The Apothecary's Poison (Glass and Steele #3)(32)

Cyclops held up his hands in surrender. "I have a suit. Thank you for including me, Miss Glass. I'm looking forward to my first English dinner party."

"Traitor," Willie muttered.

"Good man." Miss Glass touched her finger to the corner of her eye. "Do you have a patch in a color other than black? It would help if you looked less like a pirate."

"He can't not look frightening," Willie told her. "If the ladies get scared, that's their own silly fault for jumping to wrong conclusions without getting to know him first."

"I quite agree, but that's not why I asked. I'm concerned that Charity will like it a little too much. She thinks pirates are romantic and it wouldn't surprise me if she flirted with Cyclops."

"Don't want her running off with Cyclops and ruining the family reputation, eh?"

"It's not her or the Glass reputation I'm worried about. It's Cyclops. I do like you, Cyclops dear," she said to the big man. "I won't inflict one of my nieces on you if I can avoid it. Don't worry, you won't be seated next to her."

It was another two hours before Matt joined us. He finished the sandwiches while we informed him about the dinner arrangements. He refused to attend at first, until his aunt told him that we were all invited.

"All of them?" he asked, looking dubiously at Willie.

"All of them," Miss Glass said.

"Then I'll allow it, but in future, I need more warning."

Matt and I prepared to head out to the hospital to speak with Dr. Ritter and Dr. Wiley when a detective inspector from Scotland Yard called upon us. He was alone. If it weren't for this fact, I would have been concerned that he'd come to arrest Matt.

"May we speak, Mr. Glass?" Detective Inspector Brockwell asked.

"We can speak here," Matt said, indicating the entrance hall in which we stood.

"Somewhere more private." Brockwell looked past Matt to the main staircase where Duke stood, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed. He looked as if he would bundle the detective out if he so much as even whispered the word arrest.

"The drawing room," Matt said. "Do you mind if my assistant, Miss Steele, joins us?"

"As you wish."

I placed Brockwell in his early-thirties, quite young for such an elevated position within the police force. He sat in an armchair and scratched one of his bushy sideburns. He waited until we were both seated before drawing in a deep breath and beginning.

"I've received a complaint about you, Mr. Glass." He enunciated each word with unhurried precision, so that the consonants had the effect of puncturing the sentence.

"A complaint about what?" Matt asked, not at all ruffled. "And from whom?"

"About your visit to a certain person involved in the Hale case. There's no need to name names."

"Speak with Commissioner Munro," Matt said. "I have his permission to investigate."

Brockwell paused, but whether pauses were simply part of his plodding manner, or it was a sign of his uncertainty, I couldn't be sure. "The commissioner didn't mention this to me."

Matt sat calmly, waiting for the inspector to go on. Neither man seemed unnerved by the taut silence, but my nerves jangled. I closed my fist tight and dug my nails into my palm to distract me.

"I don't know why Munro would allow you to interfere when you are also a suspect," Brockwell eventually said.

"You don't need to know," Matt shot back.

"I beg to differ." Brockwell got up and strolled idly around the room, inspecting objects, pictures, and his reflection in the mirror above the mantel. He scratched his sideburn again.

Matt relaxed into the armchair. How could be remain so calm?

"The thing is," Brockwell finally said, "I've heard all about you, Mr. Glass."

"Heard what?" Matt said, matching Brockwell's idle tone. His body, however, went rigid.

"That your past in America has been checkered, to put it mildly."

Oh no. If Commissioner Munro hadn't said anything, it must have been Sheriff Payne, hoping to ruin Matt's reputation and raise Brockwell's suspicions.

"Munro already knows about my past," Matt said. "He's communicated with lawmen from the States to confirm that I work for them from time to time."

"Yes, but I have it on good authority that Commissioner Munro and your American contacts don't know the half of what you've done. The illegal half, that is."

Matt stood and strolled over to Brockwell. He was considerably taller and broader across the shoulders, but Brockwell didn't back away. He met Matt's gaze with his own direct one. "I'd wager, Detective, that you are the one who doesn't know the half of it. Don't believe everything Sheriff Payne tells you."

Surprise flickered across Brockwell's face before his features flattened again. "I never take anyone at face value, Mr. Glass. I'm aware that a charming exterior can hide the most villainous nature. Even the most well-to-do families have secrets."

That was most certainly a reference to Matt and his well-to-do English relatives. The man was shameless.

"This is outrageous," I said, springing to my feet. "You come here and insult Mr. Glass, who has been nothing but helpful to your police force. Do not forget that he has solved two crimes for your organization."