Chapter 9

Matt did not remain angry for long. His temper might flare when he was pushed, but it rarely ruled him and he was usually quick to release it. I, however, was still seething at dinnertime. I'd shed a tear when we arrived home, but when my tears abated, I became angry with Fabian.

He'd agreed that we wouldn't make new spells. He'd led me to believe he saw the dangers too, and that he wouldn't pressure me to resume our work. But all of his promises had been forgotten the moment an interesting prospect reared its head. My wishes had been discarded as if they didn't matter, my concerns swept aside.

It felt like a betrayal. I was beginning to wonder if Fabian saw me as a friend at all.

I changed for dinner and met the others in the drawing room before going in. Aunt Letitia wasn't there, but Cyclops had finished work for the day and Willie had returned too.

I threw my arms around her and hugged her fiercely. "Duke told us what you did to stop Abercrombie. You are a true friend, Willie. A true, dear friend."

She drew away and clasped my arms. "Want me to punch Charbonneau for you too?"

"So they told you."

Matt took my hand and kissed my forehead. "Are you all right?"

"I will be, although Willie's offer sounds attractive."

Willie cracked her knuckles.

"She was just telling us how the police interviewed Abercrombie but let him go," Matt said.

I sighed. "That was to be expected, I suppose. He wouldn't do anything against the law."

"Not in front of independent witnesses." Willie stabbed a finger in Cyclops's direction. "But your lot should investigate him. I reckon he's saying one thing in public and another in private to rile up the younger members of the craft guild."

"'My lot' are doing their best," Cyclops said. "We have to operate within the law."

"They should send a spy into his camp, someone in disguise who can listen in to conversations and report back."

Cyclops put up his hands. "Don't look at me. I'm too conspicuous."

"And Abercrombie knows you," Duke added. "He knows all of us."

The dinner gong sounded and we filed through to the dining room where Aunt Letitia joined us. "Why all the long faces?" she asked as the soup course was served.

"We're worried about the missing Mr. Pyke," I reminded her.

"Yes, of course, dreadful business. But I'm sure he'll turn up, having had an adventure. Willemina, you look particularly gloomy this evening. Are you unwell?"

"I'm fine," Willie mumbled.

I tried to catch Aunt Letitia's attention to warn her not to bring up the subject of Brockwell and his abrupt departure after talking to Willie the night before, but she didn't notice.

"You must call on the detective inspector after dinner. He always cheers you up."

"No he doesn't," Willie snapped. "Not always."

"Well, nearly—"

"What have you been doing today, Aunt?" Matt asked. "Did you go out for a walk?"

Her lips pursed at being politely but forcefully diverted from a potential intrigue. "I did, and then I attended to some correspondence. One letter in particular caught my eye. My friend, Lady Sloane, has a niece who'll have her first season this year."

"Season of what?" Duke asked.

"The season."

Duke gave her a blank look.

"She'll be presented," Aunt Letitia went on.

"Presented?"

"At court. It means she'll be out."

"Out of what?"

Aunt Letitia returned to her soup. "Honestly, Duke, you're so American. Tell him, Cyclops. But first, take your elbow off the table."

Cyclops sat back and lowered his arms. "When a young lady of good breeding turns eighteen or thereabouts, she comes to London and makes her debut. She's presented at court then spends the spring and summer attending social engagements—balls, dinners, afternoon teas, races, and soirees." He waved a hand in the air to indicate the events went on and on. "It's a way of signaling the young lady is hunting for a husband, and the social occasions give her an opportunity to catch one."

Duke stared at him with his mouth ajar. "Did they teach you this in the police school?"

Cyclops indicated Aunt Letitia. "Miss Glass taught me."

Aunt Letitia patted her mouth with her napkin. "Although I made it sound less like a blood sport."

"So what did your friend say in her letter?" I asked.

"Lady Sloane said her niece is quite pretty and very accomplished, although somewhat unconventional."

Willie passed her empty plate to the footman collecting the dishes. "Is that code for being as mad as a wild hog?"

Aunt Letitia gave Willie a withering glare. "It might be. Or it could simply mean she has opinions."

"God help us," Willie muttered at the ceiling.

Duke kicked her under the table, but it was not at all subtle and we all noticed.

"Lady Sloane has asked if she can call on me when she arrives in London with her niece," Aunt Letitia said. "I thought she could come for afternoon tea."

"I'd be delighted to meet them both," I said. I hoped Mr. Pyke would be found by then so that I could give my full attention to Aunt Letitia's friend. As the wife of the heir to the Rycroft title, I was probably expected to entertain from time to time throughout the season, although I wasn't sure if anyone would particularly care about us. We weren't important people in society.

"If we like the girl, we'll introduce her to Lord Farnsworth," Aunt Letitia said.

Willie humphed loudly.

Aunt Letitia pretended not to notice. "If we like her, and she's not too unconventional, then we'll arrange a dinner and invite them both."

"Shouldn't the decision of whether she's too unconventional for his taste be made by him?" I asked.

"Oh, India. You know nothing about matchmaking. I'm very good at it, as you well know. Look at you and Matthew."

If it had been left to her, Matt would have married a lady from a good family and I would have been relegated to the staff quarters. Her memory was selective and it was perhaps best not to dredge up the time when she was against me marrying Matt.

Willie humphed again.

"Is something the matter?" I asked her.

She crossed her arms. "No."

Something was bothering her, but I waited until Peter the footman finished collecting our empty bowls and left the room. "Are you worried that Lord Farnsworth will fall in love with the girl?" I asked quietly.

"No! I ain't jealous, India. Not like that." She leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. "Marriage is just so final. And Farnsworth himself said he reckons he's not cut out for it."

Aunt Letitia poked her fork into Willie's arm. "Elbows off the table. As to Lord Farnsworth's opinion of marriage, he will change his mind. He must. It's his duty. Anyway, he just needs to find the right lady. Perhaps this girl will be her."

"Marriage ain't for everyone, Letty."

Aunt Letitia picked up her wine glass and peered at her over the rim. "As a spinster, I am well aware of that. You and I are cut from different cloth to most, however, and neither of us are expected to find husbands. Not at our age."

Willie frowned. "Are you calling me old?"

Peter returned carrying a covered tray. "Lovely! The main course has arrived," Aunt Letitia said with far more enthusiasm than she'd ever greeted a meal before.

"I could get a husband if I wanted."

"Aye," Duke said with a wink for Cyclops. "Two, according to the Romany fortune teller."

"Preferably not at the same time," Aunt Letitia added under her breath.

* * *

We had just finishedan early breakfast the following morning and were about to discuss what to do next in the search for Mr. Pyke when Bristow entered the library and announced the arrival of Fabian.

"Tell him to go away," Willie said. "He ain't welcome here."

I'd calmed down overnight and although I didn't like how vehement Fabian had been, I didn't want to fall out over our disagreement. But perhaps I was being too generous. "Matt? What do you think?"

He closed the notebook in which he'd been making notes about the case. "I think it's up to you. I won't pretend I like how he spoke to you yesterday, but I won't hold it against him if you want to give him a chance to apologize."

I turned to Bristow. "Send him in."

Willie and Duke shook their heads at my decision.

If Fabian had kept his hat instead of giving it to Bristow at the front door, I suspected he'd be worrying the brim with both hands as he entered the library. He could barely meet my eye as he stopped near the door.

He waited for Bristow to leave then finally lifted his gaze to mine. He swallowed hard, as if there were a lump in his throat, and stuttered through an apology. "It was terrible of me to speak to you that way, India. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, although I do not expect it."

"Good," Willie muttered.

"I won't pretend I wasn't upset by yesterday's encounter," I said. "I thought you agreed with me that we should not create new spells."

"I did agree." He sighed. "I thought I agreed."

"But when a new and exciting opportunity rose, you changed your mind."

"I am not strong like you, India. I cannot resist the calling within me." He tapped his fist against his chest. "I ache to perform magic."

"Then perform it. No one is suggesting you stop manipulating iron, just as I have not stopped tinkering with timepieces."

"It is not enough."

"It has to be enough, because creating spells could bring danger to the world. I don't want that on my conscience. Do you?"

He released a breath then finally shook his head. "Do I have your forgiveness?"

I gave him a tentative smile, not yet ready to welcome him into our home with open arms. "You do."

He released a breath. "And yours, Glass?"

"You don't need mine," Matt said.

"But I do! As India's husband, your opinion matters."

"I told you yesterday, India is capable of making her own decisions."

"Nevertheless, I would like your forgiveness too." Fabian put out his hand.

For one long moment, I thought Matt would refuse to shake it, but he eventually took it. They didn't exchange smiles or any other words and both stepped away when they released hands, like pugilists returning to their corner between rounds. Fabian didn't offer his hand to either Duke or Willie, which was probably just as well as I suspected they might snub him, going by their scowls.

"Please take a seat, Fabian," I said. "We were just discussing what we know so far about Mr. Pyke's disappearance."

Fabian hitched up his trouser legs and sat. "Then what I have to say will interest you. I did not come here just to apologize, although that was the most pressing reason. Something troubling has occurred."

"What is it?"

He rubbed a jawline peppered with dark stubble and flicked an anxious glance at Matt. He was worried about Matt's reaction. Now I was even more intrigued. "The flying rug was stolen last night."

"What?" Matt exploded.

I rested a hand on his arm and I think it stopped him from getting to his feet and standing over Fabian in a threatening manner. But only just, if the vibrations coursing through him were an indication.

Duke swore under his breath. "That ain't good."

"How could it be stolen?" I asked. "It's a large rug and was on your floor with furniture covering it. You would have heard something."

"It was that servant girl, weren't it?" Willie asked. "The one you've been spending your nights with. Was it her? Or was she a decoy?"

Fabian's face flushed. He hadn't known that we knew about his relationship with his maid. "The carpet wasn't in the house. After I retrieved it from the paddock near Brighton, it didn't clean very well. It was in no condition to be in my drawing room, so I stored it in the stables."

Matt groaned and rubbed his forehead. "You stored the most important magical object in the world in an insecure area."

"You idiot!" Willie blurted out.

"The stables are locked at night," Fabian said. "And the stable boy is always there. It was taken in the evening when I was out and the coachman with me."

"And the stable boy?" Matt asked.

Fabian sank into the chair. "Asleep."

Duke and Willie muttered under their breaths.

Matt merely sighed. "Have you questioned him this morning? Are there any clues? Witnesses?"

"The boy says he heard a noise, but did not know the time. I have not asked the outdoor servants from other houses. They always give me odd looks, because I am French. That's why I came here. You are English and experts at asking questions. Also, the theft could be tied to Pyke's disappearance."

I gasped as it dawned on me that he could be right.

Matt had clearly already made the connection. He didn't look at all shocked. "If the two incidents are linked—and I think they are—then there are two scenarios," he said. "Either Coyle kidnapped Pyke then stole the carpet for Pyke to use in some magical way, or, if Pyke was kidnapped by someone else, he told them about the carpet and they subsequently stole it."

"But only India can make the carpet fly," Duke said. "Why bother with Pyke at all?"

"Only I can make it fly with passengers," I pointed out. "With the new moving spell, Mr. Pyke should be able to make the carpet fly but without any weight on it."

Fabian agreed with Matt. "Coyle stole the spell and carpet and kidnapped Pyke. It must be him. Who else?"

"Who else indeed, but we only think Coyle has all three. We have no proof."

Willie had been drumming her fingers on the chair arm, but suddenly stopped. "It could be Pyke himself. He could be hiding out somewhere. Maybe he stole it for himself, not for someone else, and has plans to make flying carpets and sell them."

Duke pulled a face. "Why would he do that? His magic won't last and no one can sit on the rugs while it flies. What's the point of a flying rug if you can't ride it?"

"Novelty gift value," Willie said, as if he were a fool. "Corsets or spinning tops don't have a function, but they're sold the world over."

"Some would disagree about them not having a function," I said.

"What about stuffed animals dressed like humans?" She arched her brow at me. "Curiosities sell, especially to fools with too much money."

She did have a point.

Fabian appeared to be slowly warming to the idea. "Pyke wanted a copy of the spell after we made it."

Matt wasn't convinced, however. "You're forgetting a few key clues. By all accounts, Pyke was worried on the afternoon of his disappearance after he was visited by someone in a carriage. He also told Mrs. Fuller that he was being followed by a man with dark hair, streaked with gray."

The more I thought about it, the more I agreed with him. "Mr. Pyke wouldn't abandon his wife. Not so he could secretly sell off magic carpets. Besides, what would he need that particular carpet for? If he stole the spell, he could just use it on any carpet of his own making. Why did he need to steal that one?"

"Because the magic in it is stronger than anything he could do on his own," Matt said slowly. "You're right, India. He doesn't want to just sell magic flying carpets. He needs that particular one. Or somebody does."

Our gazes met. We both thought it was Lord Coyle but didn't say his name. I wanted to keep an open mind at this point, and I suspected Matt did too.

"There is one thing we can be sure about now," Matt said. "Pyke probably wasn't kidnapped by a rival artless rug maker out of jealousy. That eliminates a lot of suspects, including Abercrombie."

Willie wrinkled her nose. "Abercrombie's still guilty of being an ass."

"I think we can also safely say Pyke has not come to harm," Matt went on. "Whoever stole the spell has most likely also stolen the rug, and they need Pyke and his magic. As long as they need him, he'll be safe."

But what happened if he couldn't do what his kidnapper wanted? What happened if they thought he could fly the rug with passengers then learned he couldn't?

I pressed a hand to my throat and my eyes unexpectedly welled with tears. I hardly knew the man, but in a way, I was responsible for his fate. The moment Fabian and I had enlisted his help with the flying wool spell, we'd put him in danger.

Matt crouched beside me and gathered my hands in his. "He's alive, India. We'll do our best to keep it that way."

Duke suddenly got to his feet and stalked to the window. He pulled the curtains closed, plunging the room into near-darkness.

"What'd you do that for?" Willie cried.

"Y'all have forgotten something."

Matt rose but kept hold of one of my hands. "What?"

"If the kidnapper realizes Pyke can't make the carpet fly with passengers on it, and Pyke tells him it's because his magic isn't strong enough, what's to stop Pyke from keeping India's name out of it? Who's to say he won't tell his kidnapper that he needs India?"

"Mon dieu," Fabian murmured. "The kidnapper may come for India next."

Matt squeezed my hand and held on tightly. My own hand began to shake.