The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(21)

"You've been known to continue a discussion well after I want it ended." His smile banished the grim set to his mouth and the shadows in his eyes. He seemed genuinely happy at that moment.

I nudged him with my elbow. "What's a safe topic? Not our current investigation, since we can be overheard, and not our relationships with non-existent paramours."

"There's always the weather. You English seem obsessed with it."

"Or you can tell me why you didn't defend Cyclops's reputation yesterday when your cousins referred to him as a pirate."

"I'd like to, but I won't. His past is his story to tell, not mine. I hope you understand."

"I do, Matt, and I respect your silence. Very well, the weather it is."

We didn't talk about the weather much at all. Instead, he asked me questions about enterprise, trade and manufacturing in England. I answered as best as I could, which felt woefully inadequate. He probably knew more than me, considering how much of his day he spent reading the newspaper.

"Why this interest?" I asked as we slowly returned to Park Lane.

"I'm thinking of expanding my investments here."

"Then you need a man of business to advise you properly, not an assistant with little knowledge outside the watchmaking industry."

"I prefer to do it myself rather than employ a man of business. My lawyer will suffice for the contracts, but you can advise me on more than you know."

"Such as?"

"Such as, what do you think of the fudge I had Mrs. Potter make?"

"What has fudge got to do with anything?"

"I might invest in manufacturing it. It's very popular in America, and I doubt English tastes are all that different."

"In that case, I liked it very much. You're very enterprising for a man—" I bit my tongue and kept my gaze directly ahead.

"For a man with my condition?"

"I…I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't mean to bring up your health."

He sighed. "It's all right. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just wish you wouldn't consider my health something that should hold me back. It doesn't. At least, I don't want it to."

I tightened my grip on his arm. His muscles flexed then relaxed. "Then why are you letting it hold you back in marriage negotiations?"

His step slowed. "That's different."

"It shouldn't be."

"India, I can't saddle a wife to me while I'm ill. A husband should be able to protect his loved ones. I don't know how much longer I'll even have my strength."

The pain in his voice clawed at my heart. He hated how his exhaustion made him weak, and I hated that he thought it made him less of a man. "I disagree. A woman who loves you would be happy to have you as her husband even for a few days."

"You're too kind," he muttered. "But on this we will have to differ."

We returned to the house to find that the Havilands and Lady Abbington had arrived in our absence. Matt waited for me as I handed my hat to Bristow.

"After you," he said.

I shook my head. "Not this time. They're your guests. I am…" Superfluous, I wanted to say. "I am a little tired," I said instead. Indeed I was. Tired of seeing women vying for his attention, tired of seeing him charm them without even trying, tired of wishing I were eligible enough to be a contender for his heart.

A small dent appeared between his brows. "Very well."

I read in my rooms until Matt knocked on my door an hour and a half later. His face was the color of ash, yet it was only a few hours since he'd last used his watch.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

I nodded and reached up to cup his cheek but checked myself and fidgeted with my hair instead. "Are the others back yet?"

He shook his head. "If they don't come home soon, I'm going to the hospital."

"How was the famous Lady Abbington?" I asked.

"It's hard to say. She couldn't get many words in. Mrs. Haviland dominated the conversation."

"I heard someone play the piano very well."

"That was Oriel Haviland, urged by her mother. Between the two of them, I hardly got to know Lady Abbington."

"Then brace yourself for another visit from her—without the Havilands, next time. Your aunt won't give up that easily."

He smiled, but it didn't chase the exhaustion from his eyes.

"Go and rest, Matt."

He nodded. "I wanted to see if you were all right first."

I folded my arms to hold myself as still as possible. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm not sure. You seemed…unlike yourself, earlier."

I shrugged, unsure how to answer him. I didn't want him knowing how I truly felt about him. I wasn't even sure what I felt anyway. All I knew was that I liked spending time with him and I worried about his future. Sometimes it worried me sick.

Mrs. Bristow appeared behind Matt, and Matt stood aside to let the housekeeper pass. She held out a tray to me. On it was a covered platter.

"Miss Glass asked me to bring you these," she said, lifting the platter lid.

Two plump cream puffs the size of my fist sat on a plate, a light dusting of powdered sugar on top. "I adore cream puffs," I said. "Were these left over from the afternoon tea?"