tomorrow night,” Matt went on.
Willie retired to her room, and Duke bade us goodnight a few minutes later. Matt and I snuggled on the sofa until the fire died down to glowing embers then he kissed the top of my head and unseated me from his lap.
He rose and extended his hand to me. “We’ll find out more soon enough,” he said.
I accepted his hand and stood. “I do hope so. I’m wildly curious about her.”
He frowned. “Her?”
“Lord Farnsworth’s prospective wife. Oh. You were referring to Sir Charles again, weren’t you?”
“Just something slightly more important than the future Lady Farnsworth.”
“Of course it is. Although it’s not necessarily more interesting.”
The following afternoon, after returning from a walk with Aunt Letitia, I was met by a frantic visitor upon our arrival at the Park Street house. Louisa—Lady Hollingbroke—was about to step into her carriage when she spotted us approaching along the pavement.
“India, thank goodness you’ve returned.” She gave Aunt Letitia a cursory greeting out of politeness but her entire attention focused on me. “Please, come with me. We must hurry.”
“What is it, Louisa? What’s happened?”
“My dear, you’ll do yourself harm with your fretting,” Aunt Letitia cut in before Louisa could respond. “Do come inside and have tea. The problem will seem less important after a soothing cup.”
Louisa ignored her and clasped my hand. “Come, India, before Oscar does something he’ll regret.”
“Why? What’s he about to do?”
“Confront Sir Charles Whittaker.”
“Oh dear,” Aunt Letitia muttered.
I gasped. “Is this about Sir Charles setting a thug upon him in the lane on the day Lord Coyle married Hope?”
“That, and the fact he blames Sir Charles for costing him his job at the paper,” Louisa said. “There’s no time to explain. You must come. I tried to talk him out of it, but he won’t listen to me. I do think he’ll listen to you, however. He respects your opinion.”
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.