The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(2)

Willie picked up another sausage from her plate with her fingers and bit off the end, all while shooting Miss Glass a triumphant look.

"You are family, after all," he went on.

Willie choked and spat out the half-eaten sausage.

"We are not blood related," Miss Glass said. "That's an important distinction."

"Sure is," Willie said.

Miss Glass sighed. "Very well, she can walk with me."

"Why, thank you, Princess." Willie frowned and studied her sausage. "How did I get talked into that?"

I smiled into my teacup and refrained from telling her that she was jealous of the attention Miss Glass gave Duke and Cyclops lately. Ever since the appointment of staff at number sixteen Park Street, Miss Glass had begun to treat them more as friends than servants. This was the first time they would step out in her company, however. The very public display of acceptance between the two rough American men and a genteel English lady was quite a statement. She might appear to be a conformist, but a rebellious streak ran through her. She broke the rules when she wanted to, in her own subtle way.

I looked at Matt and caught him smiling into his teacup too. He winked at me, clearly pleased with how they were all getting along. Despite Willie's scowl, she seemed to want to be included in the party and his aunt made no more complaints. Indeed, she didn't even wrinkle her nose when Willie picked the fallen sausage off the floor and bit off the tip.

Thirty minutes later, Matt and I climbed into the brougham and Bryce drove us to the Whitechapel Road hospital at a bracing pace. An uncomfortable five-minute silence felt as if it stretched twice as long until Matt finally broke it.

"Dr. Hale may not be magical," he said. "This could be a wild goose chase."

"But we have to know for certain," I finished for him. "There is hope, Matt. As you said at breakfast, this could be a breakthrough."

Two weeks ago, during our investigation into the disappearance of a magical mapmaker, we'd discovered the timepiece magician Matt sought, known only as Chronos, was most likely living in London under the name Pierre DuPont. After a brief glimpse of DuPont at the clock factory where he worked, he'd fled. We'd not seen him since and decided to change direction in our search. Instead of looking all over London for DuPont, without any clue where to begin, we hoped to find him by seeking out the thing he wanted most—a magical doctor.

Chronos had spent years looking for a magical doctor whose skills he could combine with his own. He'd found that doctor in an American backwater, and they'd experimented on Matt after he was shot. The experiment had saved Matt's life, but the doctor had regretted his actions afterward and refused to perform such magic again. Chronos, however, had been enthused by the results and was eager to continue experimenting. With Dr. Parsons refusing, and later dying, Chronos needed another magical doctor.

Matt had suggested that if Chronos was indeed in London, under the name DuPont, it was possible he'd finally found another doctor magician here. We'd spent the next two weeks visiting all the hospitals, both in search of a doctor with rare skill and for a man who fit the description of Chronos. We'd not had any luck with either.

The Weekly Gazette article was the first indication that our theory might hold water. It seemed as though London harbored a doctor magician after all.

"We didn't speak to Dr. Hale last time we inquired at the London Hospital," I said. "Perhaps questioning him directly will yield results."

Matt absently patted the breast pocket where he kept his magic watch tucked away. He looked quite healthy today, although it was still early and he'd already yawned twice since leaving the house. Yet no matter how ill or tired he appeared, he was still the most handsome man I'd ever laid eyes on. "We have to be delicate."

"And not mention my own magic, not even to encourage him to open up."

Matt watched me closely. "Is that a promise?"

"It is. I plan to be careful, from now on."

He leaned forward and sandwiched my hand between both of his. The gesture sent a thrill through me, even though our gloves prohibited contact. "The murder of Daniel Gibbons frightened you."

"It served as a timely warning. He was killed because of his magic."

"He was killed by a rival, jealous of his skill, who thought he was doing something his guild wanted. Since you're not a practicing watchmaker, you won't have the same problem."

"Matt, it was you who warned me to keep my magic a secret. Are you now telling me not to hide it?"

He sat back. "I'm simply trying to allay your fears."

"But you still think it best to keep it quiet?"

"I do."

"As do I." I sighed. "For now. I reserve the right to tell someone if I think they ought to know."

"And you must use it if you are in danger." He nodded at my reticule sitting in my lap.

I closed my fingers around the pouch. The familiar shape of my watch inside was a comfort. It had saved my life once, as had a clock I'd tinkered with. Apparently my magic was strong, but I didn't know how to wield it with spells, and I certainly couldn't fix Matt's watch. I hoped Chronos could teach me.

An elderly porter met us in the hospital reception room. "You don't look poorly," he said, eyeing us up and down. "Are you visiting? Visiting hour is four to five in the afternoon."