“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.”
I put a finger to his lips before he planted them on my mouth. “And what about Detective Inspector Brockwell?”
He sighed. “He knows he can’t monopolize her. Can we stop talking about Willie and her overly complicated romantic liaisons and start talking about what I’d like to do to you when I get you into the bedroom?”
I gave him a sly smile. “Don’t talk, just show me.”
His lips brushed mine in a tender kiss that promised much more. “As you command, Mrs. Glass.”
The following morning was another gloomy day. A letter came for Aunt Letitia from her sister-in-law, Lady Rycroft, saying she and Charity were returning to London. They found the country too provincial and lacking in sophisticated society. Most of their friends wouldn’t have returned to the city yet, but a few were trickling back now that Christmas festivities were behind us.
“What about my uncle?” Matt asked.
“He’s not coming,” Aunt Letitia said, scanning the letter again. “Beatrice says she cannot wait to see Hope. She has some suggestions for guests she ought to invite to a dinner party.”
“Coyle will enjoy that,” Matt muttered.
“What about Patience?” I asked. “Any word about her and Byron?”
“She doesn’t mention them.”
It was as if Patience no longer existed. Ever since her husband had his title stripped away and given to his older half-brother, Lady Rycroft barely acknowledged her eldest daughter’s existence. She might as well be dead. Lady Rycroft probably preferred she had died to the scandal that ensued.
Matt, standing behind me, gently squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t worry about them. They have one another, and I suspect Patience likes being out of her mother’s sphere anyway.”
Bristow entered the drawing room and announced the arrival of Fabian. He’d barely finished speaking when Fabian pushed past him. He breathed heavily, as if he’d been running, and his face was flushed.
“Bristow, fetch Mr. Charbonneau a glass of water,” I said.
“Have you been exerting yourself?” Aunt Letitia asked with a slight wrinkle of her nose.
Fabian offered a shallow bow. “My apologies for my state, Miss Glass. I am in disarray.” He smoothed down his hair and fidgeted with his tie. “I could not wait for the carriage to be prepared so walked here, very quickly.”
“Fabian, what is the matter?” I asked.
He turned to Matt. “Glass, I have a job for you. An investigation.”
“Into what?” Matt asked.
“A theft.” Fabian swallowed and settled his anxious gaze on me. “Your spell has been stolen, India.”
Chapter 3
“Stolen!” I pressed a hand to my rapidly beating heart. “When?”
“Last night,” Fabian said. “The maid discovered the top drawer of my desk open and everything inside it missing.”
“The spell wasn’t in your safe?”
“No. It was in the drawer, but it was locked. All the papers in the drawer were stolen, and the spell was hidden among them. The thief got in through the sitting room window on the ground floor.”
Matt swore under his breath, earning a glare from Aunt Letitia. “If you’d given me the spell when India first asked, it would have been safe.”
“Matt,” I scolded. “That’s not fair. It could just as easily have been stolen from here.”
He gave me a look that said he doubted it, but he kept the thought to himself, thankfully. Fabian didn’t look as though he needed further censure. He dragged a trembling hand through his hair, only straightening when Bristow entered with a glass of water on a tray.
“Have you questioned the servants?” Matt asked.
Fabian accepted the glass. “Not thoroughly.”
“Bristow, have the carriage brought around. India, are you coming?”
“Of course,” I said, rising. “Should we send word to Brockwell?”
“Not yet.”
“Nobody else should know,” Fabian said. “This is magical business.”
“Detective Inspector Brockwell understands magic,” I told him. “You remember how discreet he was after the affair with Amelia Moreton. He hushed up the magical element to the case.”
“He is still artless.”
“As is Matt.”
Matt settled a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll notify Brockwell if we need his resources. For now, we’ll keep this to ourselves. The fewer people who know, the better. I don’t want someone like Coyle getting even a hint of it.”
“Coyle may already know,” Fabian said darkly.
My heart skipped a beat. He was right. The most likely person to steal the spell was Lord Coyle. Nobody else knew what Fabian and I had created, although many knew that we’d been working together to create spells. It was possible they suspected we’d lied, and decided to see for themselves, and had been lucky enough to stumble across the spell. But what would they do with it once they got it?
I voiced my concern once we were ensconced in the carriage and on our way to Fabian’s townhouse near Berkeley Square. “Why would anyone bother to steal it? It’s useless to anyone but me.”