The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(20)

"You don't miss much, do you?" he said with half a smile and a shake of his head.

"People tend to underestimate women of a certain age. Or just women in general." She winked at me.

I was happy to see that her mind was sharp today. It had been a few days since she'd rambled nonsensically about a knight riding a white horse and confused Matt with his father. Those occurrences seemed to be growing rarer, but they still happened and worried us all, particularly Matt.

"Do I have to be here for your callers?" Matt asked, drumming his fingers on the mantel.

"Yes," she said, without looking up.

"I don't know if I'll be good company."

"You're always good company, Matthew, particularly where the fairer sex are concerned. They find you charming. Isn't that right, India?"

We certainly did. "Quite so," I managed to say.

Matt's fingers stopped their drumming momentarily as he watched me from beneath lowered lashes. I returned to Catherine's letter, my face heating, and Matt's fingers resumed their impatient rhythm.

Miss Glass put her letter down with a click of her tongue. "Will you cease that infernal tapping!"

"Let's go for a walk, Matt," I said quickly. "You seem to need to be out and about."

He nodded.

"No!" his aunt cried. "Stay here, Matthew."

"But it was your suggestion that I go for a walk," he said.

"I meant for you to go alone, to clear your head. You can't do that if you walk with someone else." She shot me an apologetic look. "I do like you, India, dear, but you can chatter too much sometimes."

"She does not, Aunt. India's words are always measured." He put his hand out to me. "Let's go while the sun's out."

Miss Glass looked pained. "You must be careful, India. You and Matthew are spending far too much time together lately. People will talk."

"She's my assistant, and that is the end of it." He stretched out his fingers. "India?"

"Don't be too concerned, Miss Glass," I said, forcing a smile into my voice. "Nobody of consequence will connect Matt and me in that way. I'm much too old and plain, for one thing."

The sudden dampening of her eyes surprised me. "Oh, India, when it comes to men, you are as naive as a girl half your age. I hope you don't take my meddling to mean that there is not a man for you. There is." The unspoken words 'Just not Matthew' hung in the air between us.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "I understand perfectly." I took Matt's hand and allowed him to lead me out of the sitting room as a gentleman would lead a lady onto the dance floor.

"I no longer know what to say to her," he said as we headed down the stairs. "She's not listening to me. And to be so rude to you, too. It's unforgivable."

"She wasn't rude," I said. "At least, that wasn't her intention. I thought she was quite sympathetic."

"You're far too kind to her."

It was she who was kind to me, accepting me as her companion when I was nothing more than a shop girl. But I wanted the discussion to end so didn't say as much to Matt.

We collected gloves and hats from Bristow and headed to Hyde Park. It was busy for a weekday. The late spring sunshine brought the Mayfair ladies out for a stroll, as well as nannies pushing perambulators and governesses trying to keep their active charges in check. There were few men about so Matt stood out, particularly with his height. He received several appraising glances from passersby and either genuinely didn't notice or pretended not to.

The fashionable set usually came out after five and drove slowly along Carriage Drive in an open barouche or on horseback on Rotten Row. I much preferred the quiet of the early afternoon.

"It's been some time since I've come to Hyde Park at this time of year," I said. "I'd forgotten how lovely it is. The air is almost clear here today."

"You need to get out of London more, India. This air is not clear."

I laughed and lifted my face to the sunshine, only to catch him looking at me with a serious expression. I didn't want to be serious. I wanted to pick up my skirts and deviate from the path. I wanted to run through the grass and chase butterflies. These last few weeks had been tense, watching Matt's health deteriorate and with our investigation into poor Daniel Gibbons' death. I wanted to put all that behind us.

"My aunt was right about one thing," he said, quietly. "You're neither old nor plain."

I focused forward again. "Can we end this discussion, please I don't wish to talk about it."

"Very well." But after several steps and a taut silence, he said, "Is that what you really think?"

"Don't, Matt. It's a lovely day. Let's not spoil it."

"Eddie Hardacre has a lot to answer for," he muttered.

"It's hardly his fault that I'm unwed at twenty-seven."

"Perhaps you're just waiting for the right man. As I have been waiting for the right woman."

"I hope the right woman is someone from your aunt's set or I pity you. She'll be very upset if it's not."

"Can we change the subject?"

"So it's very well for you to want to change the subject, is it?"