The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele Book 1) (15 page)

"Come now, Miss Johnson," he said, "where's that American pluck you displayed the past few nights. You're not a coward, are you?"

Willie bristled. "Of course not."

I pressed Willie's shoulder. "You don't have any more money," I hissed. "Let's go."

"I have this." She pulled out a chain from beneath her shirt, at the end of which dangled a gold locket the size of a farthing. "My grandmother gave it to me before she died. It was her wedding present from my grandfather. It's all I have of them."

Travers looked disappointed. "Sure you want to wager it?"

Willie hesitated then nodded. She held it out for Travers to inspect.

He weighed it in his palm before opening it and inspecting the miniatures inside. "A handsome couple. I accept."

"Willie, is that wise?" I whispered. "What if you lose it?"

"I won't lose."

Lord Travers placed the locket with Willie's coins and rested his hand on the seat next to his thigh. "We'll see, shall we?" He returned both hands to his cards, fanning them out on the table. "Full house."

I'd not seen that combination of cards all night, but I knew it must be good. Willie's white face confirmed it. She looked like she would faint as she stared hard at her own cards, perhaps willing them to be better.

With a click of her tongue, she threw her cards on the table. She stood, shoving back her chair. "You cheated!"

Lord Travers laughed as he scooped his winnings toward him. Willie's locket glinted in the light. "Now, now, Miss Johnson. Don't be a sore loser."

"You cheated!" she shouted again. "You had a card under your leg. I saw you remove it and add it to your hand!"

Travers slipped the locket into his dinner jacket pocket. "What rot. Did I cheat, gentlemen?"

The other gamblers shook their heads.

"Stand up!" Willie growled. "You must have placed the card you removed from your original hand somewhere. Let's see under your fat ass."

"Willie!" I tugged on her arm, but she shook me off. "Please let's go."

"Listen to your friend, Miss Johnson." Travers collected the cards on the table and shuffled them. "Be a good girl and go home before you say something you regret." He stopped shuffling and eyed me. "Unless you're willing to wager something else."

I straightened. "That's quite enough of that. You may be a lord, but your behavior is deplorable. As is yours, sir," I spat at Lord Dennison.

Travers laughed around the cigar in his mouth, sending ash onto his lap. "Hear that, Dennison? The little chit thinks she can lecture
us
. She deserves a good spanking to be put back in her place."

I gasped and looked to Mr. Unger for assistance, but he merely shrugged an apology. I would get no help from him. Travers was worth too much to his business to risk offending him. And Mr. Dorchester, my only champion, was gone.

I grabbed Willie's arm. "Let's go. Now!"

But she didn't move. She bared her teeth and pointed her finger at Travers. "You're a low down dirty cheat and I will prove it. Stand up!"

Travers sprawled in his chair and grinned around his cigar. "Make me, little girl."

"Oh, I will, with the help of my friend, Mr. Colt." Willie jerked her coat aside and pulled out the gun tucked into the waistband of her trousers.

Several men fell back, bumping into one another in their haste to remove themselves from the vicinity, but none left the room. All were glued to the scene.

"Willie, no!" I cried. "Don't!"

But I might as well not have spoken. "Stand up, Travers," she said.

He placed his hand on the seat near his thigh again. "It's 'my lord' to you, miss, and no, I will not."

"For God's sake, move!" I shouted at him. "She
will
use it."

"I'm not afraid of a girl," Travers said with a chuckle.

Willie squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened. She frowned and inspected the cylinder. She spun it round and round. It was empty. "Damn him!"

My heart sank. Mr. Glass must have removed the bullets after the shooting episode of the previous night. I wanted to swear as loudly as Willie. While I didn't want her to shoot anyone, we now had no weapons to defend ourselves. And the men knew it. They advanced.

Lord Dennison and his friend, Smythe-something-or-other, grinned like madmen and approached with slow, predatory steps. Dennison rubbed his crotch. Travers sat back and watched, smiling with those fishy, wet lips of his.

"That's it, gentlemen," he said, chomping down on his cigar. "Teach 'em how to respect us."

"On your knees," Dennison ordered, pointing at me. He fumbled with the opening of his trousers and his tongue darted out to lick his top lip.

His companion wiped beads of sweat from his brow. His breathing became ragged. I glanced at the men behind them, but none came to our aid. All watched with keen interest. This nightmare couldn't be happening. Surely I would wake up soon. My weak knees were very real, however, and so were the men leering at us with lust in their eyes.

I touched Willie's hand. Her fingers curled around mine and gripped hard. My heart plunged to my toes. I'd hoped she had something up her sleeve, but it would seem the gun had been her only security guard. Without it, she was as vulnerable as me. We were two women up against more than a dozen men, and she was as terrified as me. We didn't stand a chance.

"
H
ow is your aim
?" I whispered to Willie.

"Why?" she whispered back, her voice shaky.

Dennison wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing saliva across his cheek. He grinned, a distorted stretch of thin lips.

"Get on with it, man," Travers urged him. "I want to keep playing."

"Throw the gun," I whispered to Willie.

I thought she'd protest, but she wasted no time hurling her weapon at Dennison.

He ducked, lost his balance, and fell to his side. The gun clattered to the floor, where it skidded under a table. Willie swore. Travers roared with laughter.

"Stupid whore!" Dennison shouted. "You missed."

He lurched to his feet. There wasn't a moment to lose. I reached behind me and snatched the carriage clock off the mantel. It felt solid, reassuring. The gold plating heated my skin and glowed in the candlelight. I threw it at Dennison's head. He saw it coming and ducked again, but the clock suddenly dropped too. It hit him square on the forehead. He fell back, unconscious.

"Bloody good arm," Travers said with admiration as he surveyed Dennison's prone form.

"Run!" I shouted.

Willie and I ran for the unattended door. Mr. Unger didn't try to stop us. Thankfully, no one did. Willie pulled open the door. I glanced back to see a collection of gentlemen gathered around Dennison, helping him to sit up. Blood trickled from his head wound, but he was alive, thank goodness.

A bell clanged and the porter at the base of the stairs opened the door there. Mr. Glass strolled through, holding a lantern.

"Matt!" Willie cried.

He lifted the lantern high. It illuminated the hard planes of his face and the black pools of his eyes. "Finally," he ground out. "I've been looking—"

"Yes, yes." Willie rushed down the stairs and met him half way. "Make yourself useful and fetch my revolver for me. It's up there, under a table."

Mr. Glass looked to me and then back to his cousin. His face darkened. "Why is your revolver not with you?"

"There's no time to explain." She shoved him. "Go!"

"No," I said as Mr. Glass climbed the stairs toward me. "Leave the gun." I glanced behind me, but the doorway was unattended. No one chased us.

I tried to push past Mr. Glass, but he caught my arm. "What is going on?" His voice sounded strained, tight, and a little tired.

"Matt will be fine," Willie assured me. "No one will try anything with him, and if they do, he'll just throw a punch or two. Won't you, Matt?"

Mr. Glass went very still. He stood two steps below me, bringing our faces level. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing, and his gaze bored into mine, as if he could dig out answers. I swallowed and considered heading back into the gambling room. It could be safer.

"Stay here," he growled. "I want an explanation upon my return."

He let me go and pushed past me. He only got as far as the doorway, however. Mr. Unger stood there with Willie's gun. He handed it to Mr. Glass.

"Do not return, Miss Johnson," he said to Willie. "This establishment can't afford to attract unwanted attention." To me, he said, "You should have stayed home, miss. Places like this are not for gently bred women." He slammed the door in Mr. Glass's face.

Matt whirled around. The lantern light swung in an arc, and the handle squeaked with the violent movement. "Get out. Now. Both of you."

The porter held the door open for us. We hurried through the boot maker's shop, where the other porter let us out to the street. Cyclops leaned against the carriage but straightened upon seeing us.

"That was fast," he said.

"We were on our way out when Mr. Glass arrived," I told him.

Cyclops lowered the step, and held the door open for me, but moved to the driver's seat when Mr. Glass ordered him to prepare to leave immediately. Willie followed me inside, and Mr. Glass came in behind her and suspended the lantern from the hook by the door.

He thumped the ceiling and Cyclops drove off. He sat on the seat opposite Willie and me as the coach rolled away from the curb. "Explain."

Willie
humphed
and held out her hand. "Give me my Colt."

"Not until I get a satisfactory explanation."

"You explain," Willie spat. "Why did you remove the bullets?"

"To avoid you winding up on a murder charge."

"You left me unarmed!"

"If you stayed in at night, you wouldn't need to be armed."

She crossed her arms and turned away from him. "You should have told me about the bullets," she mumbled at the wall.

Mr. Glass set his hat on the seat beside him and scrubbed his hand through his hair. "You're right. I shouldn't have left you vulnerable. But my opinion still stands—if you'd stayed away from the gambling houses, you wouldn't require a gun." He handed back the weapon.

"And my bullets?"

"Are at the house. I'll return them to you only if you promise not to gamble again."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"Matt! I can't! I have to win back my locket."

His jaw fell open. "You lost your locket? Christ, Willie, I'm sorry." He closed his eyes briefly. "But I can't allow you to attempt to win it back. Promise me you won't gamble again."

"Promise," she mumbled.

He sighed and his expression softened. "Your opponent must have been formidable to have beaten you."

Her lower lip wobbled. "He cheated."

"I think he did too," I said.

Mr. Glass pinched the bridge of his nose. "Now I know why you were attempting to use your Colt."

"Oh, that's not why," I said.

"Shhh," Willie hissed at the same time that Mr. Glass growled, "Then why?"

He glared at her. She looked out the window and sniffed. I rested a hand on her arm, but she shoved it off. "Leave me alone."

I endured her silence and Mr. Glass's glare for the rest of the short journey to his house.

Once inside, Duke greeted us with an equally formidable scowl. Willie tried to push past him, but he blocked her path.

"Move," she snapped. "I'm in no mood for your lectures."

"I don't care! You were supposed to be home hours ago."

"I've been out later than this before."

"Not with her, you haven't."

Willie turned her thunderous look onto me. I hardly thought it fair to blame me when she'd invited me to go with her. I thought it wise to keep quiet on the matter, however. Her mood was black enough, and there was no telling if she had another stash of bullets for that gun.

"Selfish, that's what you are," Duke went on.

Willie lips flattened, but Duke gave her no opportunity to cut in.

"Yes, you are. You're a selfish woman and it's time you were told. Matt does everything for you—"

"Enough, Duke," Mr. Glass chided. "Willie, go to bed. We'll talk in the morning."

"See!" Duke waved a hand at Mr. Glass. "See what you've done."

Willie and I both turned to face him. He scowled at Duke, but in the better light of the overhead chandelier, I could now see the gray pall of his jaw, the dark smudges beneath his eyes.

"You didn't rest, did you?" Willie said quietly.

He didn't answer.

She blinked rapidly and folded her arms across her body, as if warding off a chill. "Did you at least use the—" He cut her off with a shake of his head and a glance at me.

Her chin wobbled and her face crumpled. She threw herself at him and he caught her, staggering a little under her weight. "I'm sorry, Matt. I'm so sorry. I'll never take India to play poker again."

I stamped a hand on my hip.

"She wasn't even that good a distraction," she went on.

"Is that why you invited me along?" I asked, as Mr. Glass held her at arm's length.

"A good question," he growled.

She wiped her nose on her sleeve. "I thought Lord Travers would find her…interesting. Unfortunately he was too engrossed in the game to pay her more than cursory attention."

"You
used
me!"

Willie merely shrugged. "I think I'll go to bed now. Matt, you must too. There's no point in staying up longer. Understand?" Her gaze flicked to me then back to him. Clearly she didn't want me detailing the evening's events to him.

He kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Willie," he said on an exasperated sigh.

"Why are you being so nice to her?" Duke said once she'd gone. "After your ranting and raving for the last hour, I thought you'd be sending her to her room for a week."

"I have no authority to send her anywhere," Mr. Glass said. "She can do as she pleases. Besides, she's suffered enough tonight. She lost her locket."

"Hell." Duke's tapped his head back and shook it at the ceiling. "She'll want to win it back."

"I made her promise not to try."

"You think that'll stop her?"

"She's never broken a promise to me before."

Duke sighed. "You have more faith in her than I do."

"Therein lies your problem, Duke."

Duke grunted. "I'll wager you had quite a dull night, Miss Steele. Willie's not good company when she's got the gambling fever."

"Dull is certainly not a word I would use to describe our evening. It was anything but."

"Care to explain why Willie's Colt was under the table?" Mr. Glass asked. "And why you were both fleeing when I met you?"

"Fleeing?" Duke echoed.

"I also heard a thud," Mr. Glass said.

"That was the sound of Lord Dennison falling to the floor," I said.

Mr. Glass raised his brows. Duke gawped. "Why'd he hit the floor?" Duke asked.

"A clock hit him in the head."

Mr. Glass and Duke exchanged mysterious glances. "How?" Mr. Glass pressed.

"I threw it."

"Why?"

"He was paying me some unwanted attention. I suspect he was also drunk."

"Bloody hell." Mr. Glass searched my face, his eyes sharper than they'd been since entering the house. "Miss Steele, tell me honestly. Are you unharmed?"

"I am."

He blew out a measured breath then shot a glare up the staircase in the direction Willie had gone.

"Don't blame her," I said. "It's not her fault. The blame rests entirely on the shoulders of Lord Dennison and his friend. They're not gentlemen at all. I've known vagrants with better manners."

Mr. Glass bowed his head but not before he closed his eyes. He really ought to be in bed, or using his special watch. Perhaps both.

"Let's return to the clock," Duke said with earnest. "So you threw it and it hit that fellow?"

"Yes."

"Did it feel…odd to you?"

"In what way?"

"Did it sort of…fly of its own accord?"

"No." I laughed. "I threw it."

"Did it feel warm to touch? Did it glow?"

"That's enough, Duke," Mr. Glass said. "Miss Steele is tired and your questions are confusing her."

"But—"

Mr. Glass laid a hand on Duke's arm. They exchanged no words, but an understanding seemed to pass between them.

Duke sighed. "Goodnight, Miss Steele."

I watched him go, trying to fathom what he meant by his questions, and how he'd known the clock had felt warm. Was it special, like Mr. Glass's watch? If so, how and why? What metal had the watchmaker used? I'd never seen the likes of it.

Mr. Glass seemed determined that I not be given any answers to my questions. That only made me more curious. They were all hiding a secret. If it didn't have anything to do with timepieces, I probably wouldn't have cared so much, but since a watch was involved, and now a clock, I wanted to know quite badly. But I would get nothing from him.

"Do you require hot chocolate?" Mr. Glass's rich, melodic voice rumbled across the space between us.

"No, thank you. I'm all right."

His searching gaze studied every inch of my face. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. Something Duke had said occurred to me. "Why were you ranting and raving earlier?"

Several heartbeats passed before he responded. "Because you didn't return."

"But Willie says she's been out later than this and you've never worried so much."

"Willie dresses like a man and acts like a man. That keeps her safe. You, however, cannot hide your womanliness. Or your vulnerability. Is it so terrible that I was worried about you?"

My heart skipped to a mad tune in my chest. It was deeply satisfying to know he'd been concerned for my wellbeing, and yet it didn't quite make sense. We hardly knew one another. Perhaps he was presenting a façade again, but for what end, I couldn't fathom.

I began unbuttoning my coat, only to freeze when Mr. Glass slipped in behind me. His fingers brushed my neck above my collar and settled on my shoulders. He did not remove my coat but bent his head to mine.

"You haven't answered me," he murmured.

"I…I…" What was his question again?

"Cat got your tongue, Miss Steele?" His breath fanned my hair at the nape of my neck. If I leaned back, just a little, would he move away? Or would he allow me to rest against his chest?

"I can assure you I won't be gambling again," I said, my voice breathy.

He drew the coat off my shoulders and down my arms, slowly. "Good." His voice vibrated through my body. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Why?" I simply
had
to know or be eaten up with curiosity. If he was only pretending to flirt with me, I wanted to catch him out. I didn't want to be made a fool of again. "What does it matter to you?"

He slipped the coat over my hands, but did not remove it entirely. I was trapped by my own clothing, yet I felt no panic and no vulnerability. This man wouldn't harm me. Why I felt so certain of that, I didn't know. While my head was telling me to run to my room, every other piece of me wanted to remain.

"You're living under my roof, for the time being," he murmured. "It's my duty to protect every member of this household. Including you, Miss Steele."

"It's not necessary." I hardly knew what I was saying anymore. My mind was filled with a fog that made it difficult to think beyond the present, heady moment. "Does a landlord care what his lodger does in the evenings?"

"You are not my lodger."

"Employee then. Until Tuesday, that is."